


From Darkness, I Rise

by Kurenaino



Series: Morning Star [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones, Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cody Appreciation Squad, Dubious Morality, Evil Plans, Extremely Dubious Consent, I'm Going to Hell, I'm Sorry, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Infidelity, Mind Control, Mind Rape, No Really I'm So Sorry, Seduction, Seduction to the Dark Side, Sith Obi-Wan, The Dark Side of the Force, The Jedi Done Goofed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-08-17 03:15:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 117
Words: 729,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8128249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kurenaino/pseuds/Kurenaino
Summary: The Jedi are thrust into a war that threatens to tear the galaxy apart, and prospects are bleak when the fearsome Sith Negotiator begins to win key victories against the Republic. Sequel to From Grace, I Fall. Also, more Sith!Obi keeps the sadness away. Search your feelings. You know it to be true.





	1. The Negotiator

**Author's Note:**

> AN: Freeze! Welcome, good people. This is a sequel to the story From Grace, I Fall. Like the first one, this deals with my continued obsession with Sith Obi-Wan Kenobi, because let's just face it, he'd be a bloody perfect Sith. This whole thing is going to be dealing with him after he fell, taking place in the years just before and during the Clone Wars. If you haven't read the first one, I'm pretty sure you can still enjoy this story, if you can just flat out accept that Obi can be Sith. If you're one of those, please enjoy!
> 
> However, if you're like me and you can't just accept huge canon divergences without an explanation, then go read From Grace, I Fall, which goes into great and extensive detail on how the perfect Jedi fell to the Dark Side. And if you're one of the ones that's following this mess from the beginning, then welcome back! We're gonna have some fun with this one!

Nar Shaddaa, like Coruscant, was a massive, sprawling city that encompassed the entire world. From the moon's surface to deep below, built into large pits dug into the hollowed-out crust of the world, the city was home to billions and billions of people from hundreds of different species. Day and night, the moon crawled with life as millions of ships and speeders took to the air, the streets crowded with activity from businesses and bars. No matter the time, the world was always alive and buzzing with activity.

Unlike Coruscant, however, Nar Shaddaa was a festering pit of crime and villainy, filthy and infested with pollution and violence, and despite this, it remained an important trading center in Hutt Space. As Nal Hutta's largest moon, Nar Shaddaa was predominantly ruled by the Hutt Cartel, though bounty hunters and crime syndicates ran unchecked through the city. The Hutts allowed it. The presence of several different crime factions on the moon made the retrieval of important information very easy. Crime bosses set up palaces on the surface of the moon, massive, elaborate buildings that stood in stark contrast to the slums they rose out of, protected by the forces of their gangs and mercenaries from bounty hunters that invariably had contracts out on the crime lords.

In one palace, a large, chrome tower that rose out of the lower levels of the Corellian Sector, a human crime lord sat at the head of a large table in a massive, ornate chair that could almost be considered a throne. He leaned against his hand, his elbow planted on the table as he listened to his officers discuss the movements of rival crime syndicates, bounty hunters that were taking out their allies, their own assassins who were killing their rivals, the shipment of illegal arms to the far reaches of the galaxy, how best to avoid the mounting Separatist Crisis. War could be very bad for business, and mounting tensions in the Galactic Senate seemed to indicate that things were heading in that direction.

The crime boss looked up when the large doors to the room were opened, and the officers in the room quickly stood, drawing their weapons and pointing them toward the door. He had expressly forbid anyone to enter, but a hooded man slowly strode in, flanked by members of the crime syndicate's own guards. He looked at the newcomer curiously, frowning as the hooded man put his hands in front of him, fingers splayed, to show he was unarmed.

"What's the meaning of this?" he growled, his officers priming their blasters, and the hooded man _laughed_.

"Now, now, boys, don't get up," the man said, voice rich, smooth and playful, a clipped Coruscanti accent affecting his every word, and all the syndicate's officers sat back down in their seats. The lord glared, hands flat on the table to push himself out of his seat, and he found he was frozen, unable to move. The hooded man laughed, a good-natured, easy ring to it, but there was an undercurrent of something much darker in his rich tones. "I'm just here to talk, boys, no need for violence. Drop your weapons." They all moved to do so, but the man quickly stammered, "Oh, wait, no!" The officers all stopped, frozen in place. "Better yet," he purred, his finger in the air making slow circles, "point your weapons at the person across from you."

The crime lord watched in horror as each and every one of them did as they were commanded, arms locked over the table and blasters primed and ready to shoot the person opposite them. He swallowed hard, his body shaking as he struggled to move, but found he could not. "W-who are you, what do you want?!" he managed to choke out, and the hooded man just smiled, yellow eyes flashing from under the shadows of his hood.

"I'll be with you in a moment, princess. Guards." The soldiers and guards in the room all stood at attention. "Leave, all of you. See that nobody enters this room until I say otherwise. If anyone comes close, kill them." The guards silently left the room, the crime lord looking on in despair as the hooded man slowly gestured when the foot soldiers were gone, and the large doors slammed shut. "What I want..." the man purred, slowly striding past the enthralled officers. "I want my chair. You're in it. Get up."

The crime boss rose, pushing away from the table and standing at the side of the large chair as the hooded man draped himself over the armrests, crossing his legs and sighing as he leaned back. Smiling, he beaconed the crime lord to come closer, and he did, feet dragging as they moved on their own accord.

"Kneel."

He dropped to his knees, and the intruder reached out to lay an elegant, well-kept hand on his head. "W-who are you..."

"Oh, _sweetie_ , you don't need to know that. _You_ can just call me _Master_." The word caught in the crime lord's throat, his strong will trying to resist, his rage and indignation keeping him from following the order for a moment before he shuddered, the word spilling out of his mouth against his will. The hooded man smirked, pet the thick brown hair on the man's head. "Good boy! That wasn't so hard, was it? Don't worry, it's easier the second time. Say my name."

"M-master..."

"And again."

"Master."

"Once more, dear."

" _Master_."

" _Very_ good!" he purred, patting the dazed man's cheek, the crime lord's hazy eyes struggling to come back into focus. "Now, as for why I am here...see, I have heard a _disturbing_ rumor." He fished a databad out from the folds of his robe and quickly brought up the offending article. "I discovered this on one of Nar Shaddaa's public datanets. Here, read it for me." He turned the datapad to the kneeling man.

"...It's a bounty."

" _No_ , really?" The yellow eyes narrowed. "Read it."

"It's offering one million credits to whoever brings in the remains of Count Dooku."

"Mmm." The Master smiled. "That _is_ a lot of money, isn't it?"

"What does this have to do with me!" the man yelped, his voice cracking in his panic. His heart was pounding, and he had no idea why this bounty made him so nervous. There were hundreds of thousands of bounties on Nar Shaddaa.

"You see, the Count happens to be an... _associate_ of mine, and I don't happen to take things like this very well." The crime lord opened his mouth to speak, but the hooded man swiftly tightened the hand in his hair, forcing his head back. " _Hush_ now, daddy's talking. I've done my research, _boy_ , and I have traced this bounty right back to your organization. Or..." He chuckled, soft and light and chills ran down the crime lord's spine. "Or one of the crime syndicates on this kriffing waste of rock. There are so many, I can't keep them straight! I am willing to make an example of _yours_ , though."

"P-please, just let us go." He swallowed hard when the man in his chair said nothing. "I've heard of you, _please_ , just tell me what you want and you'll have it."

"If you've heard of me, than you know that begging _doesn't_ _help_ ," he growled, his yellow eyes flashing before he smiled sweetly. "But I _do_ like it. Let's play a game!" he said quickly, sitting up in the chair and leaning over the armrest, cheek resting on his hand as he looked at the kneeling crime boss. "You tell me what you know about _me_ , and I'll tell you what I know about _you_. Whoever knows most _wins_!"

"P-please, I don't-"

"You _will_ play. Be a good boy."

"Y-yes Master..." The words were torn from him, and he nearly sobbed. He looked up into the yellow eyes and quietly said, "Word has spread about the Separatist's Negotiator. A man that gets whatever he wants with no resistance at all. I can only assume that's you."

"The _Negotiator_..." he purred. "I do like that name. Tell me, what is your underground saying about me?"

"N-nobody that defies you lives."

He nodded, smirking and running the crime lord's brown hair through his fingers. "Oh, the stories I could tell you of the people that did. They didn't die right away, of course. What's the point if they don't suffer." He smiled brightly. "My turn." The long, elegant fingers rested on the shaking man's forehead, and he suddenly tensed, open mouth gasping but unable to move away from the Negotiator. "Shh, just let it happen. Open yourself to me." And he did, he had no choice. The crime lord's body went slack as he felt a tremendous pressure in his mind. He didn't feel pain, but he did feel hazy and unfocused, his entire being craving submission and obedience to the man with the bright yellow eyes.

"You have four sons," he purred, drawing his hand away and watching as the crime lord shook his head, his hazy eyes drifting as he struggled to regain control. "And a daughter and a pretty little wife. You should be pleased they aren't here. It's _very_ wise to keep them on... _Taris!_ No matter, I can always go get them, if that becomes necessary." His yellow eyes observed the long table, the officers still pointing their weapons at each other, arms shaking as their muscles strained from the effort. "I want his sons to stand."

Four of the officers slowly got to their feet, their movements jerky and unsteady as their minds fought for control, their blasters still pointed at the person across from them. The crime boss looked on in horror as his boys rose, his eyes wide and focused, the haze slowly fading.

"You," the Negotiator chirped, pointing at one of the boys. "Put your blaster against your head." The young officer slowly did so, arm shaking and jerking as he did so, and the hooded man smiled. "Now, let's _negotiate_. I want this bounty _gone_. I want any bounty hunter that accepted this contract dead, and I want the person who _posted_ it delivered to _me_. Am I understood?"

"How are we supposed to do _any_ of that! If the Hutts made this happen-"

The Negotiator flicked his hand in the air, and the high-pitched electronic thrum of a blaster firing filled the room for a moment before the officer fell lifeless to the ground. Unmoving, the crime lord looked at the place where his son once stood, and hopelessly gazed at the other three.

"Oops!" the Negotiator said quickly, yellow eyes flashing. "Sorry, my mistake, my hand slipped. You, officer." He pointed to another one of the sons. "Blaster to your head, now." The officer did as he was commanded, and the crime lord choked back a sob. "Let's try that again. We don't want me to make another mistake, _now do we._ "

"...n-no, Master..."

"Then are we understood? I will have what I want. I will be back to make certain it is done, and if it is not, there isn't a place in this galaxy that will be safe for you." He smiled brightly. "Or your family. Or for anyone in this room. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, yes, _please_!"

"You can put your weapons down, gentlemen. On the table there, and put your hands up." There was a collective sigh of relief as they laid the blasters on the table and put their shaking arms up, their faces damp with nervous sweat. "What's fair, hmm? How long should I give you?" He pondered this for a moment, a long finger tapping his bearded chin. Finally he nodded, smiling sweetly at the crime lord. "I'll be back this time tomorrow. Make certain it is done."

The kneeling boss jumped to his feet, rage on his face. "That is _impossible_! We need more time to do this!"

"No, you will do _as I say_." Finally, the golden eyes seemed to blaze, that smirking mouth twisting into a vicious snarl, and the officers in the room began to writhe in pain as their blood boiled within them. "Kneel, boy," he growled, and the terrified man dropped to his knees, eyes wide as he watched the robed man stand and saunter to him, un-clipping something from his belt and holding the metal cylinder in his hand. "Open your mouth."

The man began sobbing as his jaw was pried open by an invisible force, and the Negotiator put the end of the smooth silver and black object in the crime lord's mouth. "Do you know what this is?" he purred, voice smooth and sweet, and the criminal started to nod his head. "Actually, don't answer that. I'll tell you. This is a _lightsaber_. I'm certain you know what that is, I hear people with lightsabers around these parts are held in the highest respect. After all, killing a Jedi isn't easy." He grinned wickedly when the man's body shook with a dry sob. "I would love to tell you that I took this off a Jedi, but this happens to be mine, and the _business end_ of it happens to be in your mouth. Now, if my finger were to _slip_ , and it turned on..."

A strangled scream came from the crime lord's mouth, thin and muffled around the saber, and the Negotiator pressed it deeper. "Understand this. If my bidding is not done, I'm not going to kill you. Not right away. I'm going to make you watch as I slowly destroy your family. One. By. One. _Painfully._ And I can make them do _anything_ I want. Just _imagine_ what I can do to your pretty little wife and your daughter. She's young, but not _that_ young, and you will be there, watching as I make them scream and beg." the Negotiator smiled sweetly. "And as you know, begging _never works_. So when you're out solving my problem, I want you to remember who's responsible for _your_ problems. _Understand?_ "

He nodded, fast, frantic, moving so little it looked like he was just shaking, but it satisfied the hooded man, and he withdrew his saber, clipping it back on his belt, the crime boss gagging and coughing as he was released. "I trust you will pool all your resources to get this done." He watched the man nod ferociously, his yellow eyes darting over the room and casually observing the officers as they shook and convulsed, the pain in their bodies easing as he released his hold on them and slowly walked toward the door as an unseen force opened it before him, shutting with a reverberating slam.

He yawned, standing among the enthralled soldiers for a moment before he selected a few and strode off through the building, allowing the guards to escort him to the roof of the massive tower. He waived his hand and dismissed the guards, pulling his cloak around him as he walked toward the ship he had set down on the large personal landing pad. The ship ramp extended as he drew near, and he quickly made his way to the cockpit, settling into the pilot's seat and opening the com-channel to Darth Sidious. The Sith Lord's hologram appeared, hood drawn and frowning.

"It's done, Master," the man said, pulling back his hood and smoothing his sandy blond hair. "I'll return here tomorrow to make certain the contract is down."

"Good work, Lumis," the Sith said softly. "Your presence is necessary on Raxus. Tyranus is meeting with the Separatists this afternoon, and he specifically requested you."

"What is honestly left to discuss, Master?" he drawled, leaning back in the seat and crossing his long legs. "All the cogs are in motion, there's nothing left to do but wait for you to get the Senate to declare war."

"The Kaminoans need another year. We must be patient, and _you_ must get to Raxus."

Lumis sighed, but bowed his head. "Yes, Master. Am I supposed to _do_ anything, or does Dooku just need me to hold his hand?"

"They fear you."

"They fear him as well."

"Yes, because he has _you._ Tyranus needs to hide his connection to the Dark Side. You have no such restrictions."

"Why bother hiding? The Jedi _know_ he's Sith. The galaxy _knows_ he's strong with the Force." He yawned as he powered the ship on, his long fingers tapping the coordinates for Raxus into the navigation. "Think how well we could run things if Dooku was allowed to cull those fools."

"He must _lead_ , Lumis. He needs to be an inspiration. You are the fear behind his leadership that keeps him in power. Besides, the Jedi cries of Sith Lord are discrediting them in within the Republic. It is further splintering them and I will not have this advantage go to waste."

"Understood, Master," the other Sith said softly, activating the autopilot and smiling softly as he felt the ship shudder and lift into the air, accelerating quickly to the speed necessary to leave the pull of the moon. "Raxus it is. Anything else?"

"Within the month, I will need to you go to Kamino to observe the progress with the clones. Also, your Duchess is beginning to be a problem." the Sith's voice was smooth, dangerous, and Lumis could feel his chest tighten. "You were correct about her being strong-willed. She is highly uncooperative."

"I'll talk to her," he mumbled, taking out his datapad and quickly composing a message to the Mandalorian. "If that is all, Master..."

"It is. See that everything goes smoothly." The com cut, and the man groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose and shutting his yellow eyes.

It had been six years since Obi-Wan Kenobi had fallen. Six years of hard, intensive training under the Sith Lord Darth Sidious, six years of learning how to tame the feral beast that was the Dark Side, and in that time, Kenobi had grown powerful, much stronger than he ever could have imagined. Sidious had taught him how to turn his inclination for mind control into a knack for mental domination, a skill that came easily to him, and he used it liberally. He became a perfect shadow operative for the plans of the Sith, doing the bidding of his Master and the necessary tasks for Dooku in complete secrecy. Kenobi tried to avoid killing when he could, preferring instead to make people kill themselves if it came to that. The power that he held over others was thrilling, intoxicating, and the fear he inspired drew him further into the Dark Side, making him stronger each time he did it.

It also helped that without a body trail, he stayed safely hidden away from the Jedi. All anyone knew was that the Separatists had a powerful ally, a man known by reputation only that somehow managed to convince anyone of _anything_ , coming to be known as the Negotiator as he slowly pulled staunchly Republic planets to the Separatist cause. Chancellor Palpatine had spoken out about this man in the Senate, made it clear that the Republic would not be intimidated by this shadow operative, demanded that Dooku and his Separatist allies revealed his identity, but to no avail. The Separatists simply claimed that the Senate's manhunt for the Negotiator, a peaceful talker and mediator, simply showed the Republic's inclination toward violence and their inability to be reasoned with, and more planets joined the Separatist cause as they agreed.

The Jedi knew the man had to be Sith. All the evidence pointed toward a powerful practitioner of the Dark Side, and many believed that the Negotiator was the Sith Master himself, with Dooku quietly following as his apprentice. Still others believed that it was Dooku who was the Master, and the elusive Negotiator was his new apprentice. Master Yoda, however, believed the Rule of Two may no longer be in play, that the Sith Master had trained Maul, Dooku and now this Negotiator as well. The confusion pleased Sidious, and he quietly urged his young apprentice to continue his work.

Six years ago, the Jedi believed that Obi-Wan Kenobi and four other Jedi were murdered by Dooku, and now, they were no closer to the truth, and with Dooku emerging as the leader of the Separatists, they had no ability to bring him to justice. Obi-Wan wasn't surprised. When he was still a Jedi, when he was hunting the Sith with fierce determination, the Council got in his way at every turn. The realization that Kenobi was right struck the Jedi hard when the Sithkiller had been slain by the Sith, but even then, the Jedi Code prevented them from going far enough to achieve actual results. Their methods were ineffective, not like the Sith, who thrived on brutal efficiency. Kenobi was thriving in the Dark Side under the careful eye of Sidious. Unlike the Jedi, his new Master gave him vision, purpose, _power_ , a partnership that was forged through pain and rage and was made stronger by the deep trust and loyalty that the former Jedi brought to the Master-Apprentice relationship.

Sidious would not betray him. Sidious was _family_ , more than the Jedi had ever been. The Sith Master could feel Kenobi's undying loyalty, and it elevated the young apprentice in the eyes of the Sith Lord, quickly overtaking Tyranus as Sidious' primary apprentice. Obi-Wan was highly intelligent, devastatingly powerful, and dedicated heart and soul to the Sith cause, and Sidious had come to rely on him, knowing that no matter the task he pointed the boy at, Kenobi would succeed, no matter the cost; Obi-Wan Kenobi did not do things in halves, committing fully to everything he did. The newly appointed Darth Lumis was a formidable Sith and a worthy successor, and while Obi-Wan knew that weakness would be met with betrayal, he gave his Master no cause to doubt him.

It wasn't long before the ship snapped out of hyperspace outside of Raxus, a planet renowned for its beauty, and it was here that Dooku, coming out of hiding just a few months prior, had delivered a fiery speech condemning the Republic and establishing the Confederacy of Independent Systems, an alternative to the corrupt Senate that sent the entire galaxy reeling. Kenobi sighed as he watched the wealthy, beautiful city of Raxulon come into view, and he left the cockpit as the ship's autopilot took him to the massive capital's palace, the private landing dock reserved for only the most important members of the Separatist Council. Kenobi wasn't a part of that, naturally, but he parked where he wanted.

The exit port hissed open, and Kenobi strode out as the ramp extended, pulling his hood over his head, his long legs bringing him swiftly into the building. He didn't need to do anything to the guards of the magnificent palace. They saw him and quickly stepped out of the way, hands in the air to show they were unarmed. Kenobi had trained them well. They were certainly more compliant than the highly irritating Geonosian guard on the Confederacy's capital of Geonosis. Obi-Wan avoided those meetings if he could, but he enjoyed the luxury of Raxus.

The Sith Lord threw open the doors to the circular chamber where the Separatist Council met, and Dooku looked up, highly irritated. The others at the table shrank back, watching the newcomer nervously. Nute Gunray was notably distressed, a pathetic whimper escaping his throat as he shook so hard his chair scraped against the floor.

"You're late," the Count drawled, and Kenobi smirked, posture cocky.

"The party can't start until the main event arrives." He grinned wider as the Count's frown deepened. "And here I am. And you brought my _favorite_ ," he purred, slowly licking his lips as his yellow eyes bore into Nute Gunray. "Hello, _sweetie_..."

The Neimoidian turned a very pale shade of green, and Kenobi snickered. Gunray had never forgotten what the Sith could do to him, mostly because Obi-Wan made certain to remind him every single time they met what he could do to his fragile mind.

"If you're done harassing the Council, I would like to continue," the Count quietly growled, and Kenobi bowed deeply.

"Please, be my guest."

And they talked, Obi-Wan coming to lean against Dooku's chair, his yellow eyes shut and listening intently as they discussed strategies, financing, the development of their droid forces, the worlds that were looking to separate themselves from the Republic, and Kenobi found it _terribly_ dull. There was literally no reason for him to be there. Dooku was wasting his time. His eyes roamed over the occupants of the room, narrowing in disgust at the collection before him. These people were no different than the Senators in the Republic. Their primary motivation was trade, commerce, and, by extension, profit. They were greedy and self-interested, each and every one of them, but Kenobi knew that his Master had a plan. Even these pathetic creatures would have a purpose to create strength in the galaxy, even if it was just to serve as someone to be stepped on.

The Sith's yellow eyes met with the feral, reptilian gold eyes of Grievous, the Cyborg commander that came with the InterGalactic Banking Clan's Muun leader, San Hill. Obi-Wan and the cyborg hadn't met officially, but they knew each other by reputation, saw each other at meetings like this, but they never spoke and they completely and throughly _hated_ each other. It didn't help things that Dooku had been instructing the creature in lightsaber combat, which Kenobi found to be not only a waste, but highly insulting. The lightsaber was an elegant weapon in the hands of a skilled Force sensitive, but put it in the artificial hands of a creature so inadequate he felt compelled to improve himself with _cybernetics_...

It was like giving a Nubian Cruiser to a Bantha.

The meeting was dull, and Dooku, in Obi-Wan's opinion, owed him.

Kenobi grinned wickedly, yellow eyes blazing as he reached out with the Force and touched the organic mind in that droid body, and Grievous lurched forward, eyes narrowing and snarling, the sound amplified and made more animalistic by his mask as he tried to resist the obvious intruder. The rest of the Council scooted away from the table, their chairs scraping loudly against the floor. The meeting was, apparently, over.

" _What are you doing_ ," Dooku growled quietly to the Sith Lord at his side.

"Establishing dominance," Kenobi quietly purred, pressing against the cyborg's mind and laughing loudly when he felt the strength of the commander's resolve. "Oh, you are _delicious_. I'm going to enjoy _breaking you_."

"This meeting is done for now," Dooku said swiftly, standing from his seat, hands on the table and eyes blazing as he watched Obi-Wan grinning with sinister delight as the cyborg lay on the table, his metallic hands raking across the wood and leaving large, deep gashes in the smooth surface. The Council didn't waste a second in leaving as quickly as they could, Grievous' howls echoing after them down the long hallway before Dooku gripped the doors with the Force and slammed them shut. " _Kenobi_ ," he snarled, yellow eyes glinting, " _let him go_."

He pushed past Grievous' resistance and the cyborg shuddered, a low, tremulous groan reverberating in the air before he began gasping for breath. Obi-Wan's mind filled with the thoughts and memories and the rage of the cybernetic man, and he purred in satisfaction as he felt the last of Grievous' will slip away into reluctant submission.

It didn't last long as Kenobi's focus broke when Dooku grabbed him by the back of the robes and yanked him backwards, the ridged cyborg collapsing onto the table in a twitching heap. "Grievous, leave." The cyborg slowly pushed himself off the table, breath a low, menacing growl and yellow eyes narrowed at Obi-Wan, his cybernetic hand reaching under his cape and pulling out a lightsaber.

"Don't make him leave, Dooku, I haven't had a good massacre in a while." The cyborg snarled, activating the weapon and furious as the young Sith smirked in amusement.

" _Now, Grievous_." The Count's word was final. With a frustrated howl, the cyborg stalked past the two men, wrathful eyes never leaving the smirking Sith as he unceremoniously kicked the door open and left the room, the metallic clang on his cybernetic clawed feet on the stone floor echoing through the hall. Dooku grabbed the door with the Force and slammed it shut once again. "Are you satisfied?"

"Not in the least," Kenobi drawled, dropping into one of the empty chairs and placing his black boots upon the table. "You should have let me slave him to my will. I'm sick of that impudent scrap of metal."

"I did not bring you here to disrupt proceedings and to antagonize the future General of our army!"

Kenobi groaned. "Tyranus, _sweetheart_ , I disrupt and antagonize. That's what I do, it's in my _job description_. So if that's not why you wanted me here, _why_ did you bring me here."

"It's a good reminder to the others of what they are allied with. These are powerful people, and they are accustomed to getting what they want. It's good for them to remember exactly what is watching over them." Dooku frowned as Kenobi smirked deviously.

"So! What I'm hearing is, 'Thank you, Obi-Wan, for that display of power, my associates will be more cooperative in the future.' That _is_ what you meant to say, right?"

Dooku sighed, dropping wearily in the seat next to the grinning Sith and pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes shutting tightly. Arguing with the man was impossible and entirely pointless. Even without the Force, Kenobi was known for getting exactly what he wanted. The Negotiator indeed. "Every single time I am in your presence, I deeply regret it."

"Believe me," Kenobi drawled, examining his well-manicured fingers, "you're no pleasure to be around either. And we have to do it so _often_." He pulled his hood back and smoothed his hair back. "You're welcome for _that_ as well, your vexation with me is deepening your connection with the Dark Side."

"I don't need _you_ for that."

"I know." Kenobi flashed him a cocky grin. "I'm _extra_. By the way," he drawled quickly when it looked like Dooku would begin to reprimand the younger man. _Again_. "I took care of that contract on you. I suspect that won't be a problem again. I'll be returning tomorrow to make sure I got everything I asked for."

"All these problems would be solved faster if you just _killed them_ ," Dooku growled, glaring at the smug younger man. "I don't understand why our Master allows you to keep this _pathetic_ regard for life."

"What, you think I value their lives?" Kenobi laughed loudly, leaning back in the chair and carrying on until tears gathered at the corner of his yellow eyes, and the Count became more angry with each passing second. "Don't be _absurd_ , they are nothing. Their lives are meaningless. _But_ ," he purred, leaning toward the older man, and the Count's eyes narrowed and he leaned away. "You would kill them to solve a singular problem. _I_ would much rather let them live in fear and root out the problem for good. These fools talk. They will dig deep to destroy everything that is even remotely connected to what is displeasing me because they are _afraid,_ and in the future, these things won't happen."

Dooku regarded him carefully and then slowly nodded. "Very well."

Kenobi yawned loudly, stretching his arms above his head. "I'll be hunting the bounty hunters that accepted the contract shortly, I can't trust a crime syndicate to do a through job of that. I'll be bringing them back to Serenno, we can play with them together!"

"I've no desire to do _anything_ with you beyond what is absolutely necessary."

Kenobi scoffed. "Fine, suit yourself, _grandpa_. I'm still bringing them to Serenno."

" _Grandpa_?!" Dooku's face flushed with rage, his eyes flashing yellow. "Now listen here, _Lumis_ , you are a _guest_ in _my palace_ , and you will do as I say if you will continue to be there! And you would be _lucky_ if you live to be _half_ my age!"

"Oh, _please_ , who wants to be that old? I sure don't. I got rid of that contract for you, and you invited me to your boring meeting. You owe me, and I'm taking out payment in the form of living in your palace."

"You are a _freeloader_ , Kenobi, and when I throw you out, you'll just be a _vagrant_. Hardly befitting a Sith Lord, now is it?"

Obi-Wan shrugged. "Fine, old man, if you need a break, I'll just go stay with Satine." He purred, leaning close to Dooku. " _Her_ palace is bigger than _yours_."

" _One day_ ," Dooku growled, his teeth tightly clenched and looking into those bored, amused golden eyes, "our _Master_ is going to beat the impertinence out of you."

"He already has," Kenobi purred, smirking as he pat the older man's bearded cheek. "I just don't need to show deference toward _you._ "

"You're a cheeky bastard, Kenobi."

"You know it." Obi-Wan stood from his seat, winking at the other Sith as he sauntered toward the door. "I'll see you on Serenno tonight, Dooku."

"Be ready to fight, Kenobi, your form has been lacking."

"We'll see about that." Obi-Wan smirked as he watch the Count, despite himself, smile slightly, and the Sith Lord left the room. There was work to be done.


	2. In Memoriam

His eyes were supposed to be closed in meditation, but Anakin Skywalker was peeking out of the corner of his eye at his Master, squinting to give the appearance that he was, in fact, lost in the Force. It never worked before, but it would this time. After all, Qui-Gon was silent, head bowed, eyes closed, his face so relaxed that the Padawan couldn't help but wonder if the aging Jedi was, in fact, asleep. He had fallen asleep himself several times when he should have been in meditation, and Skywalker was certain he wasn't the only one to do so.

"Anakin," the Master said softly, and the Padawan shot up straight, eyes flying open.

"Y-yes, Master?"

"We are meditating. Is the meaning lost on you again?"

"Uh, n-no, Master, I was, I just..." Qui-Gon was looking at him, his dark blue eyes tired and knowing and Anakin hated when he looked at him like that. "I was just _startled_ , Master. You _startled_ me."

Qui-Gon sighed, closing his eyes once again. "I feel your concern, Anakin, and you shouldn't be. Please, try to focus. You will never be a Jedi if you can't."

Anakin smiled. "I'll try harder, Master." At eighteen years old, Anakin Skywalker was well into his apprenticeship with the Jedi that had saved him from slavery, and as a hot-blooded teen, young Skywalker was finding it very difficult to exhibit the proper traits of a Padawan that would soon be ready to undergo the Trials and become a Jedi Knight. He struggled with patience and sitting still, preferring combat to meditation, lightsaber training to contemplation of the Force, and he knew it was taxing on his Master. He tried to do better, he did, if for nothing else, for the sake of Qui-Gon Jinn.

Skywalker sighed, closing his eyes for a second before giving up entirely and looked his Master over. Qui-Gon's brown hair was beginning to be streaked with gray, and the years had given him wisdom, a weight of presence that could be felt even without use of the Force. In his younger days, Anakin had remembered him to be argumentative and confrontational, following the Force wherever he found it took him, arguing for what he believed no matter who stood against him. Once, long ago, the Master had fought against the Council to be allowed to train Anakin, but these days, Qui-Gon and the Jedi Masters in the tower clashed less often, less violently.

His eyes drifted down to the lightsaber at his Master's belt. Anakin very clearly remembered Qui-Gon's green lightsaber, the first Jedi weapon he had ever seen, the first one that he ever handled. Sometimes, when he closed his eyes, he could see the glowing green blade, remembered how it felt, light and swift and elegant in his ten year old hands, could still recall the faint burning smell of the plasma blade as it ignited. The one at his Master's belt looked similar to the old, familiar weapon, but it wasn't the same one. _That_ blade belonged to Obi-Wan Kenobi, the Sithkiller, the Legendary Jedi Knight that tried to warn the Jedi about what was coming and died for it. Anakin knew that Qui-Gon had trained the man, but he couldn't remember him. He wasn't even certain that he had met him. He had tried asking, but Qui-Gon Jinn refused to speak of his former Padawan.

Six years ago, Obi-Wan Kenobi was killed by the Sith, and Qui-Gon had felt it in the Force, knew before anyone that something awful had happened to his young former Padawan, and he hadn't been the same since. Anakin could see the change in his Master from the moment it had happened. For weeks after, he had barely spoken, his grief so overwhelming that the Force itself sat heavy upon his shoulders. It took the council of Master Yoda to help him through it, and even then, Qui-Gon had come away a different man. Anakin never felt cheated or slighted by his Master, the older man giving his full attention to his student at every turn, and he was always readily available to tend to his Padawan's needs. However, sometimes, when the Padawan should have been sleeping, or when the Master simply wasn't paying attention, Anakin looked at Qui-Gon and saw deep sadness and regret on his proud features, his deep blue eyes distant and heartbroken, and Skywalker knew that there was a wound in his Master that would never be healed.

"Anakin."

The Padawan sighed. "Master."

"You aren't going to meditate, are you."

"No, Master." Qui-Gon's tired blue eyes opened and focused on Anakin's young, handsome face. "I thought," he began carefully, "that we could do some more combat training. We _are_ going to be fighting soon, right? For real, I mean. Against, you know...the Sith." It was a touchy subject, and Anakin hated bringing it up because it pained his Master. But it needed to be said.

"...yes, we are."Qui-Gon groaned as he got to his feet, his Padawan jumping up swiftly and lending him his hand, and the two Jedi left the room to head slowly to the training arena.

"What are we going to learn today, Master?" Anakin asked excitedly, his long legs overtaking the older Jedi in his excitement. He slowed to walk beside the old Master, only to speed up again. "I'm doing well in Ataru, right? We can do more of that, you're still much better than I am!"

"Patience, Anakin. Nothing good ever came from rushing ahead."

"I'm not rushing, I promise!" Anakin rushed ahead and turned, walking backwards in front of Qui-Gon's slow, even gait. "You always said I was talented, I just want to reach my full potential now so I can beat the Sith!"

"Never assume that will be easy, Padawan..."

"I know it won't be easy. That's why I want to intensify my training. If you and I work hard at this together, we can avenge the Sithkiller and-" He stopped suddenly, nearly biting his tongue in his attempt to keep the words from leaving his mouth, but it was too late. Qui-Gon didn't stop walking, brushing past his young apprentice, his blue eyes distant, looking to something that Anakin simply couldn't see. Skywalker's quick steps brought him to his Master's side again, slowing his pace to match Qui-Gon. "Master, I'm sorry. I-"

"Vengeance isn't the way of the Jedi, Anakin. Never forget that." The Padawan looked up at his Master and nodded. He felt awful for bringing it up. He knew this, of course. After Obi-Wan's death, Qui-Gon had made certain that his Padawan knew about the dangers of the Dark Side; it was never spoken between them, but the Padawans talked a lot, and these days, they talked about the Sith, and how Qui-Gon was at the center of it all. The Sithkiller was slain by Count Dooku, a former Jedi Master and the man that had trained Qui-Gon Jinn. At some point, Dooku fell to the Dark Side, and Obi-Wan had learned the truth and died for it. Anakin believed his Master to be the strongest of the Jedi, the wisest, the most kind, but on that day, Skywalker had watched as Qui-Gon nearly broke. He'd never forget.

"I know, Master, but don't you want-"

"No, Anakin, I don't. Vengeance and revenge are the fastest ways to the Dark Side. We must not let anger rule us, or the killing will _never_ stop."

"But don't we need to kill the Sith? Don't they need to die?"

"...yes, they do." Anakin smiled, but quickly stopped when he saw Qui-Gon's eyes narrow at his pleasure. "That does not mean we should _want_ their deaths. There is a big difference between want and necessity. They need to die, but we must never want it. Do you understand?"

"I think so, Master." Anakin looked up at the older Jedi, one of the few people that he had to look up at. "...no, Master, not quite."

"You will, my Padawan." They entered the training hall, and several of the rings were occupied by Knights and Masters and their Padawans practicing intently. The training rings were often occupied these days as Jedi came day and night to hone their lightsaber combat, all of them diving into their studies and mastering their primary styles, or diversifying their skills and learning the ways of the other forms. Lesser practiced styles were quickly becoming more common as the prospect of fighting the Sith in the field drove the Jedi to vary their technique; their ancient enemy was adapting, and the Order would have to as well.

Qui-Gon and Anakin found an empty ring at the far side of the massive hall, and the young Padawan leapt down the shallow steps into it, drawing his saber with a flourish and adjusting the blue blade to its lowest setting. Qui-Gon slowly did the same, his long fingers running affectionately over the black and silver hilt before he thumbed the weapon on, the blue plasma blade extending with a hiss.

"Alright, ready!" Anakin leapt from foot to foot, tossing his lightsaber in the air and deftly catching it. Qui-Gon held the blue blade out in front of him, nodding slightly, and Anakin rushed the Master, blades clashing swiftly again and again as Skywalker danced around Qui-Gon, athletic and aggressive, working hard to break the other Jedi's defense. He didn't see it when Qui-Gon's saber slipped under his guard and touched the Padawan in the chest, and Anakin jumped away with a hiss.

"Ow! Kriffing hell, again? How do you keep doing that, you barely moved!"

"Do you want to beat the Sith, Anakin?" The Padawan nodded, blue eyes narrowed in determination. "When I fought the Sith on Naboo, I used your exact style, and I nearly died for it. Ataru is fast and highly offensive, but it will wear you out quickly and it leaves your guard easy to penetrate. If you can win a fight quickly, Ataru is a good choice, but you will have no quick duel with the Sith. My own fight was a grueling affair, and there were two of us. They are formidable opponents."

"Well, _yeah_ , but you were a lot older than the Sith, and your partner was a Padawan. It's not the same as an even fight."

Anakin saw sorrow flash in his Master's eyes. "Don't forget, Anakin. That Padawan managed to kill the Sith on his own. The Force evened the field in his favor, but he would have lost if he was not in tune with the Force." Qui-Gon took a deep breath and closed his regal eyes. "It will never be a fair fight with the Sith, Anakin. They simply will not fight if they don't believe they can win."

"...is that how the Sithkiller died?" Qui-Gon's eyes slid out of focus as he looked somewhere very far away from the moment, and Anakin retracted his saber and stood beside his Master, laying a hand on the tall man's shoulder. "Master, it's been so long, and I can't stand to see you like this anymore. Every time I look at you, I see your pain, I _feel_ it in our connection through the Force, and it's killing me. Please, let me help you."

"There's nothing-"

"Yes there is. Master Yoda said it's alright to feel sorrow and loss as long as you deal with it and put it behind you, but you _aren't_ dealing with it because you haven't spoken about what happened! Well, he said it sort of like that. Not in that order..."

Qui-Gon closed his eyes and chuckled softly, deactivating his own blue weapon and gingerly putting it back on his belt. "You're right. Of course, you're right." The Master sat on the shallow steps leading down into the sparring ring, and his Padawan settled down right next to him. "I apologize, Anakin. I feel I haven't been myself for some time."

"You don't need to apologize, Master. You've always been there for me." Anakin grinned broadly, and Qui-Gon's ridged posture relaxed. "I should be the one that's sorry. I haven't been the easiest Padawan, I know."

"Neither was I." A small smile tugged at Qui-Gon's lips, but his eyes were pained. "I was always a bit free-spirited. My adherence to the Code was never absolute, but neither was my Master's. We-" He stopped suddenly, his voice catching in his throat, and Anakin could feel the Jedi make the very Force around him tremble with pain. Skywalker carefully took his Master's hand. It was easy to forget that Kenobi wasn't the only loss Qui-Gon suffered that day. The Master took a deep breath, closed his eyes as he reeled his emotions in as best as he was able.

"I don't know how Obi-Wan died," Qui-Gon whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. "I don't know _why_ he died. They never recovered enough to-" His breath hitched as he swallowed a sob, and Anakin's strong hand grabbed his shoulder. Talking about Obi-Wan never got easier. It shouldn't have. All evidence pointed to a brutal, painful death for the five Jedi that had perished on Serenno. Many of the Jedi dispatched to the scene suffered from nightmares long after, and Anakin knew his Master still had restless, sleepless nights. "He was young. Talented, and very strong in the Force, but against a trained Sith Lord, he and four other Jedi didn't stand a chance."

"...everyone talks about him like he was amazing." Anakin smiled sadly, trying to sooth his Master through the Force, but the grief hung over him like mist.

"He was. But not because of what you Padawans gossip about. He is a legend, yes, but not for the right reasons."

"Uh, Master, he killed a _Sith_! When he was a Padawan!"

Qui-Gon smiled, chuckling as he watched Skywalker tap his foot with excitement. "Yes, that's true. He was a bit older than you are now, though. He was more experienced."

"Is it true he didn't need to undergo the Trials?"

"Yes, that's true." Anakin grinned, his face lighting up as his mind ran with his own ambitions about the victories that would lead to his own knighting. "Be humble, Anakin," Qui-Gon gently admonished. "He was a unique case. I want you to undergo the Trials. Seeking glory will not only get you killed, but it is also not the Jedi Way. It will only set you back."

Skywalker sighed, bowing his head in slight disappointment. "I know, Master. I'm sorry."

"I just want what's best for you. I don't believe I could stand losing another..."

Anakin suddenly felt awful as Qui-Gon's face fell, the sadness returning in full force. "You won't lose me, Master," Skywalker said softly, tightly grasping the Jedi's shoulder, a sad smile on his lips. "I promise. I'll...try to be the best Jedi I can." Qui-Gon said nothing. He just took the lightsaber off his belt, holding it delicately and turning it over in his hands. "...so what should he be remembered for, if not for being the Sithkiller?"

He was quiet for a moment, his large hands tightening around the saber. "Obi-Wan...was a model Jedi. He was fiercely dedicated to the Code, so much so that he and I often conflicted over it. He was...wise. Much wiser than I, despite his age. He was fiercely loyal, dedicated, he never did anything halfway. He was steadfast, selfless, modest."

"Kriffing hell," Anakin muttered. "How am I supposed to compete with that?" Qui-Gon smiled.

"Don't. You can't compare yourself to him, you are different people. You and he have different struggles."

"How did you do it? How could you go from the perfect Jedi to _me_?"

Qui-Gon was silent for a moment, biting his lip as he thought and blinking his tired eyes. "Obi-Wan had his challenges as well. Master Yoda sensed my defiance in him, which I experienced first-hand when we argued. He was headstrong, like you, loved flying and mechanics, like you, and he had a sharp, sarcastic tongue that landed him in trouble frequently. We argued often, especially at the end of his apprenticeship. And after he became a knight, he... _we_ drifted apart. The rift between us was so deep, I couldn't..."

Qui-Gon shivered, his shoulders shaking as he shut his eyes against the tears that fell down his cheeks, and Anakin felt _helpless_. His mentor, his friend, this man who had been the closest thing to a father he would ever have was falling to pieces, and the young Padawan had no idea how to help him. People were complicated, even Jedi, and Skywalker couldn't simply fix it like he did with ships and machines and droids. When he was young and afraid back on Tatooine, his mother used to hold him close to her, pet his hair, tell him that time would make things right, and that's exactly what he did with his Master now.

It didn't take Qui-Gon long to control his emotions, his breath slowly becoming more even as Anakin slowly stroked his back. His dark blue eyes slowly scanned the large training hall, watching Jedi deep in their focus as they fought and honed their skills, and thankfully, nobody was looking in their direction.

"I never got to make it up to him," he began again, his voice soft and even as his emotions fell under his control. "The last time we spoke, we had said we would try to repair the damage between us. I don't know if a Jedi is supposed to feel regret, but I do. I regret how I had handled Obi-Wan. I regret that we never had a chance to be close again. With the Force, all things are possible, and the Code says there is no death, only the Force, but I won't see Obi-Wan again, and it makes the wound difficult to heal."

"Were you fighting over how to handle the Sith?"

"No. We were fighting over _you_."

"... _me_?!" Anakin held his breath, looking his Master over very, very carefully. "Why would you be fighting about me?"

"I wanted to train you." Qui-Gon looked away from his apprentice, a sad smile on his lips. "You're potential was so great, it would have been a crime to leave you behind. The Force itself led me to you, and I couldn't ignore that. But Obi-Wan thought you were too old, that you would be unable to let go your old attachments. He believed as the Council did. You were too dangerous to train."

"...was he right?" His Master's dark blue eyes examined Anakin's face, those sharp features and deadly serious, and Qui-Gon felt fear in him.

"No. Obi-Wan was right about many things, but not about you. You are worth training. And you were worth fighting for. I don't regret defending you to the Council. But I do regret how I handled Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon took a deep breath, and Anakin watched the Master's blue eye got that sad, faraway look. "He felt I was abandoning him. I wasn't, of course, but he felt replaced. I know you don't remember him, but he spent a great deal of time actively avoiding you."

"So there was fear in him too?"

Qui-Gon nodded. "There is fear in all of us, Anakin, but a Jedi learns how to turn fear into strength of will. Obi-Wan always had powerful resolve, and I like to believe he was without fear in his final moments."

Anakin smiled. "I'm sure he was, Master. He sounds brave."

"He was." Qui-Gon groaned as he raised to his feet, Anakin helping him up, and the Master handed Skywalker Kenobi's lightsaber. Anakin held it reverently, as if he was afraid it may break in his hands. "Would you like to use it? Just for now, I need it back."

"Yes! Yes, I would!" He ignited the blade, the blue plasma thrumming softly in the air, and he gently swung it, getting the feel of the weapon in his grasp. "Is this the saber he killed the Sith with?"

Qui-Gon nodded. "The hilt is different, he must have modified it at some point, but yes, it's the same blade. It's the same one he was killed with as well, so don't think the lightsaber is special. It isn't. It's only as good as the Jedi that wields it."

Anakin nodded, turning it over in his hands. It was more elegant than his own lightsaber, lighter and less suited to the heavy offensive weight of Skywalker's own weapon. The design spoke of it's maker's preference, and looking at it gave Anakin a better idea of the sort of person Qui-Gon's dead Padawan was. "It's not what I thought," he muttered, swinging the blade hard in the air, and its speed made the Padawan feel off-balance. "You trained him in Ataru, didn't you?"

"I did, yes, but I had heard that he learned from my failure against the Sith. He saw how I fought and the weaknesses of the style changed him. He switched to Soresu when he undertook the mission to hunt the Sith."

"What, really?" Anakin swung the blade over his shoulder, holding it in the Soresu defensive position, and he frowned. The blade felt natural, but Anakin did not. "I thought we want to fight them, not let them just beat their sabers against us."

"You have much to learn, Padawan," Qui-Gon said softly, a faint smile on his lips as he watched Skywalker work his way around the feel of the unfamiliar weapon. "My offensive nearly got me killed."

" _His_ offensive killed a Sith."

"Yes, and his defense was remarkable. Even Mace Windu was impressed with his mastery of the style."

"...but it wasn't enough to save him."

"...no, it wasn't."Anakin retracted the blade and handed the lightsaber back to his Master, his large, calloused hands closing gently around it. "I don't know what happened to Obi-Wan, Anakin, but it's my job to make certain it doesn't happen to you. Maybe Obi-Wan lost his focus. Maybe he thought like you and abandoned his defense when he needed it most. Maybe the Sith was just better, _I don't know_. But you, Padawan, won't go the way he did. I'll make certain of that."

Anakin smiled, fierce determination in his eyes. "What do I need to do?"

"If you like, you and I will go see Master Luminara. She trained Obi-Wan in Soresu, and after his death, I went to learn from her as well."

"Does it work?"

"It works. It's against your nature, Anakin, but studying it will make you grow." The Padawan nodded.

"Whatever you say, Master. Can we go now?"

Qui-Gon chuckled, shaking his head and putting his lightsaber back on his belt. "Yes, we'll go see if she's available." They walked from the training ring, the Padawan easily falling into step next to his Master, and the elder Jedi put his arm around the teen, pulling the blushing Padawan closer to him. "Thank you, Anakin," he whispered. "I do feel better. It was...good to talk about Obi-Wan."

"Do you really feel better?"

"Yes. No. It hurts still, but it was good to talk about _him_ , not just sit and think about how he died. With so much talk about the Sith, it is difficult not to remember what had happened. It's easy to forget who he was in the face of how he died."

The young Skywalker smiled, small and sweet and genuine, and Qui-Gon felt himself swell with pride for his Padawan. Anakin's greatest strength was his compassion, and it didn't fail him now when he needed that most. "Master, we'll talk about him any time you like. I promise. I will _always_ be here for you."

Skywalker was so earnest, so _honest_ , his close bond with the Master reaching out and warming him, that Quo-Gon couldn't help but believe that Anakin Skywalker, no matter what, would keep that promise.


	3. Ventress

Darth Lumis' personal cruiser landed in the courtyard of Dooku's Palace, the sleek, elegant ship setting down so gently it was as if it was weightless. The ramp extended and the hatch opened with a hiss, and Kenobi stormed out of the ship, ferocious rage making the Dark Side swell around him like a storm. A stark contrast to the calm elegance of the ship, Obi-Wan was raging, his usually groomed hair tussled and unkept, his fine black robes singed and frayed and hanging off one shoulder. He stalked away from the ship, movements feline and predatory, his blazing yellow eyes running over his ship as he snarled in fury.

"When I said get off the ship," he shouted toward the cruiser, "I meant _now_ , not after I grow old and _die_!" His golden eyes narrowed dangerously as eight heavily armored people shuffled quickly off the ship, coming to stand before the Sith for a moment before he brought the full weight of the Force down upon them, and they fell to the hard stone ground bodies shaking in pain. He had spent nearly a week hunting the eight that accepted the contract on Dooku, and now, as promised, he had brought them to Serenno. The last of the bunch had given Kenobi more trouble than he was worth, and the Sith was _furious_.

" _Look what you've done_!" he shouted, releasing his grip on the group and grabbing one of them, a bald, rough-looking human, by the neck with the Force, the man struggling as he gasped for breath and clawed at his throat, long red scratches slowly beginning to ooze blood. The Sith Lord threw the man across the ground, the bounty hunter landing at the base of the ramp, and Kenobi rushed to the ship, gold eyes frantic in their fury and laying his hands on the hull.

"You come here, slave, and _look at this_!"

The bounty hunter struggled to his feet, slowly shuffling to the side of the Sith against his will, and he trembled under the blazing gaze. "What is it, Master..."

"What is it? _What is it_! Look, you fool! In your pathetic, desperate, _futile_ attempt at escape, you _scratched my ship!_ " His long-fingered hand gently ran over the scratch in the ship's paint, it's black coating scraped away to reveal the dull gray of the durasteel underneath. "I'm going to have to get her repainted," he sobbed, forehead laying against the elegant hull of the sleek cruiser. "Oh, my baby, I'm _sorry_. Daddy's going to get this fixed..."

The yellow eyes flashed dangerously, and with lightning speed, the Sith drew and activated his saber, slashing it upwards in a vicious arc, and the bounty hunter's arm was severed, and the man trembled before he began screaming, only to fall silent when the Force constricted around his neck again.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Lumis purred slowly, sweetly, his voice dripping with malice. "Really, it was an _accident_. Like what you did with _my ship_. I'm going to let you go, understand? And you're _not going to make a sound_. No screaming, no whimpering, no whining. Just answering if I decide to _bless_ you with my attention." He snarled and the man dropped to the ground, curled up and mouth opened in a silent scream, but as commanded, he made no sound.

Kenobi took a deep breath, turning away from the bounty hunter and ran his long fingers through his golden hair, bringing order to the unruly state of it. He turned back to the silent man, a wide grin on his face, the Dark Side coming to rest around him, its fury tamed. "Oh, my dear, what happened? You seem to have made a _mistake_. You want to fix it."

"I-I want to fix it, Master..." His voice was deep, made higher by the tension of keeping himself from howling with pain.

"Oh, what a relief! Of course you want to fix it. Come now, apologize to me."

The man shook, gasping as he struggled to his knees, crawling awkwardly and off centered to the Sith Lord's feet, taking hold of the hem of his robe in his one, shaking hand and kissing it.

"It's alright, we're going to make this right. Come now, stand." The bounty hunter obediently stood, pale and swaying on his feet. "We can just have you fix my ship, alright? It needs to be refinished and waxed anyway. You can do that, can't you?" Kenobi smiled sweetly, patting the man's pale cheek as the bounty hunter lurched forward, heaving and shaking as he kept himself from vomiting.

"Y-yes, Master..."

"Oh, good! Good, see? All is well now." The golden eyes narrowed, and the smile dropped from his face. "Go pick your arm up." He finally whimpered, shaking as he dragged his feet to his severed arm, and he struggled to pick it up, returning to the Sith with his head bowed. "I'm going to make you paint a new ship for me with that. Understand? Is that _fair_?"

He sobbed, choking back the sound for fear of repercussion, hand tightly grasping his arm. "Y-yes, Master..."

"Oh good. Come along." Kenobi's long legs strode toward the palace, commanding the seven other bounty hunters to follow him as he past them, and they rose, trailing behind the Sith Lord in a single file line, the tortured man shuffling far behind as he struggled to remain conscious.

The Count's Palace had changed since the very first time Obi-Wan had been here. Before, it was quiet, peaceful, devoid of any kind of a guard presence, but now, as Dooku rose to prominence, the grounds were patrolled by the finest battle droids the Separatists produced. His presence brought an assault team of droidekas rolling out of the palace, stopping at the base of the stairs and unfurling as their shields rose, weapons poised. Kenobi rolled his eyes, stopping before the line of mechanical guards.

"Really? Are we going to do this _every time_?" The droidekas didn't move. Kenobi _hated_ droids. They were completely idiotic, and Obi-Wan couldn't control their minds, since they didn't have any. It was a major problem. "Look, Dooku's going to be really angry if I have to destroy you, and I'm really not in the mood to listen to his complaining." Kenobi looked back to his cruiser, and felt rage boil in him again. "Oh, forget it, he's just going to have to deal with it."

The Dark Side roared as Kenobi took hold of the fires of his anger and fanned them until they grew to a raging inferno, the air around him trembling as the line of droideka's collapsed, the shiny, durable metal of their frame bending and twisting and contorting as wires and circuitry snapped and sparked as their shields blinked out of existence. The expensive battle droids destroyed, Kenobi let go of his anger, the tension leaving his body as the Force bent to his will, curling around him and awaiting his next command.

"Sorry about that," the Sith purred, smirking at the terrified bounty hunters as he straightened and smoothed his robes. "Oh, stop, you don't need to be afraid! I'm not angry anymore, I _promise_. Come on now."

The Sith continued, walking up the long steps to the palace entrance, and the bounty hunters followed, carefully stepping over the sparking and smoking heaps of twisted metal. They entered through the large doors of the palace and came to stand in a large entryway, ceilings high and lighting dim, and he heavy doors slammed behind them, the noise deafening as they were sealed inside. More droids stood around them, but these were not hostile, kneeling obediently when they saw the yellow eyed man.

"These are going down below," Kenobi quickly told an IG-100 MagnaGuard droid as it approached him. "They should behave, but if they don't, break their legs." The bounty hunters paled as the droid uttered a deep affirmative, a series of short clicks and whistles summoning others just like it to roughly grab hold of the battered hunters, long electrostaves clutched in their free hand. "You understand that I don't want them _dead_ , yes? Are we clear on this?" Another affirmative, and Kenobi snarled, stalking away as the droids took hold of his prisoners.

He entered the elevator, arms crossed and foot tapping impatiently as the platform rose. Dooku was always, _always_ , in his spacious living room. If nothing else, the old man was predictable. The doors slid open with a hiss, and Kenobi strode out, pace slowing as he looked about the room. He always felt nostalgic coming in here, and the feeling hadn't waned over the years. It was here, so many years ago, that his life as a Jedi ended. Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Knight, had died as he slid his lightsaber into the lungs of Master Sar Labooda, and Darth Lumis had risen in his place. The room had been repaired, of course, the original beauty restored, the long mirrors replaced, the blood soaked and burned carpets discarded and changed out for new ones. Electrical burns and lightsaber damage has all been covered up as if nothing had ever happened there.

But Obi-Wan could see it still. Every time he walked into the room, he was walking through his vivid memory. He could still see where the bodies lay, broken glass scattered on the ground and long, smoking electric burns scarring the walls. He could still feel the pain of the Sith lightning running through his body, could still smell the blood and burning flesh as he helped the Sith Lords maim the bodies of the four dead Jedi. He could feel the Force itself recoil from him as he did it, but he had pressed through it, coming out at the end of it, strong enough to cull the Dark Side, bending the Force to his will. That first time wasn't the last time he had done something awful, but each time became easier. Now, Kenobi didn't have to think twice about doing what needed to be done.

To his surprise, Dooku _wasn't_ in the room, but someone else was. Obi-Wan's yellow eyes narrowed at the figure of a thin woman, lithe and muscular, sitting curled up on the steps leading to the expansive wall of windows looking out over the forest below the cliff. Kenobi reached out with the Force, getting a feel of the girl, but she had felt it, her pale blue eyes falling on him and narrowing dangerously, a bitter snarl on her face, and Obi-Wan couldn't help but laugh loudly, his rich voice echoing off the high ceiling.

"Well, hello there," Kenobi drawled, walking closer as the athletic woman leapt to her feet, her hand reaching behind her and grabbing for something, but snarling in frustration when what she was searching for wasn't there. Obi-Wan smiled warmly, his eyes roving over her with interest, hands splayed in front of him to show her he was unarmed. "Don't be afraid."

"I'm _not_ afraid!" the woman hissed, her voice low and rough, and it just made Kenobi grin wider.

"Yes you are. I can feel it. _You_ can feel it. You can't hide anything from me, girl, so don't even try it."

Those pale eyes narrowed, and Obi-Wan could feel the power of the Force around her, the sum of her hatred and rage coiling around her as it stirred the Dark Side and it came to her, swirling around the woman. "I'm not afraid of _you_!" she shouted, and Kenobi just smiled.

"No, not yet." The woman screamed, howling furiously as she launched herself at the Sith Lord, and Obi-Wan's splayed hands slowly grasped closed, and the woman froze, dropping to the ground and clutching her neck, breath coming in ragged wheezes. Kenobi knelt before her, long fingers touching her chin and forcing her to look up at him, her pale eyes wide with fear.

"See," the Sith purred. "I _told_ you. Now, I have seen your mind, and your resistance is strong. I _could_ break into you, of course. I can take _anything_ I want, but I think the strain of it might break you. You're strong in the Force, and I'd love the practice, but I also hate to destroy things of beauty." The sharp, angular face twitched in rage, and Kenobi smiled, laying a gentle hand on her hairless head. "Oh, we're going to be _good_ friends, I can tell."

" _Lumis_!" Kenobi's grin dropped into an irritated scowl, rolling his eyes as Dooku strode into the room, and his fury could be felt in the air. The woman looked past Obi-Wan to the older man, her pale eyes wide and nervous. " _Eight_ , Lumis, _eight_ droidekas you have destroyed beyond repair."

"Every time I come here, you roll them out." Kenobi stood, smirk on his face as he watched the older Sith grow angrier. "Every time, Tyranus. You don't want them destroyed, then reprogram them to leave me alone."

Dooku tightly shut his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Did you have your access card on you."

"I _told you_ , I'm not carrying that thing around. Get the Techno Union to reprogram them. They _are_ at your command, aren't they?"

"Lumis, they are _expensive_."

"Well they obviously aren't worth the money then." Obi-Wan heard the woman snort behind him, and he looked back at her, smiled wickedly, and turned his yellow eyes back to Dooku. He pointed his thumb over his shoulder at the woman. "What's that."

" _That_ ," Dooku growled, stalking past the Sith and the woman, "is the woman I'm looking to train."

Kenobi laughed. "What, you? Her? _Train_?" He crossed his arms over his chest, watching as the older man sat at his desk, fingers running over a datapad. "Does our Master know about this?"

"Unlike you, I don't waste our Master's time with trivialities."

"Oh, is that what we're calling it? This is a triviality?" He walked up to Dooku's desk and slammed his hand on the dark wood. "This is _actually_ serious, Dooku," Kenobi said softly, and the Count looked up from his datapad, brown eyes narrowed defiantly. "You know how he will see this. It looks like you're taking an _apprentice_. He's going to think you fancy yourself a Master."

"The Dark Side is strong in her, Kenobi," Dooku growled softly, "but there is too much fear in her, she can never be _truly_ Sith. A Sith has no fear, as you know, and our Master will sense that. She is to be an assassin, I can't have you running errands for me when the war starts, your calling will be more important." He stood up from his chair, towering over Kenobi. "Ventress, come here."

Obi-Wan's sharp eyes shot to the woman as she quickly obeyed, coming to kneel before the Count. "My Master..."

"This is Darth Lumis, Lord of the Sith. Be mindful around him, or he will put an end to you."

The woman's pale eyes flashed with rage, glaring at the smirking man for a moment before she bowed her head. "I...understand, Master."

"I like this one, Tyranus," Kenobi purred, bright yellow eyes running over the kneeling woman. "I think she's worth keeping. At the very least, she's nicer to look at than you are." Ventress' head snapped back, her pale eyes narrowing in anger. "Oh, what," Kenobi drawled, "lighten up! What are you, some kind of Jedi?"

"I _was_ ," Ventress snarled, standing at her full height, head thrown back defiantly.

"What? Oh, you _poor thing_." Obi-Wan grabbed her shoulder and swiftly kissed her cheek, grinning deviously as Ventress' face twisted in disgust. "Don't you worry, my dear. We'll fix that." His yellow eyes ran over her face, carefully examining her every feature, holding her chin with crushing force when she tried to wriggle away from him. "I know this girl."

"That's impossible, Lumis."

"No, no, not her _personally_." He frowned, releasing the woman. "This girl is a _Nightsister_." The disbelieving pale blue eyes confirmed his suspicion, and the Sith reeled on Dooku. "Really, I wonder what it's like to be as stupid as you. It must be nice to be so blissfully unaware."

"Are you _afraid_ , Lumis?" the Count growled, his brown eyes flashing yellow. "I wonder what our Master will do to you when he finds out that his _pet_ is afraid of a _woman_."

"A _Nightsister_. I've met their leader, and she's looking for revenge against the Sith!"

"No, she's looking for revenge against _you_. I've had dealings with Talzin as well."

"Oh, _perfect_!" Kenobi drawled, voice dropping with sarcasm and slowly applauding. "Well done, Dooku, way to connect with a woman that wants to destroy the Sith. Now she's personally familiar with _all_ of us." Dooku said nothing, just stood there and watching Kenobi cooly. "... _what dealings?!_ "

"What I do is none of your concern."

"Maybe not, but now you have a _Nightsister_ in your palace. Talzin is going to know, and if you weren't on her hit list before, you will be now."

Dooku smirked. "Why, Kenobi, it almost seems as if you care."

"Of course I care! Our Master sends me to clean up _your_ messes and bail you out of trouble every time you're in it! I'm sick of having my time wasted!"

"Ah."

"And just you watch. When Talzin brings her sister home," he growled, pointing at a viciously glaring Ventress, "our Master will send me to defend you against the assassin that _you_ trained."

Dooku crossed his arms. "And you don't believe I can defend myself?"

"It's unlikely," Obi-Wan scoffed, a cruel smirk on his face. "I see you in the morning, Dooku, and I can hear your joints ache from half way across the palace."

"Are you leaving yet?"

"Not a chance."

Dooku growled, snatching his datapad from the desk and walking past Kenobi to stand beside Ventress. "You are lucky our Master won't let me kill you, _Lumis_."

"There's no such thing as luck, Dooku," he smirked, winking at the older man. "I'm just indispensable."

"You won't be if you continue to antagonize Grievous." Kenobi's eyes rolled, and Dooku frowned. "I mean it. We need a commander for our army, and Grievous is it."

"I _don't_ like droids."

"He's not a droid!"

"He's close enough!"

"You can mentally dominate him, Kenobi, and from what I understand, your _inability_ to do so with droids is why you hate them. You _can_ crush his mind, if you desired to, so you have no cause to hate him."

"...well, he _looks_ like a droid." Dooku groaned, his brown eyes rolling as his long fingers massaged his temples. "Do you really want me to explain myself? I haven't had to explain myself for _years_ , why should I start now?"

"Grievous," Dooku droned, " _also_ hates droids..."

"...he does?" The Count nodded, and Kenobi gasped, hands flying to the side of his face. "By the Force, we could be _brothers_!"

Ventress laughed, but was silenced quickly by a glare from the Count, hanging her head under the intensity of his gaze. "Make peace with Grievous before our Master demands it of you."

Kenobi's finger slowly tapped against his cheek, his devilishly intelligent eyes glowing with mischief. "I'll make you a deal," Obi-Wan purred, coming to stand before the other Sith. "I'll make good with your pet scrap pile. I'll even _apologize_. But in exchange, you get me a Jedi I can practice on." Dooku's eyes narrowed, but Obi-Wan could feel him considering the idea. "Very soon, there are going to be more Jedi around than we can handle, and if I'm going to use my talents against them, I need to practice breaking through Jedi mental defenses."

Dooku was silent, his broad chest slowly rising and falling with each deep, even breath, and he finally nodded. "Very well." The Count's eyes flashed with devious light, and Kenobi held his breath. The Count was rarely devious, but when he was, it gave Kenobi pause; clearly, he was a bad influence on Darth Tyranus. "Grievous will get you your Jedi. Make nice with him so he will do as you wish, the man has hunted Jedi in the past."

"Oh, you are _awful_!" Kenobi shouted, his rich, clipped voice filled with laughter. "Fine, I'll talk to him, but I am _not_ apologizing! That part of the deal is off!"

"I don't care, just as long as you make peace," Dooku drawled, rubbing his temples. "Every time you are here is like a new exercise in pain."

"Are you going to thank me for that now, or later?" The Count groaned loudly, covering his face with his hands, and Kenobi laughed. "By the way, the bounty hunters that were looking for you are down below. Don't kill them too quickly, and leave a few for me. There's been so much work lately I have hardly had a chance to enjoy myself."

"I understand the feeling. Every time I sit down to relax, _you_ show up."

"I know, I can feel it in the Force! Isn't it great, I'm so happy we have this connection!"

Dooku let out a frustrated cry, and Ventress shrank back when the glowing yellow eyes of her Master fell on her. "You need to prove you are worthy of training," he snarled viciously. "Start with _him_. Keep that Sith out of my sight." Ventress' eyes drifted to the smirking, amused, handsome face of the younger Sith, his glowing yellow eyes devious, and she felt fear in the pit of her stomach.

"Y-yes, Master," she nodded slowly.

"Yeah, good luck with that, Nightsister. I hope you like the taste of failure." Kenobi's voice was light, amused, filled with laughter, and Ventress wasn't sure if she should relax or be ready for a fight. She watched the elder Sith leave the room, his rage felt in the air until he vanished through a door on the far end of the room. The Nightsister rose, turning to meet the other Sith and readying herself for combat.

But Lumis didn't move. He just stood, yellow eyes looking over the room, gaze far away, and Ventress wasn't sure what to do. He was silent for a while before he quietly drawled, "Who was your Jedi Master?"

"Ky Narec," she rasped cautiously, carefully, uncertain what the man was planning.

"I've never heard of him."

"And why should you!" she snarled, anger getting the better of her. She had loved her Master, and the Sith sounded like he was disregarding him, brushing him off as insignificant. He _hadn't_ been insignificant to Asajj Ventress, and that's all that mattered.

Her anger quickly vanished, though, when the Sith Lord quietly said, "My Jedi Master was Qui-Gon Jinn."

" _You_ were a Jedi?" she asked softly, slowly creeping closer, holding her breath and ready to be struck, but it never came. He just nodded, those bright golden eyes looking at her with interest.

"I was. For a long time. I grew up in the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, like your Master did."

"Are all Sith fallen Jedi?"

Kenobi smiled softly. "No. But the best ones are. The Dark Side is like fire, and if you don't have the discipline and training to control it, it will consume you." He shrugged. "Jedi training just happens to build the best foundation for Sith Lords."

"Lord Lumis, I-"

" _Lord Lumis_ ," he drawled, "is so _formal_. You, my dear, can call me Obi-Wan Kenobi."

He put his hand out to her, and Ventress looked at it suspiciously. He was _not_ like her Master. Dooku was like ice, cold and formal and removed, but this Sith Lord was like fire, warm and comforting and _dangerous_. She steeled herself and grabbed his hand. "Asajj Ventress."

He smiled, taking his hand from hers after a moment. "Tell me, Asajj, how does a Nightsister come to be in the service of the Sith?"

"That is none of your business," she snarled, and Kenobi laughed, leaning in toward her and his yellow eyes flashing.

"I don't need to ask you questions," he said sweetly, taking a step toward the woman. "As I said before, I can take anything I want. I would rather not destroy you, Ventress." He smiled. "But I will."

She felt his intent through the Force, and she knew immediately that he was serious. She pictured the Sith strength as summoned lightning and lifting people in the air to choke the life out of them and reducing strong, solid objects to rubble, but this Sith was different. This Sith was not so flashy. This Sith believed that _everything_ was his because he had the power to take it. "I don't remember Dathomir much," she growled softly. "I remember being a slave. My Master was kind, though, and when he was killed in a pirate raid, Master Narec saved me." Her face darkened. "Then he was killed. The Jedi left him stranded on the planet, and it's _their fault_ that he died so far from home! Master Dooku found me, and I joined him to kill Jedi."

He nodded. "Well, if that's your business, this is the place for it." He smiled warmly. "See! That wasn't so hard, was it?"

"I _don't_ like talking about my past."

"Neither do I." The golden eyes looked over the room again. "I was born here. Not _birthed_ , but born. My Jedi self died here the day I submitted completely to the Dark Side."

"...why did you do it?"

"It is a _very_ long story. But the short of it is the Jedi betrayed me." They were silent for a long while, Obi-Wan quietly looking out the window and Asajj observing the Sith. Without any word, Kenobi silently walked past Ventress toward the elevator at the far end, but the Nightsister ran in front of him, blocking his way and scowling.

"My Master told me to keep you from him."

"Trust me, I want nothing to do with that stuffy old man. I'm going to tend to my ship."

"I don't believe you. You seemed very content to harass him."

The woman's eyes were cold and hard, but she had a smirk on her face, and Kenobi smiled. "Oh, I like you. Shall I give you some advice?" The woman said nothing. " _Move_."

Ventress felt herself waiver, her pulse quickening as she tensed, keeping herself from moving. It was difficult, the compulsion to do as he said very difficult to resist, but she did it, glaring, her pale eyes met the cruel, amused gold of Lumis.

"Let me tell you how your training will go, Asajj," Kenobi purred, drawing close to the woman, and while she was resisting the command, she couldn't divide her attention enough to move away. He was close, _very_ close, and she could feel the warmth of his body next to hers, the very air around him seeming to blaze, and she felt the air sucked right out of her lungs. "There will be pain. Lots of it, all for the purpose of nurturing your rage. It will consume you, build you up into a fearsome force, and then your Master will _dominate_ you, force you to submit to his will while the Dark Side drives you forward. And when you finally bend to him, the process will begin again."

He smirked as he watched the pale eyes fill with rage and fear, shaking as she fought against his command. "You're afraid, I know. And _so_ full of anger and rage, just as much as Dooku himself, which is why, I suspect, you are here. You're a good match. But it will consume you. I can help you." He smiled, mouth slightly parted as he watched the woman shiver, her resolve weakening, and Kenobi pushed against her mental defenses. "That's it, Asajj, let me in..."

And she did, gasping as she felt the presence of the Sith Lord in her mind, the smoking, smooth tendrils of his touch running through her, making her drop to one knee and shake as the Sith stoked and soothed the raging Dark Side within her. And then he was gone, withdrawing suddenly and she lurched forward, holding herself up with her thin, strong arms, the absence of his presence keenly felt. He kneeled beside her, laying a long fingered hand on her head.

"And _that_ , my dear, is how you break strong walls without breaking their mind." He smiled, watching her face contort with rage and longing. "All you need to do is make them _want it_."

" _I hate you_ ," she snarled viciously, watching the Sith Lord walk away from her toward the elevator, laughing to himself and a smirk on his smug face.

"Good, hold onto that. I'm going to fix my ship. Do you want to join me?"

With nothing else to do, Asajj Ventress shrugged, rising slowly to her feet, and joined the Sith Lord.


	4. Home

**AN: You know how I went around fixing things before? I'm fixing more things. Like this: WHY would they leave Luke with Owen if his only interaction with Anakin is watching him cry and kill a bunch of sand people? WHY should we care about Anakin's mom when we see her for, like, no time, and Anakin has spent more time away from her than with her? Why why why. Let's fix it! Again, from before, I hate midi-chlorians, I hate that Anakin is Space Jesus, and I also hate that he was concieved by the Force. If Midi-chlorians ain't a thing, that's not happening either. How's this: his mom's a slave lady. Guess what you can do with slaves? Anything you want. You do the math.**

**Ok, rant over, let's go.**

_Chapter 4: Home_

"Master?"

"Hmm?"

"Can we go see my mother?"

Qui-Gon slowly opened his eyes, looking at his Padawan in the pilot's seat of the Jedi Cruiser. The two Jedi were getting ready to return from a diplomatic mission to Rodia, and it was tense, made more difficult by the presence of Trade Federation officials. Needless to say, the mission did not go well. All talks fell through, the Rodians insistent that they would support the Separatists if it came to war. The Jedi did all they could, but the Negotiator had gotten to Rodia first, the elusive shadow operative having convinced the Grand Protector that the Republic was not worth being a part of.

The Master was tired, frustrated at the lack of progress, and his Padawan's large, pleading eyes were almost too much to bear. "We saw her a few months ago, Anakin..."

"I know, but Tatooine is _so close_!"

Qui-Gon sighed. "Well, we're out here anyway..." He watched Anakin swiftly call to his droid to punch in the new coordinates, his leg bouncing in anticipation. Once or twice a year, the two Jedi would find time to visit Anakin's mother. It was a hard decision to make for the Master, but after keeping him several years from her, his attachment to his beloved mother hadn't waned at all. If anything, Anakin yearned for his mother more, his attachment to her growing the longer he was away. After Obi-Wan had died, Qui-Gon finally understood it. Though perhaps not keeping in line with the Code, the Jedi Master understood that being torn from someone simply made the heart ache more for them. And Qui-Gon had never been one to follow the Code.

Qui-Gon had spent a lot of time in the past few months with Luminara as she attempted to train Anakin in Soresu, but the Padawan was proving to be absolutely useless in the form. It did give the Masters a chance to talk, though, and Qui-Gon began adopting Luminara's view that attachment was not wrong, so long as, when the time was right, one could let go. His sudden loss of Obi-Wan was made worse by the long distance between them, which is what ultimately led him to the decision to bring young Anakin to his mother in the months following Kenobi's death.

So far, the decision was a good one. Anakin always felt more focused, more at peace after the visits, and it was made even better when his mother was freed from slavery and married a moisture farmer. Her life was meager and hard, but she was happy, and that made the Padawan happy as well. It was also helpful that Shmi Skywalker fully embraced her son's Jedi lifestyle, encouraging him to study carefully to be at his very best, and the boy took the advice to heart.

Maybe other Jedi could not do this, but Anakin was different. He had a family he loved and remembered. Qui-Gon felt wrong keeping them from each other, and he _always_ did what he believed was right.

Anakin landed the ship just outside the small moisture farm, the ship settling in the sand as the ramp extended, and Anakin rushed out, squinting against the bright suns as he saw a figure swiftly running toward them, and the young Jedi took off, rushing to meet the other and colliding with him hard, both tumbling into the sand and laughing. Qui-Gon sighed, shielding his eyes when a sudden gust of wind picked up fine grains of sand, smiling softly as Anakin came running up with a boy roughly Anakin's age, his face flushed and dark brown hair unkept.

"Master, did we have anything we needed to take off the ship?"

Qui-Gon shook his head. "I don't believe so. We won't be here for long." He smiled, nodding his head at the other boy. "Hello, Owen."

Owen flushed and bowed deeply, so far it was comical, and Anakin burst out laughing. "Stop it, Anakin! He's a _Jedi_!"

"So am I, you don't bow to me."

"You're not a Jedi, Ani, you're just a _student_." The Padawan punched his step-brother in the shoulder, and with a cry, both boys took off running toward the homestead, Skywalker getting a fair lead on the Lars boy. The Jedi Master slowly made his way to the homestead, the blazing suns beating down on him. He smiled softly when he saw Shmi Skywalker, now Lars, patiently waiting for him outside the white hut. Her face brightened as he drew near, and she hugged him tightly, her tiny body nearly engulfed in his as he wrapped his arms around her.

"Anakin's nearly as big as you now," she said as they parted. "Though I admit, I'm disappointed that he didn't walk with you."

"You know how teenage boys are."

She laughed sweetly. "Yes, Owen is very similar. He's always rushing about. He has calmed down a bit, though, since he actually brought a girl home."

"Mm, I'm afraid I won't have that advantage with Anakin. Has he seen you yet?"

"Oh yes. Very quickly, Owen bought a junk speeder. They've gone to look at it together." Qui-Gon smiled, watching the woman's face light up with pride as she talked about her sons. She looked much healthier, much younger than she did all those years ago when Qui-Gon had taken Anakin from her. It was nine years later, yes, and her life was still hard, but she was made young again with the love of a happy family. "How long will you be staying?"

"Not long, I suspect," the Master sighed, running his long hair through his fingers and he frowned. There was _sand_ in his hair. "We are _technically_ on a mission."

"Let me rephrase that," she said quickly. "Are you staying for dinner?"

Qui-Gon was about to politely refuse, but the woman's eyes were wide and wet and hopeful, and he just couldn't deny her. "Yes, of course we will stay."

She grabbed his hand tightly, smiling in delight as she led him into the home, the Master having to duck low to get through the door. "I'll put a few more things on, you just go relax. Anakin and Owen will be in the garage."

"Naturally."

Shmi smiled and made off to the kitchen, and Qui-Gon went in search of his Padawan, and for once, the boy was easy to find. Anakin's sleeved were rolled up, and he was up to his elbows in the engine of the speeder in the garage, Owen underneath the vehicle and working on one of thrusters. "Master, _look_!" Anakin shouted, excitement pouring off him in waves. "It's an X-34 landspeeder! I've never actually seen one of these!"

"It's completely trashed," Owen mumbled, grabbing a rag and wiping his face, "but I got it for a good deal, and I _know_ we can fix it."

"How long do you suppose it will take?" Qui-Gon asked softly, and Anakin stood back, examining the open engines.

"I don't know," he said slowly. "If I had it at the Temple, I could do it in a few weeks, maybe..."

"Oh? Are you including all the training and missions in that time frame?" The Master smiled when Anakin balked.

"...a few months then."

"I'm obviously not as good as Ani, but I think I can get it done in a few months." Owen sat up, smiling at his half-brother. "We're working on it together now, so I'm learning a lot. And next time you guys come, we can take it out to Tosche Station." Young Lars smiled slyly. "You can meet my _girlfriend_."

"No way, you've got a girlfriend?!"

"And this is where I leave," Qui-Gon drawled. "I told your mother we would stay for dinner. Be ready to leave after that."

"Aw, Master, can we leave in the morning?" Qui-Gon looked at the Padawan sternly, and Anakin threw his hands into the air. "Alright, alright, sorry! You win!"

"We're going to be late getting back to Coruscant as it is. You'll remember that this was a very unplanned visit."

"Yeah, yeah, I know." He grinned. "Thanks, Master." Qui-Gon left the boys, hearing Anakin quietly demand for his brother to tell him _all_ about the girl he was seeing, and the Master shook his head. It had been a long time since he was young, but Qui-Gon had been a handful in his teenage years, having a nearly single-minded focus on the opposite sex for a few years before he managed to gain mastery over his desires. Even steadfast, dedicated Obi-Wan had enjoyed a brief but passionate affair with the young Duchess Satine. It was unreasonable to expect Anakin to not have those desires.

The Jedi made his way to the kitchen, breathing deeply as the smell of roasting meat wafted through the air, Shmi standing by the counter and swiftly cutting vegetable. "Where's your husband?" he asked quietly, and she turned to him and smiled, scraping the cut veggies into a boiling pot.

"He's gone to see if he can get a new repair droid from the Jawas. He should be back later."

Qui-Gon nodded. "Do you need help?" Shmi pouted, her little fists resting on her hips as she pouted.

"Master Jedi. I told you to _rest_. Go on, you can use my room."

"I'm not an old man..."

"No, but you are older than me, and _I_ am exhausted raising a teenage boy. It must be worse for you, _you_ need to teach my willful son discipline."

"...point taken." The Jedi bowed and left the woman to her cooking, moving slowly down the hall to the room he knew to be Shmi and Cliegg Lars'. He closed the door, breathing deeply as he took a moment to relax, and moved to a small desk in the room, placing the round, holographic projector of his comlink on the surface, and he called the Council, sitting on the edge of the bed as Mace Windu appeared.

"Master Windu."

"Master Jinn. How did the mission go?"

"Poorly. Grand Protector Chekkoo has pledged his support to the Separatists if it comes to war."

"Damn it," Mace snarled, his hand clenching into a fist at his side. "They are skilled weapons and arms manufactures. That is very, very bad in Separatist hands. Was there nothing you could do to convince him?"

Qui-Gon shook his head. "The Negotiator had been there earlier in the week." Cold fury passed over Windu's face. "...there's nothing we can do, Mace. It's like he knows where we're going."

"Of course he knows! Kenobi had said there's a Sith Lord in the Senate, and the Senate has been sending us on these diplomatic missions. If the Negotiator isn't the Sith Master, then he's very, _very_ closely connected to him, so _of course_ he knows where we're going! We're _telling him_!" Mace walked away, and the hologram disappeared, and for a moment, Qui-Gon had thought he cut the connection before the Master walked back into view. "We need to catch him."

"I agree."

"Kenobi was right. We need to force their hand and meet him on our terms. His activity has greatly increased in the past few months, so now is the time to do it, or he's going to tear the entire Republic apart." Windu paced out of view again, coming back a moment later. "Did the Rodians say anything about him?"

"No. It's the same as before, nobody is saying anything. We know he comes alone and unarmed, but that's all we can get from anyone." Windu went back to pacing in and out of view, and Qui-Gon leaned back, hands behind him on the bed and supporting him. "We need to eliminate all other possibilities before we start trying to use the Senate to catch him. Can we launch our own diplomatic mission independent of the Senate to make sure the Negotiator doesn't beat us there too?"

Mace came back in frame, surprise on his stark face. "Qui-Gon, are you suggesting that there's a leak in the Jedi? You don't think one of _us_ is Sith, do you?"

"Dooku is a Sith Lord, and he fell right under our noses. I'm not pretending I know anything. Clearly, we cannot sense the Dark Side when it's festering in a person that knows even the basics of shielding."

"...you're right." Mace crossed his arms, looking at the floor and lost in thought. "We'll send someone somewhere small. We don't want to attract attention to this."

"After we have cleared the Jedi, we can see if we can't get ahead of the Senate. We can leave before they send us, which should give us a jump on the Negotiator."

Mace nodded. "We'll send someone to observe the Senate. The only thing we need to discuss is how best to handle the Negotiator when we find him."

"I will leave that to your wisdom, Mace. I'm having difficulty detaching myself from the Sith."

"I'll discuss it with the Council." Mace sighed. "I know the mission was a failure, Qui-Gon, but we'll come out on top at the end. Don't take this loss too hard."

The Master smiled softly. Mace was _never_ comforting. He must have been getting soft in his age. "I won't. Thank you, Mace. I'll see you tonight."

Mace nodded, the com cutting, and Qui-Gon flopped back on to the bed, closing his eyes, and he very easily drifted off into a light sleep.

* * *

It was cold down in the Temple, dark and drowning in the Dark Side, but Obi-Wan felt comfort there, warm as the darkness crawled through him and filled him with power. It was a powerful nexus of the Dark Side, more powerful than anywhere short of Moraband itself, and Lumis was filled with grim satisfaction that it happened to sit right beneath the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. The Jedi had no idea. They built their Temple on top of the ancient Sith Temple as a show of strength, a symbolic gesture of the Jedi's triumph over the Sith, and that choice, the fatal arrogance of the Jedi, would be what destroyed them.

For thousands of years, the Dark Side nexus had been slowly infecting the Jedi, not turning them, but dulling their senses over time, and now, they could barely sense it at all. It explained everything to Obi-Wan. How Dooku fell without their notice, how _he_ fell right under their noses, how they could stand right beside the Sith Master Darth Sidious and feel _nothing_. The Jedi of old would have rooted them out and destroyed them before they became too strong, but these Jedi lacked the power to even sense them, let alone destroy them.

His glowing yellow eyes saw easily in the darkness, his vision not just coming from his eyes, but from the Force, and he walked through the Temple toward the heart of it where his Master stood, gazing into a basin filled with a thick liquid.

Kenobi came before Sidious and knelt, head bowed and saying nothing, smiling and groaning in satisfaction when his Master placed his hand on his head, running his fingers through the thick, blond hair.

"Have you been to Kamino?" Sidious whispered, placing his fingers under his apprentice's chin and drawing him upwards, indicating he should stand, and the young Sith got to his feet.

"I have, Master. The clones will be ready soon. The first platoon is currently being trained and will be ready to be deployed within the year. A million more are being grown, and they will be able to join the war effort at a steady pace."

"And the droids? Dooku seems satisfied with their progress."

"Well, there are certainly a lot of them..."

Sidious looked up at his apprentice, frowning deeply. "But you are displeased."

"I am. We have the numbers, but the droids they are mass-producing are the same droids that attacked Naboo. I fought against those droids, and they are _nothing_. The Jedi will be fighting them, and they are completely ineffective. A single Jedi Knight can conquer an entire droid battalion."

Sidious was silent for a moment, his yellow eyes narrowed as he focused, his hands pressed together in front of his face. "What do you suggest?"

"Tyranus complains about the cost of the droids, but he is throwing money away on strength of numbers when he should be investing it in the production of better, stronger, smarter droids. We will have fewer troops, yes, but they will be more effective."

"You do not believe in strength in numbers, Lumis?"

Kenobi shook his head. "The Jedi have numbers, Master. The Sith have three, and we will destroy them. Numbers mean nothing. Strength is all that matters."

"I have taught you well, my Apprentice." Sidious said smoothly, his voice even and pleased, and Obi-Wan felt his Master's satisfaction through the Force, the Lord affectionately petting at his mind. "I will let Tyranus know of the change of plans."

"...Master," Kenobi said tentatively, and Sidious' presence within his mind sat still. "I can deliver the order. Tyranus is..." He took a deep breath. "I don't think he doubts our cause, Master, but he has brought a Force sensitive woman to Serenno. She is very strong in the Force, and I've no doubt he's taking her to train."

Sidious was silent, but Obi-Wan could feel his rage in the Force, the strength of it setting his nerves on fire, and he dropped to his knees, breathing fast and deep as he channeled his pain into the Dark Side, using it to greatly dull his senses to the boiling within him. "You believe he is training an apprentice of his own?" the Master hissed, and Kenobi nodded frantically. Sidious took the Sith Lord's head between his hands. "Show me."

His yellow eyes rolled back in his head as he submitted to the Master, tearing down his own defenses and allowing Sidious to plunge into his mind. In his submission, the pain disappeared completely, replaced by the soothing feel of his Master. Long ago, this was painful, agonizing no matter how much he had lowered his own resistance to the Sith, but now, it was a comfort, the satisfaction of pleasing his Master overriding any lingering resistance he may have had. Kenobi gasped deeply when Sidious had found what he needed, moaning softly when the Master returned to his lazy stroking of the apprentice's mind, the hand on his head running through his hair.

"You are right that Tyranus is ambitious," Sidious drawled, "and the woman is strong. You were right to warn me. It is nothing yet, but it may be in the future. You will monitor the situation. If she becomes too powerful, I will command Tyranus to kill her. It will be a good way to test his loyalty."

"Master, the girl is a Nightsister." The Master's face became expressionless, almost apprehensive. "I can't help but feel that we need to tread carefully when it comes to her. I know you have had contact with Talzin in the past, and she already wants revenge on the Sith. Another betrayal, and we may need to deal with the Nightsisters."

"Do you fear them?"

"No, but I feel we must be cautious."

Sidious nodded. "Talzin is powerful, but she is no Sith. If we must, we shall purge Dathomir of her filth."

"As you say, Master."

"Rise, Lumis." Obi-Wan looked up at his Master, the golden eyes glowing and pleased, and he rose to his feet, standing close to the Sith. "Can you break Tyranus' mental defense?"

"...I don't believe so. His resistance is _very_ strong, and he's too smart to let me in. I need a trained Force sensitive to practice on. I was on the way to meet with Grievous to discuss the capture of a Jedi for me to play with. I can break Hutts and Toydarians, but a fully trained Sith or Jedi is a different matter. "

Sidious nodded. "We shall have to correct that. We will intensify your training."

"As you command, Master."

"Have you met with your Duchess yet?"

"...no, Master." He didn't need to look at Sidious to know those blazing eyes were on him, narrowed in anger that he felt through the Force. "I have been doing your bidding, Master. Dealing with Satine takes time I have not had, and I put her after your demands."

"Dealing with her _was_ demanded of you, Lord Lumis."

"So was handling Dooku's contract, which required hunting his hunters. And then I have been sent to countless worlds to bring them to our cause, and when I _did_ go to Mandalore, she was _here_. On Coruscant."

"Making a mess of things," Sidious growled. "You weren't overstating her powers of persuasion. She is worse than Padmé Amidala. All attempts to reason with her have failed, and she is completely impervious to light Force Suggestion."

Kenobi chuckled. "My Satine is intelligent and strong-willed. Gentle persuasion won't work. Tell me what you need her to do."

"I need the woman out of the Senate. The Mandalorians have always been difficult to cull, and she is no different. I will deal with Mandalore when the time comes, but that time is not now. A pacifist Mandalore will make the people easy to control. We need to keep it that way."

Obi-Wan was silent, running through all his options, all the things he could say to Satine, and he came up with nothing that wouldn't draw the powerful woman's ire. "I understand that Mandalore joining the Republic would be best, but that's not going to happen. What if I can find another way to have Mandalore serve your needs?"

"Do you have something in mind, Lumis?"

Kenobi shook his head. "Not yet, Master, I haven't see her in some time. Let me see where she stands on things and I'll find a way to make this work for your benefit."

Sidious slowly nodded. "See what you can do. As long as the woman is out of the Senate, I will be pleased. She is interfering with my war effort. This may be our best option. Her death would cause more problems than it would solve."

"...did Dooku suggest that?"

"He did."

" _Of course_ he did," Kenobi growled, crossing his arms, and the Master smiled.

"When did you see her last?"

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and thought of the Duchess, the last time they were together, how long it had been, and how badly he _ached_. Preparing for war was not an easy business. "Perhaps ten months, Master."

Sidious laid his hand on the apprentice's back. "It's good to see you so dedicated to our cause, Lumis, but I can feel your longing, and it is a distraction. You have lost your focus by denying your passions." He grinned as Kenobi looked away. "I'm going to teach you how to break the mental defense of the Jedi." Sidious smirked wickedly as he felt Obi-Wan lust for the power.

"Teach me, Master, _please_..."

"I will. And after, Lumis, you will go handle the Duchess."

Kenobi looked down at Sidious, his yellow eyes amused and lustful. "My Master, it would be my absolute pleasure to do as you command." And it was. Every fiber in Kenobi's being belonged to the Dark Side, and deep underneath the Jedi Temple, the Sith Lord Darth Lumis would learn how to best destroy the Jedi.


	5. Satine

**AN: It's Wednesday! Know what that means? You get this chapter early because it's fight club night! YAY! So you're getting the chapter now so I can focus on beating faces in. This one MIGHT push the T rating a bit so...uh...be advised? It's not TOO bad...**

 

Obi-Wan paced the ship restlessly, going between the cockpit and his room. Back and forth he went, checking the autopilot obsessively to make certain the coordinates were correct, even though he knew they were, and tearing off his clothes and redressing, making certain that his tunic was neat and his robes were folded just right. He hadn't see his lover in a long time, though they did keep in touch via comlink, it just wasn't the same as being with her. He didn't lie to his Master; he simply _was_ too busy to have gone back to Mandalore. The Sith Lord put everything he had into his work, and with war drawing closer each day, he kept finding new things that required his particular talents.

The result was a series of victories for Sidious as Obi-Wan helped to increase tensions between the Republic and the Separatists, the young Sith throwing everything he had into his work at the exclusion of all else. So now, when his own Master had to divert him toward the Duchess, he was fidgeting and nervous, made keenly aware of how badly he had missed her, how much he had _needed_ her. Longing and desire and lust had been eating away at him, and he hadn't realized how much he ached until he was en route to Sundari, the beautiful capital of Mandalore. He was _Sith_ , a creature of desires and passions, and while he had been gleefully satiating his need to slave lesser beings to his will, he had been neglecting his more carnal, physical passions.

Satine, of course, didn't know exactly what her fallen Jedi Knight had been doing, not exactly. The day before Kenobi had betrayed the Jedi, he had gone to Mandalore and rekindled his relationship with his Duchess, and the woman knew that Obi-Wan was changing, _had_ changed, could feel it in him when even the Jedi Council could not. But Satine didn't care. The desire to have her Knight with her, the way she always wanted, the way she knew she could never have, was too much for her. All she could do was hang on to her lover and never let go.

In the weeks after his fall to the Dark Side, Obi-Wan had run to Mandalore, getting there before word of his death reached the Duchess, and Kenobi was able to reaffirm his love for her, and explain all that had happened between him and the Jedi. He didn't _lie_ to her, but the version of the story was edited for her understanding. He explained that his Master had abandoned him, that the Jedi Council was blind to the problems in the galaxy, how the Jedi had sent him to a fight he could not win. Satine had a difficult time believing that the Jedi would do such a thing, but the pain in her lover was obvious, in more ways than one, but none more so than the bright yellow of his eyes. Kenobi had explained it as an effect of the Force, a harsh, physical reaction to the anger and pain of his betrayal, and that had settled matters for Satine. She wouldn't betray her beautiful Knight.

He wasn't a Jedi anymore, she did know that. He was still training in the ways of the Force, but under a different teacher with a different Code that allowed him to be human instead of the cold monolith the Jedi would have made him into. He naturally did not discuss the events that led to his embracing of the Dark Side; Obi-Wan had doubted that she would take kindly to the murder of a Jedi Master, or any of the other atrocities he had committed. Kenobi didn't tell her that he was Sith; she wouldn't know what it was, and she wouldn't understand anyway. She knew most of it; enough to satisfy her curiosity, enough for her to understand the change her Knight was undergoing, and enough to keep her by his side. The rest didn't matter.

Obi-Wan growled as he dropped into the pilot's seat, switching off the autopilot and thrusting the accelerator forward, the smooth purr of the engines rising in volume as the ship cut through space toward the nearby destination. He was a _Lord of the Sith_. A creature of passion and rage and here he was, reduced to _pacing_ at the thought of a woman. He took a deep breath, trying to sooth his nerves, and he held his hand up, watching the slight tremble run through his fingers, and Kenobi couldn't stop himself from laughing. The whole thing was ridiculous. He felt like a Padawan again, way back when he had first fallen in love with the young Satine. It had been a very long time since he had seen her, and he knew it was more than just physical lust driving him mad. There was an element of possession in Kenobi's desire for the woman; she belonged to him, and Obi-Wan always fought for what was his, but even then, it went beyond that as well. He loved her, and his heart was aching for his Satine.

He was a Lord of the Sith, the Negotiator, an agent of the Force itself that would bring change to the galaxy, purge it of its corruption and weakness, and beside his Master, Darth Lumis would _rule_. But with Satine, he was just a person.

Obi-Wan entered Mandalore's atmosphere with no difficulty, entering the proper security codes to enter the city without any questioning. Satine had given him the highest level of security clearance so he could enter the city and the palace virtually undetected. The Duchess had understood that Kenobi was dead to the galaxy, and it needed to stay that way; she was perfectly willing to play accomplice to his deception if it meant she could be with him. After all, she felt a need to maintain the secrecy of the relationship as well. He directed the ship to the back of Sundari palace, setting his black chrome cruiser down in the royal hanger next to Satine's massive personal spaceliner. Pulling his hood over his head, Obi-Wan left his ship, long, swift strides taking him into the palace.

He quietly issued the command to turn away when he came across guards, simple, non-invasive suggestions that didn't harm the minds of the soldiers. He walked the halls like it was second nature to him, having been here nearly every month for several years until just recently. As he drew closer to Satine's bedchambers, Kenobi started to get a bit apprehensive. It was _possible_ , he supposed, that Satine might be the slightest bit cross with him, but he brushed the idea off. _Of course_ she would be happy to see him. Beyond excited. Thrilled, even. After all, she was a busy woman with a peaceful, prosperous planet to rule. Keeping the peace wasn't an easy job, and the Duchess would be too busy to even spare a thought toward Obi-Wan Kenobi.

He slipped inside her room as silently as he was able, bright yellow eyes scanning the room and finding nobody. Taking a deep breath, he lowered his hood and called out for the Duchess, and he could hear fast, frantic shuffling from one of the many branching off rooms, waiting for only a moment before swift, light bare feet carried Satine Kryze into the room, her pale face flushed and her nightgown slipping off one shoulder, and Obi-Wan found himself unable to look away.

She ran to him, a small whimper escaping her lips, and when she reached her Knight, Obi-Wan found her small but shockingly strong hand striking him across his cheek.

 _Alright, so she is cross_.

"You know," he purred, rubbing the red mark on his face, "for a pacifist, you certainly are violent."

" _How dare you_!" she growled, drawing closer to him, and Obi-Wan couldn't help but grin like an idiot. He had forgotten how beautiful his Duchess was, especially when her entire being boiled over with passion. Even if it was anger. Toward him. "One year, Obi-Wan! Where have you been?!"

"Satine, _sweetheart_ -"

"Don't you sweetheart _me_ , Obi-Wan Kenobi! _Where_."

"I've been _busy_ , dear..."

" _Busy?!_ With what! Your training?"

" _Well_..."

"Go on, then, I an going to _love_ hearing this one."

"...am I _actually_ going to get to talk, or is this going to be a monologue?" She slapped him across the other cheek, harder than the first time, and Kenobi chuckled, hardly flinching from the sharp stinging. "I have been training, yes, but I've also been helping to bring order to the galaxy, you know how chaotic it is these days."

Her arms were crossed, clearly unimpressed. " _One. Year_."

"It hasn't been a year!"

"No? Tell me, how long."

"...ten months?" She went to slap him again, but he caught her thin wrist, smirking triumphantly before her other hand shot out and struck him again. "Hit me again and I think it may classify as abuse. Honestly, Satine, are you sure you're a pacifist?"

"I can't help it, you bring out the _worst_ in me!" She pulled her wrist away from his grasp, her blue eyes narrowed in anger, but Obi-Wan sensed a conflicting mire of frustration and joy and relief and lust within his Duchess.

"Satine, it's not like we haven't _talked_ , I contact you whenever I can..."

"Talking over a _comlink_ a few times a month isn't the same as you _being here_." She reached out and laid her delicate, shaking hand on his chest, soft and light and gently stroking him, her eyes averted, believing that he may be gone if she looked up. "You keep telling me that you'll be here soon, and you never are. What am I supposed to think?"

Kenobi took her hand in his gently kissed her palm, and the woman shivered, whimpering softly. "I'm supposed to be dead, Satine. Between my training, staying hidden and trying to help establish order, it's become...difficult. You're busy too. I was here a few months ago, and you were on Coruscant."

"I am ruling a _system_ , Obi-Wan, and our allies are on the brink of war!"

"I'm not blaming you, I _understand_." He tugged her arm, and she was pulled off-balance, falling against Kenobi's strong chest, and she closed her eyes and trembled when Obi-Wan pulled her close. "I'm trying to help as well, dear." He nipped at her ear and she shivered, moaning softly, and the Sith Lord could feel her pulse race, her anger quickly fading away to be replaced by longing. She had _missed_ him.

"What can one dead man do against an oncoming war?"

"Mmm." He gently kissed down her neck to her bare shoulder, and her soft whimpers slowly became desperate gasps. "Don't underestimate what I can do..."

"...I never do, Obi, I just..." She wriggled out of his arms, her delicate hand cupping his cheek, gently stroking the blond hair of his beard and her blue eyes locking with his gold. "I _missed_ you."

"I missed you too, my Satine..." He grabbed her hand and nuzzled his cheek against it. "I won't be away for so long again, I promise."

Her eyes narrowed, skeptical as she looked at him. "The Separatist Crisis is only going to get worse, Obi-Wan. I'm leaving for Coruscant again at the end of the week, and if you are trying to help, you're going to have your hands full."

"I already have my hands full. I can't possibly do any more than I am." He kissed her forehead, and the Duchess softly smiled, her small hands lightly brushing his sides. "Why are you even going back to Coruscant? You aren't making any headway."

"I must try, Obi-Wan!"

"To what end, Satine?" Her steely blue eyes looked down at the ground, and Kenobi brought his long fingers under her chin, lifting her face up to meet his yellow eyes. "The galaxy will be at war, Satine. It's unavoidable."

"No, we can negotiate, we _can_ find common ground!"

"If the Senate were willing to negotiate, they would have already. The Republic and the Separatists are stubborn fools, Satine, all of them. I admire your desire for peace, but they don't want to find common ground, they don't want to negotiate. They want _war_." The Duchess looked away once again, but he gently forced her gaze to him again. "The Separatists have an army. The Republic will have one soon. Mandalore isn't a part of the Republic, so _what_ are you doing?"

"A galaxy-wide war will effect us all. I won't stand for it! Not everyone in the Republic wants war, don't they have a say in what happens!?"

She was right, of course, Kenobi knew it. The galaxy had to be purged, yes, but Satine had a point. The Republic would be cleansed when Sidious came to power, the Separatist dissenters destroyed if they did not conform, but the rest of them...there was a chance that those who disagreed with war would simply fall into place when the fighting was over. The peaceful would quickly be brought into the fold, drawn to those with power to protect them and maintain the peace. Even his Master would approve of this. The goal wasn't war, that was simply a means to an end. The end was _order_. If that could be achieved with the least amount of resistance...

Kenobi bit his lip, looking at the Duchess with hungry yellow eyes, and the pale woman flushed deeply. "You are _absolutely_ right, Satine." His elegant hand brushed her shoulder, running down her side and resting on her hip, his long fingers possessively gripping her and pulling her against him. "You are validating the corruption and greed in the Senate just by being there. You are giving the war effort credence by showing up and speaking against it. War is coming, but you don't need to be a part of it."

"I _won't_ be!"

"Nor should you be, or anyone else who wants to avoid this foolishness. Excuse yourself from the Senate, send Almec to tell them you won't validate their idiocy with your presence. And give the Republic a _third_ option."

Satine's blue eyes searched Kenobi's face, brow knit together in concentration as she considered the options her lover was giving her. And then the implication struck, a wide, pleased, loving smile spreading across her face. "You think I should unite with those that oppose war."

"I think it would be _very_ you."

She quickly kissed his cheek. "This is why I love you." She rushed to her desk, pulling out of Kenobi's desperate grasp, and sat in the chair, turning on her datapad and swiftly began composing a letter. "Everyone is either Separatist or Republic because there isn't a third option. If we have enough support, maybe we can stop this foolishness."

"Perhaps, but don't count on that. At the very least, you will spare your neutral systems from this pointless war."

"And that is enough. Mandalore isn't part of the Republic. Let them do as they wish, so long as my people aren't dragged into it." She was silent, quickly writing on the datapad, occasionally shaking her head and deleting paragraphs, rewriting them with fervor when she struck on a better idea. She kept writing, deaf to all else, until strong, calloused hands laid on her shoulders, gently kneading the tense muscles, and she suddenly couldn't focus, her datapad in hand but forgotten.

"This is what I'm saying," Kenobi purred in her ear, gently taking the datapad from her hand and putting it on the desk to be forgotten. "You and I work too hard..."

"You may..." She gasped as his lips found her neck, kissing and nipping the pale skin and leaving pale red marks in his wake.

"I'm not the one working right now, my Duchess..." Kenobi pulled her out of her seat, his long fingered hands pressing the straps of her nightgown off her shoulders, the thin garment dropping to the ground. He groaned appreciatively as the longing within her erupted into a nearly overwhelming lust, her careful restraint melting away under the need and desire that had built over their time apart.

"It's been far too long, Obi-Wan..." Her elegant hands swiftly unbuckled his belt, letting it drop to the ground, quickly pushing his robes off his shoulders and whimpering in frustration when she was met with the smooth silk of his undershirt.

"I know, I feel it too..." he purred, running his hands over her bare hips, delighting in her shuddering moans, and lust and possession gripped him, the Dark Side clutching him tightly as he reveled in his ownership of the woman. Satine was _his_ , and she - _all of her_ \- belonged to _him_.

She took his face in her hands and brought him down into a frantic kiss, Kenobi growling deeply as he held the woman against him. When they parted, Satine's pupils were dilated with arousal, the ice blue of her eyes like a thin ring, and she looked into the Sith Lord's blazing yellow eyes and she shivered.

"I'll never get used to those," she mumbled, her thumb running across his high cheekbones. "They make you seem... _dangerous_."

Kenobi smirked. "Are you afraid?"

"No." She smiled coyly, something wicked in her lustful eyes, and a desperate groan was torn out of the Sith. "I like it. There's something wild and feral in you, Obi-Wan and I _want it_."

He tore his shirt off, drawing her against his bare chest and running his long fingers down her spine. "Satine, does my _pacifist_ want a bad boy?"

"She might. She may have been tempted by a former Jedi."

Kenobi chuckled deeply. "Good thing for you, then, that one needs to be _incredibly_ bad to have to leave the Jedi." He nipped at her ear, much harder than before, and Obi-Wan grinned wickedly as she sucked in a sharp breath and gasped, part pain and part aching desire. "I, dear Satine," the Sith whispered, a hiss in her ear that made her shiver, "have fallen far, _far_ further than you can possibly know."

* * *

Dawn was beginning to break, and it found Obi-Wan and Satine tangled in each other, a tired, satisfied haze hanging over them, but neither succumbing to sleep. The Duchess' fingers brushed over the rough, raised skin of a recent burn, one of many that spidered across his body like a tangle of roots. These welts she was used to seeing and knew them to be temporary, unlike the deeper, longer scars that cut across his body, frowning each time she found a new one, and there were _always_ new ones. In his long absence, he had acquired several more, and Satine wasn't looking that hard to find them.

"Do they hurt?" she whispered, gently kissing the raised, red flesh, and he groaned softly.

"Not terribly, no."

"But they do hurt."

"I have an impressive resistance to pain." A tired smile tugged at the edge of Kenobi's lips when the Duchess' concerned blue eyes locked with his. "You don't need to worry, Satine."

"But I do."

"Please don't." He ran her pale blond hair through his fingers, and he sighed happily. It had been a very long time since he had felt contentment. "I have been learning. Sometimes learning requires pain to fully understand. Sometimes I'm just a slow learner."

"And which are these from?" she asked, her long finger tracing the jagged, meandering welts.

"The skills I am developing require focus under duress. These were...a teaching tool."

"...Qui-Gon wouldn't have done this."

"You're right. He wouldn't. He _couldn't_." Kenobi bit at her neck, smirking as she gasped in pleasure. "The Jedi can't teach me what I am learning now. My new Master has opened my eyes to what someone can actually do with the Force. He has shown me my true potential."

"And you don't regret it? Even with all the pain you're enduring?"

"Not for a second." Obi-Wan was not used to compassion anymore, and the overwhelming love and concern rolling off the woman beside him was making him fidget uncomfortably, a warm, burning sensation making his chest ache and the Dark Side within him seemed to recoil away from it. He knew what this was, of course; he may have died long ago on Serenno, but not completely. It was true he had changed, his loyalties, his beliefs, his desires all replaced by a darker version of the man he was, but a piece of his old self remained. It manifested itself subtly, but it was there, driving his every action. His distaste for needless killing, his preference for avoiding conflict through Force manipulation, his steadfast dedication and his fierce loyalty had all carried over from his Jedi self, and with Satine, he almost felt like he was before his entanglement with the Dark Side. _Almost_.

His hand drifted lazily down her body, gently stroking her hip and yellow eyes running over her pale form, dark bruises beginning to form on her white skin, and red marks and bites staining her neck and shoulders. His Satine had always bruised easily, but even for their intense and heedless passion, it was a bit excessive.

Kenobi petted at the dark shadows of his possessive grasp on her hip, affecting his touch with the Force, and she shivered. "Did I hurt you?"

"You ask me that _every_ time, Obi. I'm not made of glass, I won't break."

"I know, but-"

"Have you ever known me to shy away from passion? I don't turn from mine, and I won't run from yours." She kissed him, hard and deep, and Kenobi was momentarily disoriented as her wandering hands stirred his desire awake, the lethargic Dark Side growling in satisfaction as it gripped him. "I told you," the Duchess purred, "I _like_ it..."

"You truly are Mandalorian, aren't you..."

"All of me."

With a growl, he grabbed the Duchess around the waist and pulled the laughing woman underneath him. "If you had embraced the ways of your ancestors, my dear, you would be _unstoppable_. A warrior queen of Mandalore...the Jedi would _cower_."

"I don't need them to cower, I need them to keep the peace." She sighed, running her hands over her lover's shoulders. "Where have they been while the Republic has been falling apart? Aren't they supposed to be keeping the peace?"

"Satine, talking about the Jedi is getting in the way of us, at this moment, _right now_."

"You started it, Obi."

"Mmm, but mine wasn't _political_." She started to protest, but he quickly covered her mouth with his own, breaking away only when he felt her body relax and begin to move against his.

"We aren't going to get anything done today, are we?" she asked, flushed and breathless.

" _Well_ -"

"Anything _productive_ done."

"No, I suspect not."

She frowned. "I really have a lot of work to do, we should be sleeping."

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. "Satine, this time, right here, was _your_ fault."

"... _my fault_?!"

"You aren't the only one with things to do, sweetness."

"Yes, but my things are _important_. I have to set up an alternative to a violent, pointless war, I need to prepare Almec for his trip to Coruscant in my stead, I need to reach out to the systems that haven't declared for the Republic or the Separatists, I need-"

"Alright, you're busy. I got it. I just need to meet with a psychotic cyborg that I _hate_."

Worry made it's way back into Satine, and Kenobi groaned, rolling onto his side to lay beside her. The mood was effectively ruined by the Republic. He was adding this to his list of reasons why the Republic needed to be destroyed. "Why are you doing this? Is it dangerous? The last time you did something dangerous, you were declared dead by the Jedi!"

"Satine, it's _not_ dangerous..."

"You said he was _psychotic_."

"Psychotic, yes, dangerous, no." He kissed her cheek, but she was still frowning. "Honestly, Satine, I'm more dangerous than he is. I've been inside his mind once, I can do it again if need be."

"And you mean that literally, I presume?" Her fingers stroked his temples, her blue eyes fascinated as she looked into his golden ones. He didn't need to answer. The smirk on his face said it all. "You have said you can get people to do what you want."

"Anything I want. _Anything_." Satine gasped, and those blue eyes seemed to light up; power was alluring to those who should have it, and Kenobi saw in his Duchess a brief flash of desire.

"Show me."

He smiled, kissing her cheek. "Sweetheart, I can't show you. I'm supposed to be dead, nobody can know I'm here."

"...do it to me." Obi-Wan sucked in a sharp breath, his lungs burning as he forgot to exhale, and his Duchess rose to her knees, sitting back on her heels above the thick blankets on the bed.

"Please? You talk about your training, I _see_ the pain you endure on your body. Show me what this suffering was for."

"...and you _want_ this?" She nodded, blue eyes bright, and he sat up, breathing deep. "I'm going to do something... _simple_. Fairly non-invasive. I can't do the more advanced things to you."

"Will I know what you're doing?"

" _Oh_ yes, you'll feel it. You'll be aware. As I said, non-invasive. It's more of a...Force compulsion."

She closed her eyes, breathing deep, and then looked him in the eye. "I'm ready."

Obi-Wan reached out to her, his extended finger lightly touching her forehead, muttering his command under his breath to the Dark Side, and he could feel the flow of the Force, warm and tingling as it passed to Satine. He put his hand down, his golden eyes glinting in the low lighting of dawn as Satine sat still for a moment, a smirk on her lips as if she were challenging him. And then she sucked in a sharp breath and held it, Kenobi watching with interest as the blue of her eyes faded to the black of intense arousal.

" _Haar'chak_..."

Kenobi grinned as the woman was reduced to cursing in her native tongue, panting and moaning as she reached out with a shaking hand to grab at the Sith's leg. "Now, my dear, there won't be anymore interruptions. Try to stop it, try to bring yourself back under control."

" _Ni vaabir nayc copad at..."_

"I _know_ you don't want to, dearest, but try for me." A violent shiver ran through Satine's body, her hands coming to tightly grab her arms, eyes shut tight as she tried to regain control of herself. She held her breath, and it seemed for a moment as if she were slowly reasserting herself, but all hope of control was lost when she whimpered desperately as she exhaled, her hips rolling as she ached for contact.

"This is happening, sweetheart, because you are receptive to me. You are already wide open, nothing inside you is resisting because you want this. _Now_ ," he purred, leaning back and sighing as the Duchess crawled into his lap, "I can do this to people who _don't_ want this. People who aren't receptive, people who are actively trying to resist me, and it's _easy_." Kenobi pet at her hair, and she pressed flush against him, her entire pale body stained a light pink and burning against him. "All I need to do is break someone's mental resistance, and I can make them do anything I want. _That_ is what I have been learning. _That_ is what makes me dangerous. And that's what makes me what you Mandalorians call 'dar'jetii.'" He smirked, watching his Satine slowly fall into lust-driven madness, and it made him ache, not just with longing, but with the pleasure of his own powers.

"Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum."

He grabbed her chin and looked into her dilated eyes, searching for the sharp intelligence of his lover, and he found it quickly. Her mind was hazy with lust, but she _was_ lucid. "You love me? After that? After you now understand _first hand_ what I can do?"

"Cui ogir'olar. Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum."

Kenobi held his breath. The thrill of power left him in an instant, replaced by something that even the Dark Side couldn't corrupt.

 _It's irrelevant. I love you_.

He loved her, _all_ of her, but he was too afraid to share all of himself with Satine, knowing that she would disapprove of what he had been doing, but now, in this moment, her love was unconditional. He kissed her deeply, moaning as she wrapped her legs around his strong waist. Kenobi cupped her face in his hands, breathless as he watched uncontrolled passion rage within her, and he knew he looked the same.

"Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome."

_We are one when together, we are one when parted._


	6. The Mirialan Master

_Chapter 6: The Mirialan Master_

"There is unrest on the planet Kabal," Luminara explained, pointing to the little Outer Rim planet on the holographic map of the galaxy, her young Padawan standing silently at her side. "They are suffering food shortages since the Trade Federation abandoned the sector. The nearby trade corridor is heavily taxed by the Senate."

"Are you saying they are abandoning trade to _protest_?" Mace growled, leaning forward in his seat, his eye twitching when Luminara nodded. Mace had been on edge since the Separatist Crisis began; so was the rest of the Council, but Mace was especially aggravated. Every day brought them closer to war, despite the best efforts of the Jedi to keep the peace. Nobody _wanted_ war, but Mace knew neither side would budge, and fighting was on the horizon.

"Can the Republic not send aid?" Qui-Gon asked softly, his Padawan at his side nearly coming out of his skin in his attempt to stay silent. He had promised his Master he would watch his tongue, and Anakin wanted to make a good impression in front of the Council. So far, he felt he was failing.

"They can, but it isn't enough. The Trade Federation is vital to galactic trade. They are refusing to do business in any sector along heavily taxed trade corridors." Luminara crossed her arms. "The Republic needs to make concessions, or the people on Kabal are going to starve. The food shortages have been going on for nearly two months now, the population is close to rioting."

"They're _selfish_ ," Anakin growled quietly, and Qui-Gon drove his elbow into the Padawan's ribs.

"Hush, Anakin."

"The situation is dire, Masters," Luminara said softly. "The Senate will almost certainly send a Jedi delegation to try and resolve the matter peacefully. I believe this may be our chance to catch the Negotiator."

The Masters whispered among themselves, and Anakin pulled at Qui-Gon's sleeve. The taller man inclined his head so Anakin could quietly say, "Do you think this is really it?"

"I don't know, Anakin. The pattern is correct, though the situation has never been this bad before. The Negotiator usually intercepts before the strain on the planet becomes this great."

"Do you think this is part of his plan?"

The Master shrugged. "I really don't know. We know him to be subtle and subversive. It's hardly his style to go after a planet this insecure."

Skywalker scoffed. "He's afraid."

"That may be a part of it, but if he is truly Sith..." Qui-Gon sighed. "A true Sith has nothing to fear from a rioting people. He wouldn't be there because he's trying to remain unseen, and Kabal is in the galactic eye right now. And with how unstable the planet is, it seems very likely that the Separatists will have an easy time securing it as their own."

"So...the Negotiator will be there?"

"No, there's no need for him. They use him for planets like Rodia. You remember what happened there."

Anakin crossed his arms across his chest, whistling as he inhaled and exhaled until his Master sharply nudged him. What happened on Rodia bothered Anakin nearly as much as it bothered his Master. The diplomatic mission should have been an easy one, given the staunch Republic leanings of the Rodian Senator, Onaconda Farr. The Jedi were dispatched to oversee the resolution of a small conflict between the Rodians and the Trade Federation, but when they had arrived, the Grand Protector had joined the Separatists, and the Jedi were left to try and piece together the sudden change of heart. All signs pointed to the Negotiator.

"So you don't think he'll be there, Master?"

"I don't know, Anakin."

"We'll send a group of Jedi to Kabal," Mace said, and the Masters fell silent. "Luminara's right. This could be our chance to catch the Negotiator. If the Senate is going to call us in to manage the crisis there, then we need to leave before they mandate us to go. We've never had a head start on the Negotiator before, and we need to take this opportunity while we have it."

"Master," Anakin said softly, drawing closer to Qui-Gon, "I have a really bad feeling about this."

"I do as well."

"Do you have something to say, Padawan?" Mace drawled, looking bored and annoyed at the Padawan at Qui-Gon's side, and Anakin blushed deeply. He shook his head quickly, but his Master gently nudged him forward, quietly telling him to speak his mind.

Taking a deep breath and trying to calm his racing heart, Anakin said, "Masters, this could be a trap." He had wanted to be bold, confident, but Skywalker's voice sounded thin, wispy, high pitched in his nerves, and the teen shut his mouth, his entire face deep red.

"You seemed to raise a string of willful Padawans, Jinn," Mace said, smirking as the Padawan shifted uncomfortably.

"My students are independent thinkers, Mace. We need to be adaptable if we're going to beat the Sith."

"I don't think it's a trap," Luminara said quietly, and Anakin stepped back beside his Master, head bowed and staring at the floor. "This is a very real and very dangerous situation. Kabal can potentially become a battleground."

"Anakin and I were discussing the possibility that the Negotiator won't show up." Qui-Gon stood up taller, looking around at the Masters, his Padawan nearly hiding himself behind his Master's cloak. "This seems outside his pattern."

"His pattern could change, Master Jinn," Luminara insisted, and Qui-Gon nodded.

"You're right, it could. We must not underestimate the Sith. But we also cannot forget that this is a _Sith Lord_. The Negotiator is smart, Masters. Much smarter than we know. If we arrive with too great a force, and he thinks he cannot win, he will flee."

"But if we go with a force that is too small, then we're just sending Jedi to their death," Luminara countered, and Anakin could see pain in her face like an old wound, healed with time, but the scars were still there. "We have already lost five Jedi to the Sith."

" _Six_ Jedi, Luminara," Qui-Gon growled, voice cold and deep. "Dooku is included in that number."

"...of course, Master."

Qui-Gon looked around the Masters in the chamber, the room somber as each Jedi contemplated the best course of action. There was no good way to handle this. "Do we need to engage the Negotiator?" All eyes looked to Master Jinn. "If we can successfully predict his movements, then we can keep him from turning our allies against the Republic. If we show up to these places before him with a great enough presence, then he will flee. If he's shown us one thing, it's that he isn't stupid."

"Maybe not stupid, but he _is_ Sith. He's going to be arrogant, and he's going to make mistakes." Luminara's bright blue eyes locked with Qui-Gon's, and Anakin backed away uncomfortably. His Master was known to be confrontational, but he was always uneasy when he did. _Especially_ when it was with Luminara. Skywalker looked over to Barriss Offee, Luminara's Padawan, and she, like Anakin, was backing away from her Master. The two Padawan's locked eyes, and she looked at him apologetically, quietly mouthing that she was sorry. Anakin smiled sheepishly and pointed to himself; he was sorry also.

Qui-Gon and Luminara had gotten close after the massacre at Serenno, but the two often disagreed, and when they did, it had the tendency to get heated very quickly. They had found that their constant debating helped them see from other points of view, allowing them to keep a wide perspective with dozens of alternatives to single situations. They had become a shockingly good pair, with Qui-Gon arguing for the will of the Living Force, while Luminara brought the perspective of the Cosmic Force, and together, they were able to find wisdom they could not achieve on their own.

However, Anakin believed that, perhaps, in the Council Chambers before the likes of Master Yoda and Master Windu may not have been the best place for it.

"How long before the Negotiator starts making those mistakes?" Qui-Gon crossed his arms over his chest. "If we try to trap and engage him, he's only going to kill Jedi. We're going to have a learning curve too. We don't know what he can do, and we don't know his abilities because, _so far_ , he's been non-violent. The only way to know this is to send in a team of Jedi that he will be willing to fight, and _that_ mission is suicide."

"No, we send in Jedi he _thinks_ he can beat. We can have reinforcements at the ready if needed, but we can beat him if we _trap_ him. Avoiding him isn't just unwise, it's an impossibility. We can't be everywhere, and as you said, he's intelligent. Allowing a Sith Lord to run around unchecked can cost thousands of lives in the long-run. We need to deal with him _now_ , on our terms, before he can force our hand and we must end up playing his game."

Qui-Gon turned to the Council. "Masters, I advise exercising caution by countering him with superior numbers. He hasn't been violent, and I think it unwise to provoke him. If he wants to throw himself against our might, let him, and he will die."

"Masters, I advise exercising caution by allowing him to make the first move on _us_." Luminara stood beside Qui-Gon, the older Jedi towering above her. "We will lure him into revealing himself and he _will_ make mistakes. Allowing him to run around terrorizing the galaxy is dangerous. He needs to be stopped, and he will stop himself if we allow it to happen."

Both Masters stood in silence at the Council considered the very different views, and Anakin scooted closer to Barriss. "You know," he whispered when he stood next to her, "I agree with your Master."

She smiled softly. "Do you? I agree with yours."

"If we can catch the Sith, we might be able to stop this war from happening." The younger teen nodded.

"Yes, that's true. But sending a small force to deal with a Sith Lord is how Master Qui-Gon lost his previous Padawan."

"O-oh." Skywalker could feel his ears and cheeks turning red with embarrassment. "I hadn't thought of that."

"I bet Master Qui-Gon did."

"Y-yeah, but..." He sighed, watching the Council members as they looked at his Master, or sat with their eyes closed in concentration or meditation. "I guess there's no easy answer to this."

"You're right, there isn't."

"Thank you for your opinions," Mace said quietly, and the Padawans had to lean in to hear him. "The Council will consider every option before we make a decision on this."

Luminara stepped forward, concern on her face. "Masters, the situation on Kabal is dire. We cannot delay."

"I agree," Qui-Gon said quickly, stepping beside the younger Master. "Regardless of what is done, we must act quickly."

"We _know_ ," Mace drawled, his frustration getting the best of him. "We won't be leaving until we have reached a decision, and we will be sending a delegation out to Kabal no later than tomorrow. We do understand there is a time limit on us. You aren't the only ones who learned from Kenobi's death." Luminara nodded, bowing as she turned to leave, but Anakin could see deep pain in his Master as he followed suit, the Padawans falling in line behind their Masters as they left the Jedi Council to their discussions.

"Do you think they'll act, Master?" Anakin asked as soon as the elevator doors had shut. "Do you think they'll listen to your council, or Luminara's? Or do you think they'll do something different? What about Kabal, is it going to the Separatists, or will it stay with the Republic?"

"Anakin..."

"Do you think we'll get sent to Kabal? Why don't they just send Master Yoda or Master Windu? _They_ could kill the Negotiator!"

"Anakin."

"Do you think the Negotiator's even Sith? What if he isn't, what if he's just _really_ good at talking? Oh Force, what if we go to kill the Negotiator and he's _just a guy_?!"

" _Anakin_!" Skywalker jumped, startled and he felt his heart race as adrenaline flooded his body. "Not now, Anakin..."

Skywalker looked at his Master's face, and the pain was still there. The Padawan felt a sharp stab in his chest, ashamed at his insensitivity. "I'm sorry, Master...I didn't mean...I-I just wanted to know..." He huffed, tugging at the sleeves of his cloak, reaching out with the Force to touch his Master, and he felt grief. "I apologize, Master. I try to be mindful of your feelings, I just-"

"You don't need to apologize, Anakin." Qui-Gon looked at the teen, the corner of his mouth turning up in a slight smile, but his blue eyes dark with remembered pain. "You are curious, that's good. Our Code encourages knowledge over ignorance, and you can't gain knowledge without curiosity."

"Master, you don't follow the Code."

"...not well, that is true." He smiled sadly. "But I do try, when the Force does not direct me elsewhere."

Anakin bit his lip and felt his frustration rise. He didn't mean to be difficult. He wanted to help his Master, but he had no idea where to even begin. Luminara picked up on Skywalker's distress very easily, and she laid a small green hand on the teen's shoulder.

"Your Master is struggling to let go, Anakin. This isn't your doing."

"I-I know that..."

Qui-Gon took his Padawan's hand and grasped it tightly. "I'm sorry. I don't want you burdened with this."

"I _want_ to be burdened with it, Master."

The old Master smiled. "You do help. I promise you do." He cleared his throat, letting go of Skywalker's hand as the elevator doors slid open. "Are you up for some sparring?" Qui-Gon smiled as his Padawan nearly jumped in excitement.

" _Yes, yes, yes_!"

"Barriss needs the practice as well. May we join you?"

Qui-Gon nodded, and the four Jedi walked together toward the practice hall. "Now, Anakin, your questions...what was the first?"

"Uh..." Skywalker blushed, lowering his head into the heavy cloth of his cloak.

"Padawan Skywalker wanted to know if the Council will act, Master Jinn," Barriss said softly, and Anakin pulled his hood over his head to hide the furious red blush on his face. Barriss was younger than he was, but she was calm, collected, her thoughts neat and organized, unlike his. Anakin was very much the opposite, his energy frantic and excited, his excitement unconstrained and very much not the image of a dutiful Padawan. He peeked under his hood at his Master, and felt that he was amused, saw the easy smile on his face, and Anakin relaxed. He wasn't perfect, no, but he was good for the aging Qui-Gon.

"The Council will act, yes, and soon," Luminara answered quickly. "They spent a great deal of time delaying and debating when the Sith first arrived. They will not make that mistake again."

"...because of what happened before?"

"Yes, they learned from what happened to Obi-Wan."

Anakin frowned as he watched his Master's dark blue eyes slide out of focus, looking far away again. The shadow of Obi-Wan Kenobi seemed to hang over _everything_. Even Anakin had taken to Ataru as his primary lightsaber form, not because it was his Master's style, but because of the impressive fight between Kenobi and Maul that he had saved on his datapad. He was a legend, even more so now than he had been when he was alive, and it was largely in part because of his work tracking down the Sith, and now that the Sith were so much more active, Kenobi's name was coming up often. After all, he had laid the groundwork for their fight against their ancient enemy.

Skywalker knew that Kenobi had been especially close to two Jedi. One of those was Quinlan Vos, a Jedi Master that Anakin had never actually seen, and the other was Luminara herself, which explained why his own Master had become so close to her. They shared a common grief, but while Luminara had managed to let go and accept Kenobi's death, the wound was still fresh for Qui-Gon, whatever progress healing made torn open by the mere mention of his old student.

"Which position is the Council most likely to follow, Master?" Barriss asked quietly, and Anakin groaned. He knew she had committed all of his questions to memory, and he was getting frustrated that he couldn't remember a single one of his stream-of-consciousness thoughts.

"Were I to guess, they will follow Qui-Gon's advice. My suggestion is a bit too close to what happened on Serenno. They will be reluctant to put more Jedi at risk."

" _Why_!" Anakin said swiftly, much louder than he intended, throwing his hood back and looking at the shocked faces of the two Masters and the other Padawan, and he felt himself flush in embarrassment again. The feeling was becoming much more familiar than he would have liked. "Not...I didn't mean to ask _why_ they won't put Jedi in danger, Masters, I just..." He huffed, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. "I _remembered_ one of my questions, that's all...why don't they just go themselves to Kabal? Why doesn't the Council just send Master Yoda?"

"That would be the effective equivalent of Qui-Gon's army of Jedi."

"The Negotiator isn't stupid, Anakin. He may be arrogant, but we don't know _how_ arrogant. That is the problem with this situation, we don't know our enemy, but he may know _us_."

"Last time, we _knew_ our enemy," Luminara said, her voice dropping as they entered the training hall. "Master Yoda had trained Dooku, Qui-Gon was trained _by_ him, Master Windu was a regular sparring partner of his. Before, the Jedi knew our enemy, but the information was mishandled. Now, they are trying to handle the Sith correctly, but we no longer know our enemy. Knowledge of the Negotiator is essential to defeating him."

"Do we know he is Sith?" Barriss asked softly as they stood outside an empty sparring ring, the two Padawans shrugging off their cloaks and adjusting their sabers.

"I suppose there is a possibility he is not, but it is highly unlikely," Qui-Gon groaned as he lowered himself on to the steps around the ring, Luminara coming to sit right beside him. "He is almost certainly using the Force to control the minds of the leaders of these planets. We cannot prove it, but that is what Master Yoda believes."

The Padawans nodded, satisfied by the answer, and drew their sabers, the blue blades igniting with a deep thrum of energy. Barriss brought her lightsaber behind her shoulder, angling the blade down in the defensive Soresu, and Anakin held his at the hip, blade angled up in Ataru's aggressive posture. Smirking, Skywalker launched himself at the younger Padawan, their blades clashing as they fought, Barriss to keep her defense, and Anakin to break it.

"You need to let go," Luminara whispered, laying her hand over the older Master's. "Obi-Wan wouldn't have wanted for you to suffer like this."

"I know." His dark blue eyes watched the Padawans as they fought, sabers moving quickly, but both were making small mistakes that the other would take advantage of. "I am trying, Luminara. It's not easy."

"I know. I...can't imagine what it's like to lose a Padawan. But I am prepared to let mine go, when the time comes."

Qui-Gon smiled. "You have always been better at that than I. You know I struggle with the Code."

"More than most."

"The Living Force moves in its own way. I cannot dictate where it brings me, I can only move with it. Obi-Wan is dead, I _know_. Out of the Living Force and one with the Cosmic Force, but he is with me still, and I _cannot_ move on. Not now. Not yet."

Barriss hissed as Anakin's saber found its mark, and he grinned at Qui-Gon, waiving frantically. "Master, did you see that?!"

"Yes, Anakin, well struck." Skywalker was grinning like an idiot. "Your left diagonal strike is sluggish, if you are going to use Ataru, you cannot have this weakness."

"I slept weird again, Master, my arm keeps hanging off the bed..."

"I am not going to put in a requisition for a larger bed for you, Anakin, for the last time. And you better find a way to compensate for that, Barriss knows about that weakness now." Anakin's blue eyes slowly looked to the other Padawan, a knowing smirk on her lips, and Skywalker paled.

"Master, you can be a real jerk..."

"Best of luck, Anakin." The Padawans were at it again, blades moving faster than before.

"She's intimidated by Anakin," Luminara whispered to Qui-Gon.

"He is a few years older, but he is intimidated by her as well. Having her around has made him study harder, he doesn't want to be beaten by a girl that is younger than him."

"She _has_ been doing this longer." She smiled gently as she watched the students fight, carefully looking at their footwork. "You know, your Obi-Wan was the best I've ever seen in Soresu. I taught him, but he surpassed me quickly."

"You have mentioned that, yes." Luminara could almost see the wound open again.

"Qui-Gon." The dark blue eyes fell on the Mirialan Master, her face serious. "Your Padawan was right. You need to talk about him, or you won't be able to make peace with what happened."

"I have been, Luminara."

"Not enough."

Qui-Gon sighed, leaning back against the steps and lazily watching the Padawans. Anakin had struck Barriss again, but the girl was ready to go a moment later. "I want to give my full attention to Anakin. How can I properly teach my student when I am openly grieving for the one I lost?"

"I admit that's difficult. I didn't take on Barriss until I knew I had let go of my friend." She scooted closer to the Master, her thin shoulder pressed up against his broad chest, and she could feel his deep, even breathing. "Quinlan and I talked a lot about him, though he always handled it in a less... _conventional_ way. You know how he is."

Qui-Gon chuckled, pulling Luminara closer to him. "I imagine he spent a good deal of that time inside a bottle."

"He did, yes, but he talks about Obi-Wan constantly. I believe his view on things may suit you better than mine. I let him go and accepted his death. Quinlan keeps him alive by talking about him, and of you know anything about Master Vos, you know he has difficulty keeping quiet."

Anakin suddenly hissed, dropping his saber and clutching his wrist, a pleased smile on Barriss' face. "You cheated," Anakin panted, picking his saber up off the ground. "You can't just _stand_ there, it isn't sparring if you don't engage!"

"I _was_ engaging," she said softly, smiling faintly.

"Anakin," Qui-Gon admonished softly, and his Padawan snapping to attention as his Master spoke. "The flaw of Ataru is the lack of defense. It will tire you quickly. You lost because she chose to conserve her energy and wait for an opening."

"Master, the Sith aren't cautious, they're going to fight aggressively! I saw the recording of your fight with the Sith Lord, I saw how he fought!"

"And you know the way of all Sith?"

"W-well...n-no, but-"

"Dooku is a Master of Makashi, which is much more graceful and refined than what you believe the Sith to be capable of. You need to work on your defense."

"I'm just no good at it, Master! Even Master Luminara thinks I'm hopeless!"

Luminara laughed loudly at that and stood, taking Qui-Gon's lightsaber from his belt as she did so, and the older Master started to reach out to grab for it, but stopped, biting his lip and face concerned. "You are not hopeless, Padawan, it is just not your inclination, and your saber is unbalanced for a solid defense. It's making learning the Soresu basics difficult for you." She powered on the weapon in her hand, the blue blade hissing to life, and she adjusted the setting. " _This_ weapon was built to be optimized for defense and energy conservation. You will feel off-balance at first, but you should improve as you get used to the feel."

Anakin took the weapon from Luminara's hand, rotating the blade and trying to adapt to the lighter weight. "I won't fight with this weapon, though."

"No, you won't, but it will be easier for you to adjust to your own blade when you have a feel for the basics. Barriss, will you walk him through the basic exercises?"

The young Padawan bowed, and the two students began to work, Anakin listening intently to the girl as she helped him work through the foundations of a style that did not fit well with the restless young man. "That lightsaber," Luminara drawled as she sat next to Qui-Gon, nestled closely to his tall body, "caused me more welts and bruises than I can count. Obi-Wan was relentless in his dedication to mastering combat."

"He was relentless in his dedication to everything. I never knew him to quit." The Mirialan looked up at her friend's face and saw him smiling faintly. It was a good start.

"He laid the groundwork we need to defeat the Sith. You do know that, right?" Qui-Gon nodded, but said nothing. "The Council has changed the way they are dealing with things. Even you must see that."

"I do, yes. I'm worried about it being enough." The Master sighed, watching as Anakin slowly became more relaxed, handling the saber with a more refined touch as he walked through the movements of the basic Soresu forms. "Obi-Wan and I grew apart after he was knighted, but from what you and Quinlan have said, he was convinced the Sith were no longer recognizable from the way they were. If that's truly the case, than all the knowledge in the Archives won't be enough. We must begin again."

"Which makes the work with the Negotiator so vital. The Jedi cannot afford to miss this opportunity."

Qui-Gon was silent for a long while as he watched the Padawans, Barriss laying her hand on Anakin's elbow and raising it into the correct position, the teenage boy's face drawn in concentration. "I agree," the Master said softly. "I know it didn't seem like it today with the Council, but I am reluctant to engage the Sith. Learning about the Negotiator will almost certainly cost more Jedi lives."

"...you are probably correct about that."

"How many Jedi lives are worth the life of the Negotiator? I'm inclined to say none. Dooku is certainly not worth the life of my Obi-Wan, but that exchange was made anyway, along with four others, and we gained nothing from it but _more_ Sith. How many more lives will Dooku take before we stop him? How many will the Negotiator take?"

"Many of us may die to destroy the Sith. That's a sacrifice that we must make to keep people safe. You know the galaxy would suffer if they are not stopped. _Countless_ would die under them. Countless may have already. The Jedi must stop them, no matter the cost." Luminara watched the Master's face tremble, and she draper her arm across his broad chest. "The exchange is not fair, Qui-Gon. No Sith is worth a single Jedi life. But peace _is_ , and if that's the price we must pay, than we must be ready to pay it."

"...I know you're right. I do, but-"

"I felt the same as you, Qui-Gon. All life is valuable, and Obi-Wan's was cut unfairly short. Peace doesn't seem worth it without him."

"...y-yes..."

"...do you want revenge?"

The Master shook his head. "Vengeance won't bring Obi-Wan back."

Luminara nodded, smiling softly at the older man. "You're a fine Jedi, Qui-Gon. Even if you don't keep to the Code, even if you are struggling with your attachments, you are a greater Master than most I know."

Qui-Gon pulled Luminara to him, hugging her tightly, and he could feel the small woman chuckle into his chest.

"Master?" Qui-Gon's dark blue eyes looked up to see the Padawans standing before them, Barriss' eyes averted and flushing a dark shade of green, but Anakin was smirking, mischief in his bright blue eyes. "Barriss and I can go elsewhere if you and Master Luminara need some time alone, Master..." Skywalker drawled, and the Mirialan Master quickly wriggled out from Qui-Gon's grasp, her face the same shade as her blushing Padawan.

"Don't be absurd, Anakin," the Master said softly, holding his hand out, and the boy dutifully placed the borrowed saber in his hands. "Though if you two are done sparring, you and I need to get back to your studies in meditation."

"What? Master, no, we're not done!"Skywalker reached out to grab for Qui-Gon's lightsaber, but the Master held it just out of reach, clipping it back to his belt when Anakin dove for it and missed.

"It looks like you are done to me. Aren't you done, Barriss?" The girl dutifully nodded, smiling slightly at her friend's distress. "Excellent. Come now, Anakin, say goodbye." The teenager groaned loudly, but did as he was bid, bowing to the Mirialans, and standing beside his Master, a frown on his face and trying to stand as tall as he could. It was not near the height of his towering mentor.

"Shall we see each other tomorrow to discuss the Council's decision?" Luminara asked, and the elder Jedi nodded.

"I would like that. Anakin needs to work on his form as well, so shall we meet back here around the same time?"

"I look forward to it." The two Mirialan's bowed and turned and left, Master and Padawan watching them as they walked out of the hall.

"Do you think everything's going to be alright?" Anakin asked after a while, feeling through the Force for his Master's presence and finding it turbulent and disturbed. There was something more there than just grief.

"I don't know, Anakin, but something feels..."

"Wrong?" His Master looked at him and nodded. "I feel it too."

"Remember this feeling. The Force is trying to tell us something. We must continue to be mindful of it."

"...is it the Sith, Master?"

"I don't know." Qui-Gon took a deep breath and closed his dark blue eyes. "Obi-Wan would have known. He was always better than me at feeling disturbances in the Force."

"...what would he have said?"

The Master looked at Anakin and saw real worry, concern and fear in his bright blue eyes. Every part of him wanted to shield the teen from what was to come, but Qui-Gon knew better now. "He would have said it was the Dark Side we feel. He felt it often and strongly. I can only imagine this unease is what he meant."

"Are we ready to face it?"

"...no. Nothing we do will make us ready."

Anakin looked at his Master, and the pain was in his eyes, but beyond the grief he saw, there was a fierce determination that he hadn't seen before. Everything would be fine. The Force was with them.


	7. Grievous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I have said before, I'm taking things out of canon as much as I am able. Which means that Grievous here isn't the one that was forced into a cybernetic body to save his life. This is the one that intentionally went under the knife to make himself stronger. Legends makes him more sympathetic, yes, but I think he's sort of more of a badass in canon. If you're all about the Legends continuity than...sorry? But give it a chance, I'm going to make this work to the most awesome degree. Let's go!

Scipio was a frozen waste of a planet. A rich, ridiculously wealthy waste of a planet, but a waste none the less, and Obi-Wan wasn't happy to be there. The young Sith had become accustomed to a level of comfort and luxury, and while he was no stranger to pain, he didn't see why he should have to expose himself to undesirable climates. Serenno was temperate and beautiful. Raxus was temperate and beautiful. Scipio only had a bank and hostile mountains and snow.

Obi-Wan landed his ship in the center of the hanger of a massive mountain fortress that served as the headquarters of the InterGalactic Banking Clan. He _could_ have landed where he was designated by ground control when he entered the atmosphere, but Kenobi was irritated, and he was easily the most important person on the planet. They would make concessions for him, or they would be made to.

The Sith left the cruiser, hood pulled over his head, and was met immediately by two dozen armed Iotran guards, all of their weapons drawn, primed, and pointed at him. Obi-Wan did not stop walking, he merely lifted his hand, and the guards rose into the air, their weapons dropping to the ground, a few of them firing from the impact, the plasma rounds striking the walls and leaving deep burns in the durasteel. The guards were flailing, clutching at their throats as the life was slowly squeezed out of them. Obi-Wan smirked from the shadows of his hood.

"I wonder if your commander will arrive before you all asphyxiate." The Sith smiled, watching the men's struggling intensify as their lungs began to burn, the Dark Side raging around him and at his every command. "You know why they sent you boys instead of their droid division?" The Sith tightened his grasp, and the guards' movements began to slow. "Their droids are _expensive_..."

A Muun guard came running from the hanger's security booth, and Kenobi's yellow eyes watched him approach, his grip on the guards loosening just enough for them to take in strained, wheezing breaths, and lowering them so the tips of their boots could just scrape the ground.

"Wait, stop!" the Muun cried, hands in the air, and the glowing yellow eyes narrowed. How _dare_ this insignificant tell him what to do. "I apologize, my Lord. We did know you were coming, but we expected you in a Separatist aligned ship."

"That was your first error. Are these your men?" He tightened his grip, and the soldiers began their thrashing again. Muuns were pale to begin with, but the guard became translucent.

"Y-yes, my Lord, I'm the lieutenant of this troop."

"And you sent your Iotran Guard against me _why_?"

"Sir, we have a strict order on this hanger, you set your ship down-"

" _Exactly_ where I wanted." Kenobi smirked as the lieutenant tensed, the man becoming obstinate. The Sith let go of the guards, the men coughing as air rushed into their lungs. Obi-Wan smiled. "Now, my friend, you _did_ say you knew I was coming, yes?"

"Yes, sir, we-"

"And you _do_ know who I am, right?"

The Muun crossed his long arms as he grew impatient with the human's arrogance. "You are the Negotiator. _Sir_."

Kenobi grinned. "Would you like to see how I negotiate?" The Muun didn't move. The Sith closed his eyes and pointed to a random guard. "You. Pick up your weapon and stand." The Iotran did as commanded. Obi-Wan pointed to the lieutenant. "Kill him."

The guard opened fire, unloading the plasma bolts into the Muun's body, each one punching a new hole into the tall, thin body, the trained guard's shots striking each of the supervisor's three hearts. The rest of the troop looked on uneasily, some of the soldiers bending to pick up their weapons, others looking at the dead body of their commanding officer and slowly backing away, hands in the air.

"Freeze, all of you." The guards froze in their places, shivering as the yellow eyes swept over them. "Step forward if you're holding your weapon." The six guards that had bent to retrieve their weapons stepped forward. Kenobi smiled sweetly. "What are you waiting for? Kill each other."

The six guards opened fire, the plasma bolts flying and striking the guards, the highly trained Iotrans not missing a single shot as the soldiers dropped to the ground, bodies twitching as the life left them. Kenobi turned his glowing eyes on the remainder of the guard.

"Now," he purred, stepping closer to the troop, and the guards backed up, hands high in the air. "I believe there was a problem with my ship?"

One guard stepped forward, kicking one of the blasters away from him as he drew closer to the Sith. "No, my Lord, no trouble at all."

"Oh, _lovely_. I'll see about getting you a _competent_ commanding officer. See that this mess is cleaned up."

The guards saluted and quickly began to take care of the task assigned to them, and Obi-Wan turned to leave the hanger for the inner fortress of the Banking Clan. He didn't get very far, only just leaving the hanger for the long hallways of the mountain fortress before he was stopped by a delegation of Muuns, one of which he recognized as Chairman San Hill. The banker bowed deeply.

"Welcome, my Lord. We have been awaiting your arrival."

"With an armed guard, it seems."

"Yes, we saw the situation in the hanger," the Muun said, his voice thin and laced with fear. "You were right to handle it the way you did. We did not give them any orders to act as they did."

"I _shouldn't_ have had to handle it." Kenobi smirked, his golden eyes burning into the Muun from the shadows of his hood. "I must ask, how far up does this incompetency go?"

"My Lord, we strive to-"

"Good, good," the Sith interrupted, and the tall, thin creatures looked at each other nervously. "You will execute the colonel in charge of your security division."

"Y-yes, my Lord, right away!" San Hill sent two of the Muuns that were with him off, speaking to them softly in the strange, mumbled tones of the Muun language, and Kenobi frowned. He had learned several languages under the orders of his Master, but the binary Muun language could not be spoken by humans. He closed his eyes, gauging their intentions through the Force, and found only fear and a nearly crippling desire to please the Sith.

"Now, my Lord," Hill said softly when his fellows had left, "what is your business here on Scipio?"

"I need to talk to your chief enforcer."

"...Grievous?"

"Unless you have another one I don't know about, then _yes_."

"O-of course," the Muun said swiftly, the already pale color draining from him. "Follow me, my Lord."

They walked in silence, San Hill's long, thin legs taking him swiftly through the building, frequently having to stop to wait for the Sith Lord, who was leisurely taking his time, his gait a relaxed stroll as his feet fell almost silently on the cold, hard ground. Kenobi was in no rush, and he wouldn't be hurried along by the likes of Chairman San Hill. Obi-Wan found the entire Muun race to be insufferable, and the only reason he could tolerate the one before him was because Chairman Hill had a crippling fear of the Sith Lord. He had seen what the Negotiator was capable of, he was there on Raxus when the Sith debilitated his cyborg enforcer. The rest of the Muuns were arrogant, a ridiculous notion that was amplified by the false sense of superiority that came from their long lives and high intelligence.

But they were weak, cowardly, and in time, they would come to serve the Sith, as all others would. The Muun were not special. They just believed they were.

Kenobi reached out with the Force to grab the Chairman's mind, and the Muun stopped in his tracks, shuddering as he felt a cold grip within his elongated head. It wasn't painful, but San Hill was afraid. Terribly so. Nute Gunray had spoken about what the young Sith was capable of.

"Keep walking," Kenobi softly drawled, a smirk on his lips as fear crippled his guide. "I'm not going to hurt you... _yet_." The banker whimpered, shaking uncontrollably and too afraid to move. "I just want access to your mind. I don't need you to be in pain for that, but if you don't keep moving, _well_...I have always found pain to be a _strong_ motivator."

That settled it. On shaky legs, San Hill kept walking, his long, quick stride slowed to nearly a crawl, the Sith's own lazy pace now matching the fearful Muun. He could feel the presence of the man beside him in his mind, like a shadowy hand that pet and soothed as long fingers pried into memories and information that the banker had kept locked away from everyone. His fear slowly faded as he felt a slow throbbing in his head, his mind becoming hazy as his every emotion was replaced with calm, quiet submission.

"I need you to give additional funding to the Techno Union for the research and development of more advanced droids. I have already spoken to Wat Tambor about the matter, and he expects the funding immediately so he may begin."

"Yes, of course, my Lord." Hill could feel his entire being rising against the Sith's demands, but he couldn't find it within himself to disobey him. Matters regarding money always required discussion, contracts, approval from various parties, but the banker found himself taking out his datapad, his long fingers sweeping across the screen and transferring hundreds of millions of credits to the Techno Union's accounts. San whimpered as he did so; he wouldn't be Chairman for much longer when the others on the board found out about this.

"That wasn't so hard, was it?"

"N-no, my Lord..." As they walked down a long, dark hallway in the lowest levels of the mountain fortress, Obi-Wan's sharp ears could pick up the faint hissing of plasma striking metal, the noise becoming louder as they came to a thick durasteel door that looked like it could have been a personal vault. The door hissed open when San Hill typed in the access code, and the smell of burning metal hit Kenobi like a wall, and he breathed in deeply, a wide grin on his lips as he looked upon the cyborg Grievous, two lightsabers clutched in his claws and mindlessly striking at broken battle droids. They were all cut, the pieces scattered about the room in a haphazard mess of severed heads and legs, their wiring sparking and smoking from the touch of the deadly blue and green plasma blades.

"What's wrong, Grievous," Kenobi purred, his blazing yellow eyes looking at the cyborg as the creature reeled around to face him, and those reptilian eyes narrowed in anger. "Too scared to beat on something that fights back?"

A hollow, metallic snarl erupted from the cyborg, and he drew his lightsabers up, the two blades spinning at an inhuman rate before they stopped, long blades raised and poised toward the Sith. San Hill slowly backed out of the room, and Kenobi let him, the large, thick door closing with a deep, reverberating boom. Grievous began laughing. "It became too expensive to waste droids on my practice," the creature snarled, crouching down and eying the Sith's graceful movements. " _None_ can stand against me."

"Of course they can't, droids are _useless_. Only the weak find them a challenge. Are you weak, Grievous?"

"I'm personally trained by Count Dooku himself!" the cyborg snarled, his rough voice angry, and Obi-Wan simply laughed.

"Dooku is an old man. Being trained in combat by the elderly isn't something I'd consider worthy of bragging about." Kenobi shed his cloak, tossing the heavy black cloth to the side and watching in amusement as Grievous seemed to waver, slitted yellow eyes looking cautious and confused.

"You are...younger than I imagined."

Obi-Wan could feel the cyborg's eyes running over him, observing how he moved, how he was built, and the Sith could feel caution, apprehension, a general feeling of unease run through the mechanical man, though Obi-Wan had to admit that he hid it well, those reptilian eyes angry and blazing despite his fear.

"Does my age matter?" Kenobi drawled, his voice light and cocky as he gauged his enemy. He had been inside Grievous' mind once before, and it was making it much easier to break past his defense again, the cyborg shuddering and growling as he felt the Sith inside his mind.

"It doesn't matter!" He was snarling, vicious and angry, his flare of temper forcing Obi-Wan out of his mind, and he drew his lightsabers up once again. "You are young and inexperienced, your age is a weakness!"

"Is it?" Obi-Wan reached behind him and took his own lightsaber into his hand, flicking it on and watching the cyborg's eyes widen as the red blade extended. He felt the Dark Side build within him, a raging force that he exerted absolute control over. It had been a long time since he had engaged in a real fight, and he found his entire being aching for it, his nerves on fire with excitement. He fought with Dooku often, but the Count was old and growing weary, and the fights they had were no longer a challenge. He _did_ train in lightsaber combat with Darth Sidious, but those weren't fights; those were long, drawn out exercises in pain and suffering.

"When I kill you, _Jedi_ , I am taking that blade and adding it to my collection!"

"Oh, sweet Force, there is so much wrong with that sentence..." Kenobi groaned, focus shifting away from his enemy as he rolled his eyes. "Do I even _look_ like a Jedi to you?"

" _Yes_." Kenobi rolled his eyes again, scoffing, and the cyborg became more angry. "I have trained with Dooku, and he was a Jedi! I've seen what his Jedi powers can do, and _you_ are a Jedi!"

" _Was_ a Jedi, once. A long time ago. Same as your Master, but we serve...something different now." Kenobi raised his lightsaber over his shoulder, pointing at Grievous with his free hand and beaconing him to attack. The cyborg fell for the taunt and threw himself at the Sith, both blades swinging wildly, rotating on his mechanical hands.

It was the most fun Obi-Wan had in ages.

Kenobi was loathe to admit it, but Grievous was very, _very_ good. He ducked and dodged, his graceful defensive movements keeping the savage cyborg from landing a hit, but the creature was fast, agile and switched styles often. From Dooku's preferred Makashi to the amalgamation of the other styles in the form of Niman, Grievous ran through them all, even showed hints of the extremely difficult Vaapad that Mace Windu had developed and mastered. A great deal of his movements fit none of the traditional lightsaber forms, the motions he executed possible only because of his mechanical body and cybernetic enhancements. The last session with Sidious was designed for Obi-Wan to master the art of breaking into a Jedi's mind while they were focused in combat, and the same trick was proving very useful now.

Kenobi grabbed the cyborg's organic mind with the Force, feeling the electric charge of the nodes attached to the creature's brain. Grievious' mind was cybernetically enhanced, like the rest of him, and it accounted for his advanced processing speed and a great deal of his movements. His combat skills were learned and programmed, his dueling a mix of computer programming and animal instinct, and it made him exceptionally dangerous.

Grievous' two blades locked with Kenobi's red ones, and the cyborg drew near as he pressed his weight down, attempting to force the Sith's blade to cut its master. "I hated you the moment I saw you," Kenobi purred, and he watched the creature's eyes narrow. "It was always absurd. An army of droids commanded by a _droid_."

" _I am not a droid_!" Grievous snarled, lashing out low at the Sith, and Obi-Wan blocked it, deftly stepping out of the way of his other blade as it was quickly brought down into the spot Kenobi was standing a second ago. The red blade arched around, striking at the cyborg's shoulder, but his strike was quickly blocked, but only just barely, and Grievous' balance was lost for a second. It was enough for Obi-Wan to get the mechanical man attempting to defend as the red blade pressed closer.

"I know...but you'll forgive the mistake, it's hard to tell." He smirked, dancing out of the way as Grievous howled in rage, pressing a new offense. "And you can hardly blame me. _You_ hate me too." Kenobi smiled. "Why?"

"You are a _Jedi_!"

"I'm _really_ not," Kenobi drawled, lazily stepping out of the way of a random swing and deftly blocking the other. He was in tune with the Force, and the Dark Side and him were one. He could almost predict all of the cyborg's movements. Like Grievous, the longer he fought, the more he understood his enemy and the better he got. His defensive Soresu was conserving the Sith's energy, and despite his look, Grievous was _not_ a droid, and though his cybernetics greatly augmented his stamina, what remained of his body was beginning to show fatigue.

"I was told to make peace with you," Kenobi said, dancing out of the way of Grievous' swings. "But one look at you told me that peace isn't your way. You're a man of war, and strength is all that matters."

"It is the only thing that ever mattered!" The reptilian eyes were blazing with fury as his wrists began to spin at a blinding speed, making the lightsabers in his grasp cut through the air like buzz saws. The cyborg slowly advanced, and Kenobi backed up, giving ground as the tips of the weapons occasionally cut the floor, sending showers of sparks flying.

"I know. Which is why I decided that to make peace, I'd have to beat you senseless." Grievous growled and launched himself at Kenobi, his agile, heavy body skidding past the Sith as he carefully sidestepped the provoked cyborg. Grievous was angry, blindly so, and his rage was feeding Kenobi's powers, the wrath of the mechanical man fueling the Dark Side. Their blades locked, Grievous using his superior strength to move his opponent back. Kenobi's boots left black marks on the floor as he was pushed back, the relentless cyborg directing him toward the back wall, and when they were close, Grievous lifted his clawed leg to kick the Sith against the wall.

The sharp yellow eyes of the Sith Lord caught what Grievous was up to just before the deadly appendage crushed into him, and he dodged out of the way, his red saber coming down to sever the cyborg's leg at the knee. Grievous howled, not in pain, but in rage as his forward momentum sent him face first into the wall, the sharp sound of metal striking metal ringing through the air.

"You misunderstand me, Grievous," Obi-Wan purred, keeping his distance as the cyborg slowly pushed himself off the ground, a clawed hand gripping his sinister mask that covered his presumably organic head. "I admire strength, you see. I left the Jedi to obtain true power. I've seen inside your mind, _Kaleesh_ , and I understand your struggle."

"You understand _nothing_!" The golden reptilian eyes were burning with rage, the warrior standing on his one good leg, bent to allow what remained of his second leg to touch the ground, and his arms detached, the metal and cybernetics unfolding and reforming, his thick limbs separating to become four thin arms. He pitched forward, two arms on the ground, and the other two in the air, the sabers poised and ready to fight.

"...that is an _extremely_ clever trick, who designed that?" With an outraged roar, Grievous crawled toward the Sith, his movements slowed by the missing leg as it scraped off the ground, but he was not hindered much. "Shall I tell you what's in your mind, or are you going to tell me?"

" _Shut up and fight_!" The cyborg swung at the evasive man furiously, and though he was not terribly hindered, the infuriating, smirking man was quick and defensive, readily taking advantage of the mechanical man's handicap by forcing Grievous to put weight on the severed limb, sending his body off-balance as the sharp metal screeched on the ground. He swung his blue weapon in a downward arch, just missing the Sith as he jumped, twisting in the air, red blade lashing out and Grievous found his weight pitching forward, face skidding on the ground. Furious reptilian eyes looked to the side to see one of his supporting arms laying ten feet away from him.

"At first," the Sith drawled, voice lazy and amused, and Grievous couldn't have hated his carefree, affected tone anymore than he did in that moment, "I looked down on you. A creature so weak, so _insignificant_ that he abandoned his body in favor of a stronger, mechanical one. More machine than man. You made yourself better with cybernetics to become what you never could on your own."

Grievous dropped one saber, placing his free hand on the ground to crawl toward the Sith, the green blade swinging furiously as the creature howled, raspy and metallic behind his mask. The ferocity of the attack sent Obi-Wan on the defensive, but only for a short time. Kenobi found his focus, his red blade easily blocking the cyborg's single weapon, and he grabbed the augmented mind with the Force, sending a wave of searing pain through the creature, and Grievous collapsed, snarling in pain and rage. The Sith reached out, and the cyborg's two abandoned sabers flew to his hand. With the dangerous man disarmed, Kenobi let go of his hold, the pain leaving as the man took panting, ragged breaths, coughing from the extended effort.

"I'm honestly impressed. After all, I did similar." Obi-Wan crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes locking with the cyborg's when the fallen warrior looked up at his victorious opponent. "I left the Jedi to become powerful. The Jedi hold back, restrict their powers for fear of what they may bring, but _I_ don't fear power or darkness. _I_ don't fear the changes one must undergo, the sacrifices one must to become truly powerful. And now, I'm stronger than any Jedi, as you are stronger than any of your people."

"It isn't enough!" Grievous snarled, and Kenobi smiled softly.

"It never is, is it?"

"I lose against Dooku, an old man! I lose against _you_ , and you are _barely_ a man!"

" _Well_ , I wouldn't say _barely_..."

"If _I_ had the power of the _Force_..."

"...oh." Kenobi's eyes lit up. "I see now. It was hard to read before, Dooku stopped me from looking too deep." He smiled warmly, looking at the cyborg as he crawled to his fallen arm, taking it in one of his hands before he scuttled across the floor, the cut leg dragging across the ground and leaving a trail of sparks as he made his way to the other piece of his leg. "I saw admiration and respect for the Jedi turned to hatred and jealousy when I looked within you. The Jedi are fearsome warriors, peerless on the battlefield, and _you_ are a warrior. It makes sense you'd want to emulate them."

Grievous snarled, frustration and bitter resignation in his metallic voice as he pulled himself across the floor, dropping to the ground before Kenobi and sitting up, two arms folding back into one, and the other sparking and whirring as the mechanics attempted to connect an arm that just wasn't there. "You are...a superior warrior," the cyborg growled, head bowed as he examined his severed limbs.

"Of course I'm better than you. I'm better than Dooku, and Dooku is better than you. If I lost, it would be _embarrassing_."

Grievous grumbled softly in agreement. "I underwent augmentations to make myself stronger, so I could have an edge in battle. I have no connection with the Force, so how could I ever match the Jedi?" The cyborg snarled, his clawed hand clutching his severed leg tightly. "One day, I will beat a Jedi in battle. One day, _I_ will have that power!"

Obi-Wan sat silently for a moment, quietly contemplating this as he watched the cyborg try to fit the severed limbs back on, snarling in anger when he saw it was hopeless. "...I'm something of an amateur mechanic. May I see that?"

Grievous looked at the Sith suspiciously, eying his graceful, extended hand, and, growling, put the severed arm in his hand. "It is beyond your knowledge, _Jedi_."

"Don't underestimate me. Being close to Dooku puts me close to the Techno Union, and my Master has... _encouraged_ my technological studies." Obi-Wan held up the arm, looking it over. "And don't call me Jedi."

" _Jedi_."

The Sith frowned. "You must have a workstation. I can't be the first one to sever your limbs."

"...follow me." Grievous returned to all fours, crawling along the floor, his severed left leg slipping every time he put his weight on it, Kenobi following closely behind. The cyborg pounded on a door at the far end of the room, the hinges bending and breaking under the frustrated force of the heavy clawed hand, and the door fell to the ground with a resounding bang. He pulled himself up to his one leg using the doorframe for support and hobbled to a cold steel table in the center of the small workstation.

Obi-Wan immediately began looking around, familiarizing himself with the platings and cybernetics that were scattered about on different desks in the cluttered room as the cyborg hoisted himself up onto the table. "Who fixes you when you break?"

Grievous sat up straight from his place at the table, snarling in anger. "I don't _break, Jedi_." Kenobi just stared at him and held up the severed arm. "...Dooku has a _droid_ that can fix the damage he causes."

"Why isn't it here?"

"Dooku doesn't _break me here_."

Kenobi smirked, picking up the tools he wanted from the bench. "On your back." With a soft growl, Grievous did as commanded, and Obi-Wan swiftly set to work, removing the entire shoulder joint of the severed arm. He came around to examine the intact one, picking it up and moving it in all directions, and he opened it up to observe the mechanics of it, despite a snarl of protest from the cyborg.

"You can call me Kenobi, if you like," Obi-Wan said softly as he dropped Grievous' arm, sitting down at one of the benches and grabbing the hardware he needed.

" _Jedi_." Grievous chuckled as the Sith's golden eyes fell on him, narrowed in anger.

" _Droid_." Grievous stopped laughing.

"... _Kenobi_." The Sith smirked softly and bent to his work, the cyborg watching carefully as the swift, deft fingers connected and assembled the arm, removing the severed, useless piece from the shoulder joint and carefully attaching the piece he built. "If you are not Jedi, what are you?"

"What does Dooku tell you he is?"

"Dooku _was_ a Jedi. He left because they are _weak_."

"You became a _machine_ to compete with the Jedi combat prowess. You think the Jedi weak?"

Grievous snarled viciously. "I am stronger than the Jedi now!"

"...you're right." Kenobi slid his hand over the arm, testing the hydraulics and making certain the pieces moved smoothly. "You could probably defeat many in the Order. You're fast and unpredictable and completely brutal. A bit unrefined, maybe, but that can be trained out of you."

Grievous watched as the Sith brought the arm to him and began attaching it, the cybernetics latching into place as he secured the appendage. "...could you teach me?"

"My Master keeps me busy with other things. I don't have the time."

"Make the time." Kenobi's eyes narrowed, looking at the cyborg on the table. Grievous quickly realized his mistake, growled, and snarled, "I am _worth_ your time _._ "

"...finish your training with Dooku. I'll be around occasionally so...we'll see." He quickly bent to the task of removing the broken leg, examining the mechanics of the functioning leg and returning to the workbench. "I have a proposition." Grievous was silent, but Kenobi could feel his eyes on him, felt through the Force that he was listening and interested. "I'm going to be hunting Jedi very, _very_ soon for... _personal_ reasons. I thought we could work together in this."

" _Why_. You fight better than I do. You don't need help killing Jedi."

"You're right, I don't. But I'm not trying to _kill_ Jedi, I'm trying to capture them. And I'm going to need a lot of Jedi. More than I can take on my own, and my Master needs me to keep to the shadows."

Grievous snarled viciously. "What's the point if you do not kill them?"

"Oh, sweetie, death is too easy." Kenobi smirked, snapping two pieces together and bolting them, moving the joint of the knee he was building. "Killing a Jedi is one thing, but capturing them takes a level of skill and finesse that only the best can accomplish. I need live Jedi. Of course, you can keep the lightsabers of any Jedi we _do_ capture. Can you help me?"

The cyborg drummed the fingers of his new arm on the metallic table, testing the finite movements of the appendage that the Sith built, and he found it surprisingly functional. Perfect, even. "What will you do with them?"

Obi-Wan turned to look at his patient, a cruel smirk on his lips. "I'm going to _break them_. I'm going to reach into their minds and pull them to pieces. I'm going to rip their minds apart. I'm going to make them suffer like they never have, I'm going to watch them _drown_ in agony. They will show me everything, their thoughts, their memories, their fears, and they're going to do it because I _commanded it_. By the time I'm done, they will _beg_ for death."

Grievous' eyes narrowed in sinister delight. "I might just like you, Kenobi."

"You'll help?" The cyborg nodded, and the Sith brought over the leg and swiftly attached it. He stood, clawed feet clanking on the ground as he moved his limbs, stretching the mechanical joints and testing the intricate hydraulics. Everything moved perfectly.

"You're an amateur, hmm?"

Kenobi shrugged. "As I said, I'm close to the Techno Union. I studied your schematics before I came. Though, I admit, I wasn't suspecting to have to put you back together..." Grievous' eyes narrowed, and the Sith laughed, clear and light and shockingly good-natured. "I have been talking to them about redesigning the battle droids to make a more effective fighting force. I recommended a design based on yours. Of course, we will need people for the experiments, but I have a particular... _gift_ for making people see things my way."

"You would have an army of cyborgs?"

"I would have an army of advanced battle droids that are commanded by cyborgs."

Grievous nodded thoughtfully. "That is an improvement."

Kenobi grinned, about to answer when his comlink buzzed. Frowning, he turned from Grievous and answered the call, the little blue hologram of his Master appearing before him. The Sith bowed his head in respect. "Master."

"Are you alone?" Sidious said softly, and Kenobi shook his head.

"I'm with Grievous. We are discussing the acquisition of my... _playthings_."

The Sith Master was silent for a moment, and Obi-Wan held his breath. Even from the distance, he could feel the presence of his Master in his mind, and he knew full well that the span of the galaxy couldn't keep Sidious from inflicting pain on him, if that was his desire. Finally, the Sith Lord drawled, "Finish up what you are doing. I need you to oversee matters on Kabal."

"Do you require the planet, Master?"

"Yes. Bring them to you."

Kenobi bowed. "As you command, my Master." The hologram flickered off, and Obi-Wan felt his Master's presence fade. He turned to his cyborg companion, a wicked grin on his face. "The planet Kabal is in crisis," he drawled, his accented voice smooth and aristocratically clipped. "The Republic will certainly be there to try and keep the peace. Want to go hunt some Jedi?"

Obi-Wan couldn't see the cyborg's face under that mask, if he even had a face left, but if he did, Kenobi knew that mouth would be grinning. "Lead the way, my Lord."


	8. The Kabal Riots

"I'm telling you, I'm not going to be any help here."

The blue hologram of Count Dooku crossed his arms, glaring at the younger Sith, and Kenobi did likewise. He could be obstinate too. "Our Master gave _you_ this mission, Kenobi, not me. If he needed my aid, he would have asked for _me_."

"I've been studying the situation, Dooku, and there is nothing for me to do there. The people are in open rebellion against their Republic-aligned government. The Senate is almost certainly going to send aid, but if _we_ send aid to them first, we're going to be hailed as heroes. Kabal will come to us without any effort at all."

The Count sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Where are you now?"

"We're in orbit around Kabal."

"We?"

"Yes, Grievous is with me. A small Republic cruiser entered the planet's atmosphere about fifteen minutes ago, which is why I contacted _you_." Dooku was just staring at him, mouth parted and eyes narrowed in confusion. "... _what_?!"

" _Grievous_ is with you?"

"Yes, he is. Is that a problem?"

Dooku relaxed, a satisfied smirk on his face. "Not at all. What aid do you need?"

"Food and medical supplies. The riots are due to a Trade Federation strike on the nearby trade corridor. How quickly can you be here?"

Dooku brought up his maps, looking over the sector routes and locating his nearby allies. "Sluis Van is the closest Separatist world capable of lending significant aid. They can be there within an hour, but I doubt it will be useful if the Republic is there already."

"You leave that to me," Kenobi drawled, leaning back in his seat and entering the coordinates for Shoribus, the planet's capital city. "I can make certain that the riots become violent. If it's a political delegation, they won't be making it back to Coruscant."

"And if it's _not_ political?"

Obi-Wan grinned wickedly. "That's why I brought Grievous. It's open season on Jedi." Kenobi cut the com and guided the ship toward the planet, the sleek black ship cutting easily through space and entering the atmosphere with ease. Kabal was beautiful, a planet covered in clear oceans spotted with large, forested islands. Shoribus was a city populated mostly by humans and colonists from other worlds, and despite the size of the oceans, the life that lived within them was primarily inedible. The planet relied on trade, and without traffic along the trade corridor, the major city could not support itself for long, even with their meager fishing.

Obi-Wan set his ship down in the hanger where he was directed, respectfully complying with ground control. He didn't want to make a scene, at least not yet. Kenobi left the cockpit and went to find Grievous, the cyborg pacing restlessly up and down the halls, his clawed, metallic feet clacking against the ground.

"You know, you could have stayed in the cockpit with me."

" _You_ wouldn't let me fly!"

"Hey, she's _my ship!_ "

"I am a superior piolet!"

Kenobi scoffed. "Oh, I sincerely doubt it. And it's not like we're doing anything _complicated_. I could have left her on autopilot and not had an incident." The cyborg snarled and continued his pacing. "Listen, here's the plan. The Republic ship we saw was almost certainly not political. Kabal is beyond political intervention on the part of the Republic. There were Jedi on that cruiser, and I'm almost certain of it."

Grievous' yellow eyes snapped to the Sith, and he growled viciously. "I'll _kill_ them!"

"We'll _capture_ them, if we can, if I _say_ we can. Not all Jedi are worth engaging. If they sent a Master, than it shouldn't be a problem, but if they sent someone like Mace Windu-"

"I'll kill him if you're afraid, Kenobi."

Obi-Wan laughed. "Oh, you poor idiot, you _can't_ fight Mace Windu and come out alive." Grievous drew up to his full height, his organic lungs making his chest expand and his breath coming out in short, angry bursts. "No, you _can't_ , not yet. Let's throw you against some Jedi Knights first and see how you do, hmm?" That seemed to placate the cyborg, and he slowly lowered himself into a relaxed posture.

"What will we do, my Lord?"

Kenobi smiled slyly when the cyborg complied. "When we landed, there was a large military presence here, which wasn't in my report. The Jedi may have instituted martial law here, which won't sit well, I imagine. People _have_ died in the riots, which is why the Jedi were called in, and they will do what they must to keep the peace. We're going to observe the Jedi, assess the situation, and decide on a plan when we have the information we need. You, Grievous, need to stick by me and let me do the talking." The cyborg nodded, and Kenobi pulled his hood over his head and walked off the ship, Grievous following closely behind.

They were met immediately by a heavily armed soldier, the towering man standing directly in their path. "Return to your ship, citizens," the soldier commanded, and the Sith and the cyborg stopped. "There is a riot in the city. We ask you wait patiently until the Jedi put an end to the violence."

"Oh no, _violence_?" Kenobi said, shocked and concerned and one hand out before him. "That's _terrible_! It's a good thing you're here to take us to the city safely!"

The soldier nodded. "Of course. Follow me." He turned on his heel and marched swiftly out of the hanger, Kenobi and his cyborg companion close on his heels

Grievous leaned in close to the Sith, and as quietly as he could, he whispered, "How did you do that?"

"I'm the Negotiator, how do you think I do it?" Kenobi smirked, wiggling his fingers at the cyborg. "Mind control. I'm _very_ good at it." With a growl, Grievous straightened up, and Kenobi felt how impressed his companion was.

The soldier hadn't been lying. When the three got to the city, there was violence in the streets, an angry mob pressing against the military presence as they struggled to stop the rioters. The soldiers were trying not to injure anyone, but the people _were_ , several of them wielding weapons and taking shots at the forces trying to keep the peace. Kenobi took a deep breath in, chuckling deeply as the fear and rage of the people left him feeling empowered. Grievous growled next to him, reaching for his lightsaber, but Kenobi quickly shot his hand out, grabbing the metallic wrist.

"Not yet. We need to locate the Jedi." The cyborg nodded, leaving his weapon tucked safely away, and the Sith reached his hand out before him, the people in his path, soldiers and rioters both, slowly cleared a path, allowing the two Separatists to pass by completely unharmed. Obi-Wan led them through the violent mob, the rioters shooting at soldiers and looting storefronts and attacking each other in the chaos, but when the Sith came near, they cleared the way, unconsciously following the silent command to let their betters pass by unharmed.

Obi-Wan heard the hum of lightsabers before he saw them, and he grabbed his companion and ducked behind a home, kicking the door down and coldly observing the terrified, shaking family of Squibs huddled together in a corner. They said nothing when the intruders stood before them, simply bowed their heads and whimpered. Kenobi's sharp eyes darted around the small house, finding a staircase and quickly strode to it, taking the steps two at a time to come to a small loft, and he pushed through a door on the closest wall, leading out to a dusty balcony overlooking the plaza.

There were five of them down below, green and blue lightsabers swinging to deflect blaster bolts, the Jedi doing all they could to avoid hurting the populace, but violence had become unavoidable. There were several dead civilians surrounding them, the Jedi standing in a circle, their blades pointed out toward the raging crowed, and Kenobi couldn't help but smile. Grievous crawled out next to the Sith on all fours, keeping hidden by the small ledge that circled the balcony. He rose up to see over the edge.

" _Jedi_. Only five. We can take them."

"Not so fast." His sharp yellow eyes ran over the Jedi, taking them in as they moved, observing their style, their technique, their skill level, and the Sith frowned. "One is a Padawan, three are Knights. I've never seen them before."

"And you know _all_ Jedi?"

"I know the ones that matter. Those four should be easy. The Padawan can die, but I want the Knights alive, if possible."

"And the fifth?"

Obi-Wan's golden eyes narrowed, watching the last Jedi carelessly, effortlessly spin his green blade, deflecting blaster fire and using the Force with his outstretched hand to push the crowd back when they edged too close. It was the work of a Jedi Master, calm, collected, and completely in control, and Obi-Wan recognized him.

"That's Eeth Koth," the Sith muttered softly, and Grievous looked over at the cloaked man beside him, eyes narrowed.

"You _know_ him?"

"I do. That's a Jedi Master, and not just any Master, he sits on the High Council." His yellow eyes followed the Zabrak, and he could feel the anger rise in him. Master Koth had been there when Obi-Wan was struggling to get Jedi support to go after the Sith, which made him partially responsible for all that had happened. He took a deep breath, commanding the Dark Side to heed him, and he felt his anger blazing, but controlled.

"So we take him first," Grievous snarled, and Obi-Wan reached out to lay a gentle, calming hand on his armored shoulder.

"I'm considering leaving."

"You _can't_ be-"

" _Hush_." It was a command, and despite his strong will, Grievous obeyed, growling in frustration when he found himself unable to answer. Kenobi kept his eyes locked on the Master, watching how he moved, how he fought, taking note of his dominant hand, observing how he channeled the Force. The Zabrak was careful, cautious, his use of the Force channeled into calming energy as he tried to manage the rioting civilians. Like all Jedi, the Master was trying to establish peace, taking great care to avoid harming the people around him.

Kenobi stood. "They are distracted by the riot. We couldn't ask for a more ideal time to fight a member of the Jedi High Council." Grievous' eyes lit up, and he growled in sinister delight, and Kenobi couldn't help but smiling, feeling the rush of the Dark Side within him. "Engage the Knights first, but try not to kill them. We want the Master alone, and I want him alive at all costs. If the Knights must die so I may take the Master alive, so be it, but if Koth dies, I'm going to be _very_ angry."

"It will be done, my Lord." Grievous started to rise, reaching for his sabers, but Kenobi stopped him once again.

"I don't care if the civilians die, Grievous, but Separatist aid will be coming shortly. Do try and keep death to a minimum so we can look as good as possible." The cyborg nodded, grabbing his green and blue sabers and igniting them, the blades humming to life, and the cyborg's harsh, metallic laugh rang as he dropped to the ground, the crowed scattering as the towering creature landed before them, the Jedi drawing up their weapons and ready to engage.

Obi-Wan's golden eyes glowed in the shadows of his hood as he observed the scene below him. Fighting Grievous and watching him fight were two completely different things. Fighting him had been exhilarating, easily the most fun that the Sith Lord had in a very long time, but watching him was awe-inspiring. Grievous was _magnificent_. His skill with a lightsaber bordered on masterful, and as soon as he engaged the Jedi, he took command of the battle, quickly assessing his opponent's strength and setting to picking it apart. It didn't take long for Grievous to plunge his green saber through the chest of the Padawan, the young human gasping as he dropped to the ground, the life draining from him quickly as two of the Knights surrounded him, Master Koth's eyes narrowing in focus as he felt the Padawan's presence in the Force fade to nothing.

The Padawan's fallen saber was called into the outstretched hand of one of the Knights, the blue blade igniting and the woman, her entire being focused on the cyborg, ran in to engage, twin blades twirling and the other three Jedi coming to flank Grievous and prepared to support their fellow Jedi. The death of the Padawan made the rioting crowd creep back in, their initial fear waning when they saw that the towering cyborg wasn't there to help the imposing Jedi. Slowly, they began to bring up their weapons, keeping clear of the swiftly moving lightsabers, but quickly working themselves up into a frenzy once again, shouting and shooting at the Jedi, and the Knights were forced to divide their attention between the mob and the dangerous combatant.

The dual-wielding Knight, her focus on the cyborg, was too slow to stop a blaster bolt from shooting through her shoulder, the woman screaming in pain for just a moment before Grievous' saber cut up in a swift, wicked arc, the tip digging into her stomach and slashing up the length of her body and up her face, and Grievous howled in fury; the blaster had pushed the Jedi forward, and his strike had turned from debilitating to instantly fatal. The remaining three Jedi backed up, taking a defensive position as Grievous' arms split, the mechanics whirling and setting into place as he crouched down, his two extra arms grabbing the sabers out of the dead Jedi's hands. With a vicious snarl, the blades began spinning on his rotating mechanical wrists, and the cyborg advanced on the Jedi.

The remaining Jedi had a moment to regroup, but it wasn't enough, their attention constantly divided by the mechanical warrior and the vicious crowed that was growing more frenzied as the moments passed. Eeth Koth took the point position, the other two Jedi at his side, and the Master rushed in to attack the cyborg, hand held out in front of him and blasting Grievous back with the Force, and the assailant was pushed back, claws leaving long, deep gouges in the ground and snarling as he was forced to take a moment to recover. That moment was enough for Master Koth to pull one of the sabers out of Grievous' hand, and without wasting a second, he began a furious assault on the cyborg.

Obi-Wan watched the battle play out, the tide momentarily turning in favor of the Jedi as Grievous struggled to recover under the relentless assault of the Jedi. They pressed their advantage as best they could, but the opportunity was wasted when one of the Knights stepped in, his blade coming in a swift, downward strike, and Grievous darted toward him, his clawed hand shooting out and grabbing the Jedi's wrist in a crushing grasp, and the man dropped the saber as his wrist was shattered. Grievous brought up one of his clawed legs and swiftly kicked it into the Jedi's gut, his mechanical arm wrenching backwards as he did so, and the Knight flew back, his arm torn from his body with a wet snap, and the Knight struck one of the surrounding buildings, sliding down the wall in a trail of blood.

The last knight cried in rage, raising his saber and ignoring the commands of the Master, and he rushed the cyborg, lightsaber swinging wildly, and the mechanical warrior effortlessly blocked with his three sabers, tossing the dismembered arm to the ground and striking the Jedi across his head with a heavy, clawed hand. The Knight dropped his saber and fell to the ground laying still in the dust. Grievous' yellow reptilian eyes fell on the Jedi Master and narrowed, Koth holding the two sabers crossed out in front of him, breath even and demeanor calm, and Kenobi could feel the Force swirl around him, moving with his every breath as if it was a part of the Jedi Master. Grievous was good, yes, as the fallen Jedi around him were evidence of, but this was a member of the Jedi High Council, a Jedi Master fully in tune with the Force, which made him exceptionally dangerous. Kenobi stood and walked off the balcony.

The raging mob scattered again, and Eeth Koth's eyes darted off to his side to see a figure in a black cloak crouched on the ground, slowly rising to his full height, and from under his hood, he could see glowing yellow eyes. Grievous stopped his advance when the man slowly walked forward, and Master Koth turned to face him, one blade pointed at the figure in black, the other trained on Grievous.

The Zabrak breathed deeply, centering himself in the Force when he felt the tremendous pressure of the Dark Side fall upon him. He was too short to be the towering Count Dooku, which meant there was only one person the man could be. "You're the Negotiator."

His mouth turned up into a cruel smirk. "Yes."

"The Jedi knew you'd be here," Koth growled, raising his weapon and ready to engage. "You're becoming predictable."

"Am I?" He laughed, cold and harsh, and Koth felt a shiver go up his spine. "If they knew I would be here, they would have sent a better swordsman than you."

"I'm more than enough for you, Sith."

Kenobi held his hands up, his eyes glinting with sinister delight. "Are you? You couldn't save your friends, what makes you think you can save yourself?" The Zabrak said nothing, he just clutched the weapons tighter. "Put your weapons away, Master Koth, I'm unarmed."

The Zabrak sucked in a sharp breath of air, his grip on the sabers loosening for a moment before he gripped them tightly again. "How do you know me?"

"Oh, my dear, I have taken the time to get to know my enemy." Kenobi smiled wickedly. "Haven't you?"

"You've made that a bit difficult, Negotiator, why don't we get to know each other? I'm sure it will be _enlightening_."

"You wouldn't be saying that if you knew what I am." Kenobi smirked, reaching out with the Dark Side and touching the Zabrak Master, and for a moment, something flashed in the Jedi's eyes.

"I..." He shook his head, trying to clear the feeling, but it was no good. He gripped his saber tighter. "I... _know_ your voice."

"Do you..." Kenobi purred, watching the Master struggle to recall the memories he was searching for, growling in frustration when he found nothing.

"The Dark Side clouds everything, but not for long. When I have ended you, the Force will show me the truth."

Obi-Wan laughed loudly. " _Ended_ me? Oh, Master Koth, that's not the way of the Jedi, now is it?"

"You don't have the right to lecture me on my own Code, _Sith_." The Master didn't waste another moment. The Negotiator's words were poison, and he wouldn't listen to them any longer. Sabers raised, he rushed the unarmed man, his blades striking down and clashing against the swiftly drawn deep red blade of the Sith Lord, those golden eyes blazing and amused. He swung again, his green blade arching upwards through the air and missing the Sith completely, and the Negotiator slipped within his guard, the long red blade thrusting into the Zabrak's right shoulder. Hissing in pain, Koth's left handed weapon covered his retreat, his right hand tightening around the lightsaber, refusing to allow the burning sensation to force him to drop the blade.

Obi-Wan was relaxed, his weapon resting easily in his hand. The battle with Grievous had left the Jedi fatigued, and even with enough time to center himself, the Master's body was growing tired, his connection to the Force disturbed as he tried to puzzle out where he knew the man from. Kenobi's own Master fought with two lightsabers, so he had ample practice in slipping within the fragile guard of the highly offensive dual-wielders. As good as this Jedi Master was, he was nothing when compared to the Dark Side might of Darth Sidious.

As Eeth stood back from the Sith, silently trying to refocus, he swung his blade up backwards, sensing an attack from Grievous, the cyborg bearing his full weight down on the hapless Jedi, the Master having to drop his second blade to grasp his own saber with both hands. The wound to his shoulder was sapping his strength and sending pain shooting through his arm, and fighting with his fellow's blade in hand was becoming a hindrance. Swiftly dodging out of the way, Koth backed away from the cyborg, blade raised as he fell back on the defensive Soresu. Grievous laughed loudly, recognizing that the Master was on his last leg, buying time to recenter and find a way to overcome the odds.

Kenobi whistled, the piercing sound getting the attention of the Jedi Master, the Zabrak's eyes falling on the Sith. "Come now, Jedi, you have no friends left. It's alright to let go." Koth pointed his weapon at Obi-Wan, the tip of the green blade wavering in his fatigue, and Kenobi smirked. "The Dark Side can give you the power you need to prevail, and _nobody_ will ever know! You can return to your seat on the Council and you will be a _hero_!"

" _Shut up_!" The Sith chuckled, the sinister chill making Koth shiver, and Kenobi could feel the Master centering himself, resisting the pull to the Dark Side that surrounded the Jedi like a torrent.

"It's alright," Kenobi soothed. "I feel it too..."

It was enough for Eeth Koth, and the Master once again engaged with the Sith Lord, his furious offense driven from a place within the Force that Kenobi hadn't seen since he left the Jedi. Koth was impressive, a worthy Jedi, and Obi-Wan had to center himself in the Dark Side, red blade moving so fast it left deep, red trails through the air as he parried and blocked each vicious strike and stab. He fell into the Dark Side, and the Force itself took over his movements, his saber moving without his direction to block the flurry from the Jedi Master, and with his attention focused, Obi-Wan reached out, channeling the Dark Side through his fingers, and grasped the Master around the neck. Koth was pulled back just as he tried to lunge forward, lifted into the air and dropping his green blade as his hands shot to his throat, clawing at the invisible force. The Zabrak struggled to breathe, but could bring no air into his burning lungs, his legs kicking as if the force of it could free him, but the Sith did not lose his focus.

Obi-Wan only let go when Grievous grabbed each of the Master's limbs in one of his four arms and slammed the man down on the ground, the hard earth splattering with blood as skin split under the weight of the cyborg. He held the Jedi up, and threw him down again, repeating until the Zabrak went limp, breathing slow and shallow as the Master was forced into unconsciousness. The Sith's blade retracted, and Kenobi clipped the weapon back on his belt. The sound of ships could be heard overhead, and they were drawing closer.

"Just in time," Kenobi muttered, looking around at the town square they stood in. The mob had dispersed, only a few straggling looters left behind to rob open storefronts and homes. The bodies of rioters and the Jedi lay scattered about the ground, blood splattered on the side of the building above one of the dead Knights, a pool of blood surrounding him that poured from the wound left by his missing arm. The female Knight lay in blood soaked dust, the wound up her body too wide and too deep to cauterize completely, and the Padawan had been trampled by the vicious mob. But the last Knight and the Master were alive.

Grievous laughed gleefully as he picked up the five sabers on the ground, looking them over and igniting them in turn, getting the feel for them in his clawed hands. Obi-Wan reached out with the Force and pulled the five sabers to him, Grievous reeling on him with a vicious, possessive snarl. "Those are _mine_ , Kenobi!"

"Yes, and those two Jedi are mine." The Sith pointed to the Master and the living Knight. "Pick them up and bring them to the ship. You'll have your sabers when your hands aren't full." Grievous glared at him as Sith clipped the sabers onto his belt. "...Grievous. I'm a man of my word. Come now, what use do I have for Jedi weapons?"

Obi-Wan felt when the cyborg accepted that, felt resignation and the beginnings of trust and respect in the other warrior, and Grievous picked up the two Jedi, quietly following behind Obi-Wan as they made their way to the hanger. The streets were nearly empty, so much different from the large, rioting mob that ran rampant through the streets when they arrived. They could hear cheering from the central plaza, large supply ships in the air above the tall government building, and Kenobi could see small transport hoverships delivering large crates of food and medical supplies. He could hear anti-Republic sentiments being shouted over large loudhailers mounted on the hulls of the ships, and Obi-Wan couldn't help but roll his eyes; this is what needed to be done, but the lack of subtlety was distasteful. Hopefully his Master would keep him from these noisy, uncivilized affairs in the future.

They passed by the armed guards in the hanger just as easily as when they arrived, and Kenobi and Grievous entered the sleek black ship, bringing the Jedi to the hold where they were carefully secured and imprisoned. Kenobi left for the cockpit, dropping into the pilot's seat and setting the coordinates for Serenno. He had just hit the hyperspace route when Grievous entered the control deck, carefully lowering himself into the copilot's seat.

"How did we do?" the cyborg asked, and Kenobi didn't even need to look at him to know he was pleased.

"Well enough...hardly perfect, but it will do." He smiled softly, thinking of the prize he had waiting in the hold. "The mission was successful, at the very least. By tomorrow, the Separatists will hold Kabal."

"Do you even care about that?"

"No, I don't." Kenobi could feel Grievous' eyes on him. He chose to ignore him.

"The Jedi called you Sith."

Obi-Wan nodded, leaning back in his chair and running his fingers through his hair. "You're right, he did."

"What is a Sith."

The young lord took a deep breath, holding it until his lungs burned, and exhaled slowly. "Think of the Sith," he said softly, "as the Jedi's natural predator."

Grievous seemed pleased by this. "You are Sith."

"I am."

"Can I be Sith?"

Obi-Wan shook his head. "Not without the Force. Not without the Dark Side." The cyborg growled next to him, his clawed hands tightly gripping the chair's armrests. "You leave so much as a scratch in my upholstery and I'll make you replace the entire interior of my ship." Grievous glared at him, but let go of the chair, tightly grasping his clawed hands together. "You don't need to be Sith to be a Jedi hunter. You can be something new. Something _different_. And that is far more dangerous."

Kenobi finally looked at his companion, his reptilian eyes glee ming with delight, and Obi-Wan closed his eyes in satisfaction. Above all else, Grievous was going to be a powerful ally as they moved forward. The warrior had gotten his first taste of Jedi blood, and the Sith could feel that it had become a hunger within the cyborg. His hatred for the Jedi burned just as bright as any Sith, and Kenobi wasn't going to let that go.


	9. Tipping Point

Five more Jedi were dead.

Qui-Gon and Anakin stood in the Council chamber, the entire room somber and silent, Eeth Koth's seat remaining empty, and Anakin couldn't keep his eyes off of it. None of them could. The exchange had not been worth it. They lost so much, and learned very little. The Negotiator was confirmed Sith, as they had expected, and he had traveled with a droid that was capable of lightsaber combat. Interviews could not be conducted. After all, Kabal had declared for the Separatists, and the Jedi dared not risk sending people there to question those who may have seen something. They were left to piece together what had happened through the little bits and pieces that had been recorded and uploaded to the holonet.

One thing was clear. The Negotiator didn't kill the Jedi. His droid did. Five dead Jedi, one of those a Master on the Council, and they were no closer to learning anything about the Negotiator. However, they were learning a bit about the Separatists, and the possible direction their droid armies were going. If it came to war, and the Separatists came with an army of droids like the one in the Negotiator's possession, than the Jedi Order was finished.

Anakin looked to his Master for comfort, but there was none to be had there. Qui-Gon was just as lost as he was, though the Master was openly grieving as well. This was much too close to what had happened six years ago, and Anakin knew his aging Master was suffering dearly. He inched closer to the taller man and gently took his hand in his own, sending what comfort he could to his friend and mentor, and Qui-Gon closed his eyes and softly smiled.

"Do you want to meditate with me after this is over, Master?" Qui-Gon couldn't help but choke back a strangled laugh, the Council members glaring at the Master as he straightened up and got a hold of himself. "What? I'm serious!"

"Since when has Anakin Skywalker _ever_ willingly meditated?"

"...yesterday?"

"That was a nap, Anakin."

"It was an _insightful_ nap."

The Master quietly hushed him. "This is serious, Anakin, it's hardly the place for joking."

"Well...do _you_ know what to do?"

"We wait for Luminara to get here."

Anakin huffed. "But what would _you_ do?"

Qui-Gon sighed, standing quietly for a moment and collecting his thoughts. "...I would avoid the Negotiator. He's too dangerous to engage. A Master of the High Council is dead."

"...but the Negotiator didn't kill him, Master. His droid did, and we can take a droid apart."

"Do you have something important to say, _Skywalker_?" Mace Windu snapped, and the Padawan scooted closer to Qui-Gon.

"N-no, Master..."

"Than I would advise _silence_."

"You aren't being fair, Mace," Qui-Gon said softly, and the Master's dark eyes narrowed at the towering Jedi. "Anakin has a right to his opinions, and he's ready to discuss out next course of action, as we all should be."

"Five Jedi are _dead_ , Qui-Gon."

"And when _my student_ died, the Council wasted no time in going after Dooku." Mace got to his feet, fury on his face, and Qui-Gon held his hand up. "I _understand_ that this is personal now. Eeth Koth was your friend, and you _all_ were close to him, but we don't have the time to grieve right now. We _will_ , but right now, at this moment, we have a job to do." The Masters began whispering, silently nodding, and their opinion was clear; Qui-Gon was right.

Windu sat back down, eying the Master and his Padawan carefully. "Very well. You have an idea, Qui-Gon."

"No." He pushed Anakin forward. "He does."

The young Skywalker could feel the weight of the Masters' appraising gaze, and he blushed deeply. He didn't do well being put on the spot like this. He'd rather get into a lightsaber fight with the Council than talk to them. At least he wouldn't make a complete fool of himself then, he'd be expected to lose. Presenting a good idea was something totally different.

"M-masters, I..." He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself, and Skywalker felt his Master's warm, comforting presence in his mind. He could do this. "The Negotiator, from what we can tell, didn't kill the Jedi. His droid did."

"That makes him _responsible_ ," Mace growled.

"I didn't say it _doesn't_ make him responsible, Master Windu," Anakin said quietly, cowed slightly, but he wouldn't stop now. "The Negotiator is a killer, but there's no blood on his hands, at least as far as we can tell. He's using a droid to kill for him. So...we _did_ learn something about him, didn't we?"

The Council erupted in whispered discussion, the Masters quietly driven to action by the young Skywalker, and Anakin was beaming. His Master's heavy hand gripped his shoulder. "Well done, Padawan."

"Do you think so?"

Qui-Gon nodded. "I needed someone to prompt me into action as well after the last time. This is too personal for them. They're going to need to rely on the likes of us to help them as they let go."

"Even Master Yoda?"

Qui-Gon looked at the tiny Master, his eyes closed, his face relaxed, silent since this whole ordeal began. "Master Yoda is in a league of his own. A life as long as his gives him focus and perspective that us humans can't even imagine."

"This is highly unusual for a Sith," Master Plo Koon said, his muffled voice deep and commanding behind his respirator. "I feel this is a weakness we can exploit. Your Master has said you have a talent for mechanics, Skywalker."

Anakin's chest puffed in pride. He may have been struggling to be a Jedi, but he had always felt one with ships, droids, and machines. "I'm quite good, yes."

"Watch your pride, Skywalker," Mace warned, his voice a low growl, and the Padawan faced him.

"It isn't pride, Master Windu, it's _confidence_. I _am_ that good. I may not have your combat skills, or Master Yoda's skill with the Force, but I dare you to find a better pilot in the entire Jedi Order." The Masters were silent, each of them looking at the upstart Padawan, and Anakin suddenly felt himself flush deeply, creeping back to stand beside his Master, bright blue eyes starring at the floor. "I-I apologize, Masters...I-I'll strive to be more humble in the future..."

Plo Koon wasn't phased by the Padawan's outburst. He was a learner, after all, he wasn't supposed to be perfect. His Ahsoka struggled with overconfidence as well. "Can we do anything about this droid?"

"W-well, yes..." He cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure, reassured by his Master's presence. "Even with the best programming, a droid is still a droid. We just need to know how the Negotiator is controlling the thing, and we should be able to disable it easily."

"It's not a droid." All eyes fell on Master Luminara Unduli as she entered the chamber, her Padawan following silently behind her, head bowed and fine featured face streaked with tears, and Anakin felt his heart go out to his friend. Luminara stood next to Qui-Gon in the center of the room, bowing deeply. "I'm deeply sorry for our loss, Masters. These Jedi, like the Jedi before them, will not be forgotten."

The Masters all bowed their heads, except for Master Plo. His filtered eyes looked straight at the Mirialan Master. "It's not a droid?"

"No." She took out a datapad and flicked it open, the holographic image of the droid that served the Negotiator displayed in the air before them. "Meet Grievous, the cyborg commander of the Collections and Security Division of the InterGalactic Banking Clan."

"A _cyborg_..." Anakin felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him. "That's...not the same as a droid."

"No, it isn't."

"The _Banking Clan_?" Mace was putting so much weight on his hands, it appeared if he'd stand, but he stayed barely seated, hovering just above his chair. "Luminara, if the Banking Clan is aligned with the Separatists-"

"I understand the implications, Master Windu. The Senate has reached out to Chairman Hill, but we have yet to hear back from him on the matter. I will, as always, keep the Council informed on the Senate's proceedings."

The Masters were silent, each of them contemplating the potential disaster of a Separatist cause supported by the financial might of the galaxy's bankers. Qui-Gon frowned, looking at Luminara and feeling her disturbed. "Is there anything else?" he asked gently, and the woman nodded.

"Mandalore has excused themselves from all future dealings with the Republic."

The Masters were silent, and Anakin could feel their distress. He tugged on Qui-Gon's sleeve. "Master, is that bad?"

"Very bad, Anakin."

"Why? Mandalore isn't even part of the Republic."

Qui-Gon sighed. "No, it isn't, but Duchess Satine has been a voice of peace and reason since the Separatist Crisis began. With her gone-"

"Without her support and her continuous effort," Luminara continued, "all hope of peace and reasonable discussion has ended. Even worse, she took nearly a thousand systems with her."

"A thousand systems..." Mace said quietly, leaning back in his chair and shoulders dropping. Anakin had never seen the proud Jedi Master look so defeated.

"All of them are staunch supporters of the Republic, but they oppose this conflict, and the Duchess has created an alliance of systems that wish to remain out of war, if it comes to it."

"If even she believes that it will come to war..." Mace huffed, crossing his arms. "We need her here if we want a hope for peace, the negotiations must continue. Qui-Gon, you know the girl."

"I did," the Master said softly. "A long time ago."

"We can send you and your Padawan to talk to her, see if she can see reason and her importance-"

"Mandalore has closed its ports to Republic and Separatist delegations," Luminara cut in. "Chancellor Palpatine has already reached out to her to ask for a meeting to discuss her position, and she has refused."

"Oh, _perfect_." Mace's dark eyes drifted to Eeth Koth's empty seat. By the time this was over, there would be many more dead Jedi. "...we need to elect a new Council member." The room was silent before, but now, it was deafening, the grief of the Masters drowning out even the comfort of the Force. "We need to discuss names to put forward for the position...I take it neither of you are willing to step forward."

"I must decline," Luminara said quickly. "I have my Padawan to tend to, and I intend to continue my work with the Senate and, if it comes to it, I want to engage the Sith."

Anakin gasped, bright blue eyes focused on Qui-Gon. "Master, this is your chance," he whispered. "You can _finally_ be on the Council!"

He felt his Padawan looking at him with admiration, the Masters all apprehensive, and Qui-Gon sighed, shaking his head. "I can't. I do not follow the Code well enough to deserve the place."

"Master," Anakin hissed. "You _should_ be on the Council! Even your last Padawan thought you should sit here!"

"Obi-Wan wasn't right about everything, Anakin. I'm sorry, Masters. I can't. I would be happy to put forward a list of names of those I feel would be worthy candidates."

"That would be greatly appreciated," Mace groaned, covering his face with his hand. "Now, if that is all the bad news you have, Luminara..."

"It isn't." The frustrated cry of Mace Windu echoed the sentiment of the other Masters, but Luminara was not deterred. "A situation has developed on Antar 4. A fringe terrorist group has set off bombs in the Antarian Ranger chapterhouses across the moon."

The Council erupted into chaos, and Anakin stood close to his Master. The Jedi were furious and afraid, and Anakin didn't know what to make of it. Even stoic Qui-Gon was tense. "Master..."

"The Antarian Rangers are Jedi allies, they exist solely to support us." Anakin bit his lip, the weight of it sinking in. This wasn't just an attack on the Republic, this was an indirect attack on the Jedi Order.

"When did this happen?!" Mace snarled, and Luminara crossed her arms, face stoic, and Anakin couldn't help but feel that the calm, collected Jedi Master should have been on the Council after all.

"Not an hour ago. I came here as soon as I heard."

"And you didn't think to tell us _immediately_?!"

"Master Windu." Her voice was cold, harsh, straining to contain her own frustration. "The Council had other matters to discuss that were just as important. The events on Antar 4 would end our session _immediately_ , as is happening now."

The Master was furious. He rose from his seat and strode over to stand before Luminara, towering over her and entire being filled with rage, when Master Yoda softly said, "Right, Luminara is. Control your temper you must, Master Windu." With a growl, Mace submitted to Yoda's wisdom, throwing himself back into his seat and crossing his arms tightly across his chest. Slowly, the other Masters began to calm, taking their seats, but fidgeting uncomfortably.

"Thank you, Master Yoda," the Mirialan said softly when the room became silent. Yoda nodded, his little three fingered hand gesturing for her to continue. "The terrorists have used the chaos that ensued to issue an Article of Secession."

"Separatists, these people are, but loyal to the Republic, Antar 4 is."

"Yes, Master. This is clearly orchestrated by the Separatists. I'm wondering if the Negotiator had a hand in this. Violence worked out very well for him on Kabal. He may be trying something new."

"He's trying to force our hand," Qui-Gon said softly, and the Masters all looked to him. "We had every advantage on Kabal, and he completely destroyed us. If this is his work, than attacking the Antarian Rangers was meant to bring us to him. The Jedi must get involved if our allies are attacked."

"Matters not, if the Negotiator this is," Yoda said softly. "More Jedi, we must not lose."

"We can't do _nothing_!" Mace growled, and was silenced when Yoda held up his hand.

"Said that, I did not. Jedi, we will send, but in great force."

Mace nodded. "I agree. We must reestablish order." Two of the Masters stood, Saesee Tiin and the newly elected Coleman Trebor, and both came to stand in the center of the room beside Qui-Gon.

"We'll lead our forces on Antar 4," Master Tiin softly growled, and Windu nodded, pressing his fingers together and trying to focus.

"We have... _much_ to discuss. Master Unduli, Master Jinn, we thank you for your presence and your opinions. They are always valuable. If you would excuse us, we need to plan for the fight on Antar 4. We have many variables to account for, and not enough time to do it."

The two Masters bowed, Anakin following suit, and he could see silent tears dropping from Barriss' face. "My the Force be with you, Masters," Qui-Gon said softly.

"May the Force be with us all..."

* * *

 

"Ixian, wake up!"

The knight groaned, a deep pounding in his head, and he opened his eyes to find darkness. "Master, I can't see..."

"Give your eyes a moment to adjust. It's dark, but not that dark."

The Knight breathed deeply, calling on the Force to clear the pain in his head, and his eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light in the cell. Both he and the Master were suspended in a stasis field, their hands and feet cuffed to the top and bottom of the frame that was generating the field. They were trapped, and there was nothing around that they could manipulate with the Force. The cell was clearly designed to hold Force users.

"How long-"

"I don't know. I just woke up myself." Master Koth's eyes slowly roamed around the cell, the glow of the mechanism that held him giving him enough light to see that the room contained nothing of use.

"What could a droid want with us?"

"It isn't the droid. It's the Negotiator."

Ixian's eyes closed as memories from Kabal came back to him slowly. "The others..."

"They're dead." The Knight's head dropped, and his shoulders began to shake. "Hey, _hey_! You are a _Jedi_ and you will not succumb to grief, not now, not when there's a job to do. They are dead, but we are still alive, and if we're not focused, we're going to be dead too."

"Oh, don't be _ridiculous_." Master Koth shivered, the voice crisp and accented and colder than the room they were in. The cell door swung open and the man walked in, the Jedi Knight glaring viciously, but the Master would have fallen to the ground were he not suspended. "I never planned on killing you. The deaths of your companions was... _unfortunate_."

"You don't scare us, _Sith_!"

" _Sith_ ," the man purred, mocking the Jedi and smirking as the Knight fumed.

"I knew I recognized your voice..."

Ixian looked to the Master, his anger forgotten, and the Sith Lord's laugh echoed in the cell. "You know him, Master?"

"I know him. I _knew_ him," The Zabrak swallowed, trying to wet his dry throat, but it didn't help. "Obi-Wan Kenobi..."

The Sith bowed, yellow eyes glowing wickedly in the low light. "So glad you remember me, Master Koth. I certainly remember _you_."

"Obi-Wan?" Ixian looked to the Master. "Obi-Wan Kenobi is _dead_ , Master, that can't be Obi-Wan!"

"Master Koth, tell your Knight to shut up. I didn't bring him here to listen to him."

Ixian snarled. "I will _not_ submit to you, Sith!" His eyes were narrowed dangerously, but the anger was replaced by fear when the Sith grinned.

"That's what I'm counting on, sweetheart!" He smirked wickedly, his golden eyes watching the Master as he struggled to regain his balance in the Force. "Now, Eeth, I want you to watch this. Breaking you is going to be difficult. After all, you _are_ a Jedi Master, but breaking this Knight?" Kenobi laughed. "This is going to be a _pleasure_."

" _Why are you doing this_?!" The Zabrak strained against the force that held him, struggling as best as he could, but to no avail. "Obi-Wan, _why_! You were the best of us! You wanted to _destroy_ the Sith! What happened to you?!"

Kenobi laughed. "Do you think I'm stupid enough to just tell you everything you want to know? Master Eeth, if I have learned anything from the Jedi, it's that talking to members of the High Council is _pointless_."

"Please, we can see eye to eye, Obi-Wan, we can _talk_ about this! You're the Negotiator, aren't you?"

"I am."

"Than talking is what you do! _Please_!"

"Master, that isn't Obi-Wan, that's a _Sith_! There is no reasoning with it!"

Kenobi smirked. "Would you like to see what I do, Master Koth?" He extended his hand, fingers splayed, toward the Knight and he brought the weight of the Dark Side down on him. The Knight shut his mouth, jaw clenched and eyes wide as he felt the Sith's presence around him. "Are you trying to keep me out, Jedi?" the Sith purred, and Ixian shook with effort, his brow knit in concentration as he strengthened his mental defenses. "Good. I want you to. Go on, Jedi, build your resistance, get used to this pressure. Center yourself in the Force."

"Obi-Wan, _stop it_!"

"Stop what, Master Koth?" The Sith smiled wickedly. "I'm _helping_ him. After all, isn't this part of a Jedi's training? Strong mental defenses, resisting the Dark Side? You should be _thanking me_. Go on, thank me, Jedi." The Knight glared defiantly, shaking slightly and sweating from the effort. "That's alright, sweetheart, you will."

"Let us go..." The Master's voice was low, even, the weight of the Force behind his words in his desperation, and the golden eyes fell on him, wide in disbelief.

"Did you...did you just try to _mind trick_ me? _Me_?!" The Sith laughed, cold and harsh, and his grip on the Knight was released, the shaking Jedi breathing fast and deep, his energy drained from the effort of keeping Kenobi out of his mind. "Oh, _Master Koth_! You sweet, _beautiful_ Jedi!" He smiled, drawing close to the horned man. "Shall I show you how it's done?" the Sith purred, his sinister yellow eyes drifting to the Knight.

"No, Obi-Wan, please, don't touch him!"

"I'm not going to _touch_ him." Kenobi held up his hand toward the Knight, and feeling the Jedi tense as he prodded at his mental walls. Breathing deep, the Sith grabbed hold of the Jedi's defenses and applied the pressure of the Dark Side until he felt the defenses shatter. Grinning wickedly, the Sith plunged into the Jedi's mind, and Ixian _screamed_ , a bloodcurdling, agonized sound made only worse as it echoed around the cold walls of the cell. He didn't want the Jedi's memories, but they flooded into his mind all the same. From youngling to Knight, all Jedi shared more or less the same life. It was drab, dull, _sparse_ , and it disgusted the Sith.

"When did it happen?" Kenobi let go of the Jedi's mind, his body falling slack in his restraints, and he looked at the Master, the Zabrak's eyes focused on the floor. "When did you betray the Jedi?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes."

Kenobi rolled his eyes. "I told you, I'm not interested in sharing things with you. I don't owe you an explanation." He smirked, looking at the Jedi Knight as he struggled to rebuild his mental walls, but the task was proving to be difficult. "That's right, Jedi, _fight_. Resist the Sith, you can do it!" he chuckled softly as Ixian struggled, his hazy, unfocused eyes tired. "Let me explain what's going to happen here," Kenobi purred, leaning in towards the Master. "Your Knight here is going to rebuild his walls, and I will break them again, and he will suffer _unspeakable_ agony. Resisting me when I enter his mind results in agonizing pain. _Or_ ," the Sith said, smiling warmly at the Zabrak, "your Knight _won't_ rebuild his walls. They will stay broken, and when I touch his mind again, he will _invite_ me in, accept that everything within him is _mine_."

"He is a Jedi Knight," Koth snarled, his eyes narrowing in anger. "He will never submit to you, _Sith_!"

"The way you say that makes it sound like being Sith is a _bad_ thing. Really, I'm hurt."

"Obi-Wan Kenobi _did_ die all those years ago, you aren't him!"

"Oh, don't be _stupid_." The Sith was angry now, his golden eyes blazing. "Obi-Wan Kenobi didn't die, he _grew up_. I understood the foolishness of the Jedi, I understood the weakness, the waste, the _corruption_ that your filth have infected the galaxy with! And so help me, I will bring order and balance back to your precious Republic."

"There can be no balance in the Dark Side!"

"How _wrong_ you are. The Dark Side balanced me, centered me in the Force, caught me when I was falling, and I _embraced_ it. I won't turn away from that which makes me stronger!" He looked at the Zabrak Master and Kenobi's face relaxed, laughing easily. "Oh, look at that, you got me talking. Good, good, well done, Master Koth." The Sith turned furious yellow eyes onto the broken Jedi. "Come now, Knight Ixian, be a good boy and rebuild your walls again."

"Y-yes, Master..."

Kenobi grinned at the Zabrak. "There, see? Shall I make him say it again?" The Master said nothing. He just looked at his fellow Jedi, his body limp and his eyes distant, and Kenobi grinned as he watched the Master's heart break. "Tch, you're no fun. Honestly, you Jedi are all so... _somber_. I can't imagine why." The Sith reached out, dove into the Jedi's mind again, and Ixian shuddered in pain, but not for long. His resistance was shattered, broken by Kenobi's first violent entry, and there was no rebuilding it. All he could do was silently submit to the Sith in his mind, groaning softly as the intense pain was soothed away by the dark presence within him.

"Are you watching, Master Koth?" Kenobi growled, his voice cold and harsh, and the Jedi Master looked away. "It's so much easier to just let me in. Even your young friend understands that now, don't you?"

Eeth Koth shivered as Ixian purred, calling the Sith Lord Master in a voice that was distant and not his own. "He will recover from this, he is a Jedi Knight."

"I expect him to." Kenobi laughed, stroking the broken man's cheek, and the Jedi leaned into it. "If he _doesn't_ , he's useless to me. I can't practice on a _slave_ , they submit too easily."

"The Jedi will stop you." Koth glared at the Sith, his voice quiet but defiant, and Obi-Wan just smirked. "They will come looking for us, they-"

"They believe you dead, just as they believed I was dead. Did you ever go searching for me?"

"This is completely different! The bodies on Serenno were mutilated beyond all recognition, we had thought-"

" _Your_ bodies were lost in a riot on a now Separatist planet. They will never recover anything of your dead."

"The Jedi will learn about you! Think about your old Master, what will this do to him when he learns the truth!"

Kenobi growled, instinctive rage burning in his yellow eyes. " _Don't_ you speak to me about Qui-Gon Jinn. Do you think to sway me with mentions of _him_?" His comlink began beeping, and Kenobi nearly threw the thing against a wall. He took a deep breath, calmed his racing heartbeat, took hold of the fury within him and lulled the raging flames into quiet, burning embers. He held up his finger to the Master and turned away from him to take the call. The hologram of Darth Sidious appeared before him, and the Sith Lord bowed his head.

"There is a situation on Antar 4," the Master drawled.

"There's a situation in my dungeon. I'm breaking Jedi."

The Master's eyes seemed to glint even over the hologram. " _Good_ ," he purred and Kenobi shivered in pleasure, his Master's satisfaction reaching him through the power of the Dark Side. "Are you there now?"

"Yes, Master."

Sidious nodded. "You can return to your studies after you deal with the situation on Antar 4. I will send the mission report to your ship."

"Can I bring help?"

Sidious frowned. "Keep Grievous out of it. He is a fine tool that I would not waste. Bring me Antar 4, and do it subtly."

"As you wish, my Master." The hologram cut, and Kenobi smoothed his hair as he turned to the captive Jedi. "I encourage an escape attempt, but I don't recommend it. Dooku _is_ hanging around here somewhere, and he isn't as nice as I am."

"You were a Knight with the Jedi." The Zabrak Master smirked when the Sith frowned. "How does it feel to be slave to a Sith Master?"

"It's _amazing_ ," Kenobi purred, and the Jedi's smirk dropped away from his face. "Didn't I say I wasn't ready for Knighthood? My new Master agreed. He's taught me _so much_. And shall I tell you a secret?" He leaned in close to the Master, and the Zabrak unsuccessfully tried to wriggle away from him. "It always felt peaceful being a Jedi. It's easy to be calm when you feel nothing. But my Master taught me _pleasure_. As much of it as I want, all at my fingertips through the power of the Dark Side. You just have to _want it_." The Jedi said nothing. "And besides, as a Jedi, there would always be _many_ Masters above me. As a Sith, there is only one. My Master is wise, _powerful_. He deserves my loyalty like the Jedi never did."

"Loyalty from a Sith?"

"I'm not like the others. Now!" Kenobi clapped his hands. "I have a job to do, as do you. Fix your Jedi. I may have broken his mind, but you are a _Master_. You can repair him." The Sith grinned wickedly. "Memorize the way he looks, Eeth Koth, because when I return, I'm going to do the same to _you_. And you will thank me for it, just as he will. Go on, _Jedi_ , thank me for this."

The knight looked up, his eyes vacant. "Thank you, Master..."

Kenobi smirked and left the cell, ignoring the glare of the Jedi Master as he shut and locked the cell door. He quickly made his way through the dark, narrow halls of the dungeon, MagnaGuard droids patrolling the halls and allowing him to pass unhindered, and the Sith grinned. Dooku had reprogrammed them.

He followed the muffled sounds of outraged howls and screeches, rage and pain and fury hanging in the air like an oppressive haze, and Obi-Wan breathed in deeply, loving every moment of it. He entered through a large, heavy door to a spacious training room to find Dooku, red blade drawn and standing relaxed, his free hand tucked behind his back and glaring disdainfully at the panting, raging Ventress, two red blades gripped in her hands.

"Things are going well then?"

Dooku snarled. " _Hardly_. She is _useless_. Filled with rage, but it is unfocused, random, unrefined."

"Aw, I think she's doing _fine_!" Kenobi stalked behind the panting, furious woman, her pale eyes following him suspiciously, and she shivered when he brushed her he shoulder with his long fingers. " _Relax_ , sweetheart," he purred in her ear, and she closed her eyes, gasping softly, his breath warm against her cold skin. "He's just an old man. Rage makes you strong, but not if it rules you."

She nodded, breathing deeply as she felt the strength of the Dark Side that surrounded the Sith behind her like a storm. Once again, she tore after Dooku, blades arching gracefully, and Kenobi sat back to watch the woman fight. It didn't last long, though, as Ventress soon found herself disarmed, the Count's red blade slashing across the woman's neck and chest, the pale skinned woman howling in pain and fury.

"You are not improving fast enough," Dooku drawled, circling around his apprentice, and the woman hung her head.

"She's just tired," Kenobi drawled, standing up and brushing himself off. "I can take her off your hands, if you like. Our Master is sending me on a mission, I'd love to have her along."

Dooke glared at the younger Sith. " _What mission_."

"Antar 4. I haven't read the objective yet."

Dooku grinned, his eyes glinting, and Kenobi frowned. The Count knew something he didn't. "I don't claim to know what our Master wants, but Antar 4 was attacked this morning. The Jedi will almost certainly be dispatched."

"Oh, perfect, Ventress can prove herself on the field." Obi-Wan grinned. "Wanna come, Asajj?"

"Anything to get out of here..." Kenobi offered her his hand, and the two Dark Siders left the training hall for Antar 4.


	10. Antar 4

"You can't let him get to you, Asajj."

"It's not like I _let_ him, Kenobi, he just _does._ "

"Right, because you allow it." Ventress' pale eyes fell on her companion in the pilot's seat. She was getting exasperated talking to the famed Negotiator, a man well known for being able to talk circles around people until he got exactly what he wanted. "Look, Dooku is a grumpy old man that's bitter and angry because he found real power too late and he's getting too old to really use it. He's going to take it out on you because you're young, athletic, dripping in the Dark Side and not at all horrible to look at."

"Well, _thanks_. The same can't be said for you."

"No? My lover seems to think differently."

"Oh, really? Perhaps you should bring _her_ with you on your next suicide mission."

Kenobi groaned. "For the last time, it's _not_ a suicide mission. And you agreed to be here, so stop complaining before I throw you out the airlock."

"Aren't you supposed to be reading the mission briefing..."

"I already did." Kenobi smiled brightly at his Dathomirian companion, and she rolled her eyes. "Antar 4 is an important location for both the Republic and the Separatists. The native Gotals are... _unique_. They are greatly in tune with electromagnetic waves, which makes them natural empaths."

"Right..."

"No, really, they can pick up electrical impulses from a person's _brain_."

"Are they Force sensitive?"

Kenobi shrugged. "Some. Less than you Dathomirians, more than the Neimoidans. They're not exceptional on that count, but they do make great diplomats and mechanics." Kenobi looked his companion over. "You're distracting me. The point is, everyone wants the Gotal, the Separatists for their stellar work on droids and other mechanics, and the Republic for their diplomatic abilities. The Senate is getting desperate since their local peacekeeper left."

"And we're supposed to..."

"Accept them into the Separatist Alliance. A few of them blew up some Jedi military allies, and they have declared for the Separatists. We're there to establish a presence."

Ventress frowned. "Isn't this the sort of thing Count Dooku should be doing?"

"Not when there are tempers flaring. It's likely the Jedi will be present to oust the Separatists."

"So we'll kill them and I can prove myself!"

Kenobi whistled. "Easy there, my dear, don't get too excited. Let's just see how the situation plays out, hmm?" Ventress was not impressed. Obi-Wan took her hand, swiftly kissing it and smirking when the woman's pale eyes narrowed with disgust. "There's a reason my Master sends me on these missions. If I were a coward, I'd make no progress, if I were a fool, I'd be dead. I am neither of those things, which is why I am _here_. Understand?"

"You're full of yourself," she snarled, ripping her hand away and crossing her arms.

"I'm _confident_ , my dear, that's _different_."

They had not known each other long, but Obi-Wan Kenobi and Asajj Ventress liked each other a great deal, much to Dooku's displeasure, which was part of the reason they were so committed to friendship, though they would never, ever admit it, even to each other.

To Ventress, Kenobi was a stabilizing factor. He was... _safe_. A powerful Sith Lord, more powerful than the one that took her in, he was fire and fury and passion, wild and unrelenting. Unlike Dooku, who was cold and distant, his decades of Jedi Mastership giving him unparalleled control over the Dark Side, Kenobi reveled in the wildness of it, the whims of passion that drove him to embrace darkness in each and every moment of his life. He was young, his training as a Jedi giving him enough focus to control it, but not enough to break it. The Dark Side thrived in the young Obi-Wan and it made the Sith Lord dangerous and cruel, but like fire itself, could also be warm and comforting when contained. In the Sith Lord Darth Lumis, Ventress had found herself a friend that she was certain would never, ever die.

To Kenobi, Ventress was a project. A powerful Force sensitive that had grown angry and wrathful by the unfairness that life had dealt her, Asajj was fury and rage in its purest form, a tempest that could not be controlled or contained, not even by herself. In her, Obi-Wan saw his younger self, a Jedi Padawan left alone in the bitter chill of the Force with nobody to guide him safely through it, and while she did have the mentorship in the form of Dooku, he was like the Jedi Council, cold and unfeeling, and the bitter rage of Asajj would only continue to grow under his dispassionate eye. The fires of the Dark Side raged, and to those who lacked the focus of control, they would burn, the flames raging until there was nothing left but ash. Ventress needed a teacher; someone who could teach her to dance with the flames instead of being consumed by them. Sidious did it for Kenobi, and Obi-Wan would do it for Ventress. Like his own Master, Darth Lumis hated to see art go to waste, and Asajj Ventress was _art._

"What are you doing tonight?" Kenobi drawled, laying back in his seat as the hyperdrive engaged. "I mean, if we survive the mission."

"More training, I suspect. Dooku says my form is... _sloppy_."

"It is."

Ventress glared. " _Thank you_ for your opinion, Lord Lumis."

Kenobi grinned. "Please, I prefer be called Master."

Ventress smirked, her elegant eyebrow arching high. "Oh, do you? Do you make your lover call you that, _Master..._ "

"Sweetheart, _please_ , she calls me that all on her own."

"What about my form is sloppy!"

Obi-Wan sighed. "If you promise not to touch your saber to the walls, we'll go practice in the hold. I _just_ got the carbon scoring out from the last time." Ventress jumped out of her seat and rushed off, leaving Obi-Wan to lazily flick on the autopilot and stroll down to the hold. Ventress was already there, spinning her blades elegantly in her hands.

"So what am I doing wrong?"

Kenobi shrugged.. "Nothing."

"... _nothing_."

"Nothing." Ventress gripped her blades tighter, her jaw clenched in frustration. "That, right there. That's what you're doing wrong."

" _I'm not doing anything_!"

"Sweetheart, you're _so tense_! When you're relaxed, you do fine, but Dooku brings out the worst in you."

"He says I have to embrace my anger!"

"And he's right, you do. Your rage is a weapon, but if you give a blaster to a child, you can't expect him to hit his mark. You need control, _focus_ , or you're nothing. The Dark Side preys on the weakness of others, and fury without focus is a weakness."

Ventress retracted her blades. The Sith Lord wasn't drawing his weapon, and it was becoming clear that the lesson she needed to learn had nothing to do with lightsabers. "So what do I do?"

Kenobi shrugged. "Want to watch a holovid?"

Ventress stared deadpan at the Sith Lord. "A holovid."

"The Dark Side is more than just pain and anger, sweetness. The Code doesn't even say anything about it. Dzwol shâsotkun. Shâsotjontû châtsatul nu tyûk. There is only passion. Through passion, I gain strength. Passion is anger, yes, and pain, but it is also happiness and sorrow and pleasure, deep and unrelenting." Ventress slowly nodded, her intelligent, pale eyes slowly brightening with understanding. "You know the Way of the Jedi, Asajj. They talk about the balance of the Force, but there is balance in the Dark Side as well."

"So thriving on pain and anger is leaving me unbalanced?"

"Yes."

Ventress smiled, drawing closer to the Sith Lord, running her long fingers down his chest. "Kenobi..."

"Hmm?"

"You are a _sentimental idiot_!"

Kenobi smirked, drawing his weapon with lightning speed and slashing up at Ventress, the woman deftly back flipping out of the way, her twin sabers igniting before she landed. "Relaxed, sweetheart?"

"More than you, Kenobi."

"We shall see."

The Nightsister launched herself at the Sith, and he blocked her easily, using the Force to throw her out of the way as he sidestepped her strike. They relaxed into an easy sparring pattern, Ventress on a casual assault while the Sith Lord lazily defended, both Dark Siders smiling and laughing as they slashed and blocked and dodged. Occasionally, Kenobi would lightly bring the tip of his weapon to touch her pale skin, the woman hissing more in irritation than pain, and the Sith Lord would gently correct her error, only to return to their sparring. As they went, they slowly sped up, the Sith Lord increasing the pace as he felt Asajj relax, until their sabers were blazing through the air, nearly too fast to see.

Ventress was _good_. Very good when she relaxed into the embrace of the Dark Side instead of allowing it to consume her. Dooku would ruin this fine creature in the typical fashion of the Sith; he'd use the tool to meet his ends just so long as it served his purpose, and when her use to him ended, she would be cast aside. Alternatively, Dooku could become too ambitious, and Darth Sidious could command her disposal, and were it to come to that...

Dooku would do it to save himself, of this, Obi-Wan had no doubt. But were Sidious to command his faithful Darth Lumis to do it...

He could talk himself out of nearly every situation, and his Master was not without reason. He could convince him she was a greater ally than a threat.

Ventress swung wide, and Kenobi's sharp yellow eyes caught, for a fraction of an instant, the slight misstep the Nightsister had taken, and he thrust his saber down to touch the back of her leg, the woman hissing in irritation. Smirking confidently, the Sith Lord reached out in her moment of lost focus and called her lightsabers to his hand, the weapons shutting off as he caught them.

"I win. _Again_."

"You always win, you don't need to say it _every time_."

"Tch. How else are you going to know I won?"

Ventress snatched her weapons from his loose grasp and thrust them back to their place on her hip. "You're insufferable."

"I'm a Lord of the Sith! Show some respect!" He reached out with the Force and moved a couch tucked away in the corner to the center of the room, lowering a screen with his other hand. "I won, sweetie, so we're watching a holovid. We're about to go kill Jedi, I need to unwind."

Ventress ran her hand over her smooth head, wiping the sweat away and dropping on to the couch. The Sith Lord sat on the other end, his long legs crossed and his head resting on his hand as he leaned on the armrest. The Dathomirian scooted closer to him, settling in the crook between his arm and his chest, and the Sith's long, lazy fingers absently stroked up and down her arm as the holovid began. Ventress sighed deeply, relaxing into the Lord. She was safe here, in all ways. Kenobi had a singular, obsessive interest in his Mandalorian, which left little confusion in their relationship. They flirted shamelessly, were physically affectionate very often, and it stopped at that, and Asajj couldn't be more pleased. She had been too abused in her life as it was to have her one friendship complicated by confusing emotions.

"Kenobi."

"Shh...this is my favorite part..."

Ventress looked at the screen. She hadn't been paying attention, so the scene may have been lost on her, but it just seemed like some overly dramatic garbage. Some trash with a crying Twi'lek and a strong, stoic Chagrian. "... _this_ is your favorite? Nobody's dying. You're a Lord of the Sith, Kenobi, have some dignity..."

He rolled his eyes. "Ventress, sweetie, I'm not the Sith of Old. There is reason and purpose when I kill. I'm not some mindless beast."

"You have the heart of a poet. I bet it makes your Master _sick_."

"I bet my combat skills don't disappoint _my_ Master."

Ventress glowered, hitting the smirking Sith in the chest. "Is this what you and your lover do? Sit around and watch this emotional garbage?"

"Don't be foolish, we don't have time for things like this. We see each other so infrequently, we have to carefully manage what time we do have."

"You talk over the comlink all the time."

"It's not the same."

"What _do_ you two do then?" Her pale eyes looked up into the Sith Lord's handsome face, and she bit her lip, understanding and petulant. He didn't need to say anything; the hunger and possessive desire burning in those glowing yellow eyes said it all.

"I'll have to make a trip to see her after this mission..." he growled quietly, pulling Ventress closer to him. "It has been too long."

"Don't get any ideas..."

"What, with you?" Kenobi chuckled deeply, and the Nightsister wriggled against him, growling in irritation. "Don't be ridiculous. Satine is mine. I don't need to complicate it by adding another."

" _Yours_? What, do you own her?"

"Yes." He breathed deeply, shutting his eyes. "Satine is mine. She has _always_ been mine. Do you have a problem with that?"

"Not in the least." Ventress fall back against his chest. "I pity the idiot that comes between the Lord of the Sith and his things."

"As you should." Kenobi frowned, feeling the ships engines quiet as the hyperdrive disengage and he groaned, pausing the holovid. "We'll have to finish this on the way back, we've arrived. Come on."

The two walked together to the cockpit, Kenobi sliding into the pilot's seat and Ventress hanging over his shoulder, looking out the viewport as they approached the moon of Antar 4. Both of their faces went from smug satisfaction, to confusion, and then to shock as they drew closer. In orbit around the moon were hundreds of ships, mostly small Consular-class cruisers of different makes and models, all marked with different symbols that Kenobi recognized as belonging to the various chapters of the Antarian Rangers. But most distressing was the large, single ship that seemed to dwarf the moon. The Venator-class star destroyer was a Republic battleship built in response to the increasingly violent nature of the Separatist crisis. Kenobi had heard about it, but it was the first time he had ever actually seen one. He kept his own ship at a safe distance and quietly activated the stealth system.

"Oh, immortal gods of the Sith..."

"What. Is. _That_ ," Ventress intoned, pointing to the colossal ship that hung above the moon.

"They brought a _battleship_ ," Kenobi said softly. He was truly in awe. How many soldiers could fit on such a massive ship? How many Jedi had come on it? "There are hundreds of ship here, this is an invasion."

"How can it be an invasion, Antar 4 is a Republic world."

"They _were_ a Republic world. As of this morning, they are Separatist, remember?"

"Who do the little ships belong to?"

"They look like the Antarian Rangers, they'll be here looking to take revenge for the bombings, and _that_ ," he pointed to the star destroyer, "carried Jedi here to aid them."

"...how many Jedi?"

"More than you and I can handle." He took a deep breath, looking out at the fleet that stood before them and the moon of Antar 4. "You were right. This is a suicide mission."

"...Obi-Wan. What do we do?"

The Sith Lord looked at his companion, and she was afraid. Terribly so. He closed his eyes and reached into the Dark Side for guidance. The Force often spoke to him, guided his every action, and it was guiding him now. Visions flashed through his mind, too fast for him to see, but he could feel the emotions they invoked. Fear, pain, chaos as the Sith fought the Jedi, the grief of losing his friend, the shock as he fell in a swarm of blue and green blades. The Dark Side, in it's hushed, sweet voice, was telling him to leave.

"There's only one thing we can do," he muttered, his swift fingers running over the controls and entering new coordinates. He grabbed the yoke and swung the ship around and activated the thrusters, speeding away from the battleground. They were silent for a long while, Kenobi's jaw clenched tightly as he activated the hyperdrive, the ship entering the blue and white of hyperspace back toward Serenno.

"...is it alright to go back?" Ventress asked quietly, and Kenobi snarled.

" _No, it isn't_." He ran his long fingers through his hair and closed his eyes. "I'm directly disobeying my Master. This could have been a test, and I have failed. I have _never_ failed."

"What's going to happen to you?"

"I don't know," Obi-Wan said softly, shaking his head. "But it isn't good."

* * *

The afternoon found Count Dooku lounging on his large, red velvet sofa, sipping a fine Corellian brandy from a tall, thin glass as he watched the holonet coverage of the battle for Antar 4. A life sized hologram of Darth Sidious stood beside him, observing the screen with his elderly apprentice. Behind them, Obi-Wan Kenobi was on the ground, his back arching off the fine carpets on the hard wood floor, trying to stifle strangled cries of pain as his blood boiled within his body, his nerves on fire as the Dark Side ripped through him, setting everything it touched alight with agony. Ventress was huddled in a far corner of the room, out of Sidious' holographic sight, her hands held tightly over her ears. Dooku wanted her to see what happened to apprentices that disobeyed their Masters.

"Do be quiet, Lumis," Sidious said, his voice low and cold and smooth. "I can't hear the report." Kenobi curled up in a ball, grasping his knees tightly and shoving his arm into his mouth, biting down hard to silence himself, blood and drool dripping down on to the silk carpet. Dooku rolled his eyes.

"I asked you _nicely_ to not soil my rugs, Lumis." Kenobi responded with a pained whimper as he took his arm from his mouth, spitting blood on the Count's fine silk, and Sidious laughed, the pressure on Kenobi easing slightly, and the young Sith gasped in relief.

"Do you hate me yet, my apprentice?"

"No, my Master." His clipped, accented voice was quiet and laced with pain, but he did not waiver. The Sith Master frowned.

"You disobeyed me, Lumis."

"I know, Master..." A sharp cry of pain was ripped from Kenobi when new agony lanced through the young Sith, writhing again on the ground as he struggled to keep his silence. Sidious frowned as he watched the report, growling softly as he watched the Jedi press forward to the government buildings.

"If you are alive at the end of this day, Lumis, I shall have to retrain you for _obedience_." The young Sith whimpered softly, tensing as pain coursed through him. His resistance was impressive, but it just made the Master create more suffering for his apprentice. "I'm going to go inside your mind and tear you apart, Lumis. I will make you into what I _want_ you to be. And if I hear _once more_ that leaving Antar 4 was the will of the Force..." Sidious scoffed. "You are not some _Jedi_ that obeys the Force, you are _Sith_ , the Force is yours to command."

" _M-master_..." the pain eased for a moment, and Obi-Wan coughed violently, blood splattering in thick drops on the ground. "Master...you know my mind is yours, _all_ of me is yours..."

Sidious nodded. "I believe you. Absolute loyalty is rare in a Sith, but it's present in you, my apprentice. You know you deserve this punishment."

"Yes, my Master..."

"Would you like it to stop?"

"...no, Master."

Sidious grinned maliciously, sending his pleasure with his apprentice through the Force before he crippled him with agony, Kenobi yelping and gripping the expensive rugs in his strong hands.

"Come here, Lumis," Sidious purred, increasing the pain on the already struggling man, and the young Sith began convulsing. "I cannot see you and the holonet at the same time."

It took him a long time, second after agonizing second passing by at a crawl as Kenobi slowly dragged himself from the center of the room to the couch, dropping before the hologram of his Master, his body thrashing as he curled up, shoulders shaking as he silently sobbed.

Kenobi suddenly grabbed at his throat with shaking hands, scratching deep, bleeding lines in his neck as his airflow was cut off, but Tyranus and Sidious barely noticed. Their eyes were glued to the holonet as the Jedi army set off an electromagnetic pulse weapon, the native Gotal population and the Gotal extremist group that held the city suffering extreme pain and disorientation. Sensitive to electromagnetic waves, the Gotals were crippled by the weapon, though not permanently hurt, and in the confusion, the Jedi had secured Antar 4 for the Republic. The battle was over. The Jedi had won.

Kenobi's legs were flailing as the Force choked him, the edges of his vision slowly turning black as unconsciousness threatened to overtake him. The pressure released just enough for Obi-Wan to suck in a thin breath, but the Master was not listening; all his focus was on the holonet, not his dying apprentice. Kenobi reached out a shaking hand to try and grab for the Master's robes, only to pass through the holographic image.

Slowly, the choking hold on his neck released, and Kenobi gasped for breath, quick and shallow and whimpering in agony as he tried to fill his lungs, but pain and panic was keeping him was keeping him from properly breathing. Hie ears were ringing, and he could see a stunned Dooku talking with Sidious, but he could hear nothing over the sound of his own frantic keening and the roar of the Dark Side that tore through him.

And then it was over, the pain lifting from him and Kenobi collapsed, laying still on the floor, breathing shallow and even. In the back of his mind, he could feel that his Master was pleased.

" _Lumis_." Kenobi shivered, the smooth, even voice sending chills through him, and he braced for more pain. "My poor apprentice, you have done _so_ well...hasn't he, Tyranus?"

"He may have..." The Count's voice sounded distant, but impressed. Kenobi shivered as he felt blood running down his neck from the gashes he had gouged himself.

"I need you to gather the Separatist Council on Geonosis. This may have been just the thing we were waiting for." Dooku stood and bowed, quickly sweeping out of the room, Ventress scrambling after him, leaving the shaking Kenobi alone in the room with the hologram of Darth Sidious. Obi-Wan's breath slowly evened, his body recovering from the crippling pain when the Dark Side surged within him at the Sith Master's bidding, and Kenobi moaned loudly, this time in ecstacy.

"My Lumis, I should stop doubting you," the Master murmured to himself, the hologram reaching out and Kenobi could feel the Sith's hands running through his hair, over his cheek, down his chest, across his stomach, the ghosting touch of the Force warming his flushed skin and easing the residual pain. "The Jedi have lost the war to win a battle. Antar 4 is Republic today, but it won't be for long." Sidious smirked, sending another wave of pleasure through the moaning young apprentice, gauging his feelings and finding gratitude rushing through him. There was no bitterness, no rage, no anger at his severe treatment.

"If you were on the planet, the Jedi would have diverted their attention to deal with _you_. They may not have used the weapon, they may have killed you, my dear apprentice..."

"I-I'm sorry, Master..."

" _Hush_." Kenobi held his breath, whimpering as wave after wave of pleasure rushed through him, the intense pain of before fading to a distant memory. "You are one with the Dark Side, Lumis. Perhaps you were right to follow the will of the Force."

Kenobi pushed himself up, kneeling before his Master and breathing fast and deep, his yellow eyes dilated and a red flush across his face. "What would you have me do, Master?"

"Trust your instincts, Lumis. Since you were a Jedi, your instincts have been leading you to the Dark Side, and now that it has you, you must not turn away from it."

"Never, Master..."

"You said the Dark Side guided you away from Antar 4 and it will guide you again." Sidious pulled back his hood, the blazing eyes of Senator Palpatine cutting into him. "Do you trust me, Lumis?"

"Always, Master, _always!_ "

"Rest then, Lumis, and let me deal with the aftermath of this battle. Come to me tomorrow, and we will discuss the next stage of your training. You are ready to progress."

Kenobi bowed his head, his shoulders shaking under the rushing pleasure. "As you wish, my Master." The hologram cut, and Kenobi fell to the ground, his breath coming out in unsteady, ragged gasps as he closed his eyes and allowed the Dark Side to rush through him without restriction. He didn't hear Ventress enter the room and slowly approach, her soft, careful feet creeping toward the Sith Lord like he was bait, like there was something bigger and much more dangerous laying in wait within the shadows.

"Kenobi?" She peeked over the back of the couch, looking down at the man, sprawled out on the floor and his neck red with blood. Her pale eyes widened, and she leapt over the couch, landing softly on the ground next to him and, with shaking fingers, touched the warm, wet blood and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw his chest rise and fall. " _Kenobi_!"

"Mmm..."

" _What was that_?!"

"Shh..." He brought his finger up and laid it on her lips, and she could taste blood. She stayed silent as he requested, her pale eyes looking over him as the Sith breathed deeply, moaning softly with every breath, unrestrained bliss on his face, and she couldn't help but be reminded of the spice addicts back on Rattatak.

"Kenobi..."

"How much did you see?"

Ventress bit her lip. "I saw you suffering...I thought you were going to die."

"...yes, me too."

"Was that your Master?"

Kenobi nodded. "Did you see him"

"No, he was too far away." Kenobi breathed deeply, seemingly satisfied, and Ventress became angry.

"He could have _killed you_! What are you doing serving a thing like that, you didn't even do anything wrong!"

"I disobeyed his orders. I did deserve that." He opened his eyes, looking up at the Nightsister, and she was no less angry. "...Asajj, my Master is not unreasonable. He came around, you saw that. He knows I'm loyal, and he knows I will do what is best for the Sith."

"And he still _tortured_ you."

Kenobi shrugged. "I don't mind. Pain feeds the Dark Side, and I can endure a lot. My Master knows my limits." Obi-Wan groaned as he sat up, taking Ventress' hand as she helped him to his feet. "There is sacrifice in all things, Asajj, and if I must trade pain for power, so be it."

"...I cannot do what you are doing."

"No, you can't. You're no Sith." Kenobi groaned as he stretched his legs. "Come on, Asajj. I have two Jedi downstairs. Want to watch me work?"

Ventress really, really did.


	11. Reunited

The aftermath of the situation on Antar 4 left the Jedi Order shaken, the use of the electromagnetic pulse to retake the moon had turned the native Gotal population against the Republic, and though the sector was technically part of the Republic, the people were all Separatist sympathizers. Before Antar 4, the Separatists had a thousand worlds dedicated to their cause. In the months following, the Separatist had five thousand.

The Senate blamed the Jedi for not being able to stop the battle from taking place, and though they never publically said it, many of the Jedi blamed the Senate for creating the situation that forced them to arrive on Antar 4 as an army. The Jedi death toll had doubled on that day, and the peacekeepers were beginning to feel the strain of impending war. Worse, the Jedi and the Senate slowly began to distrust each other. The members of the Republic began seeing the Jedi Order as ineffective peacekeepers, but impressive warriors, a force that could bring the mechanical armies of the Separatists to heel. The Jedi began to see war as inevitable, and with public opinion against them as a result of the battle of Antar 4, there was little they could do to argue for peace.

What made Anakin most angry, though, was the assassination attempt of a powerful Senator, and when he rushed to tell his Master the news, Qui-Gon had already put in the request to the Council to serve as Senator Padmé Amidala's guards until the assassination plot was exposed. The Jedi Master had served as her guard once before, and he found it appropriate that he do so again, though he had a new Padawan by his side this time. Anakin, however, was no stranger to Padmé, and his anticipation to see her again was making him fidget nervously in the elevator next to his Master.

"Are you alright?" Qui-Gon asked softly, and his Padawan's nervous laugh said it all. "I know you have been anxious to see her-"

"What if she doesn't remember me?!"

"Anakin, you were a child, it was ten years ago. You're a man now, I wouldn't recognize you either."

"B-but what if she doesn't _remember_?"

Qui-Gon chuckled softly. "Anakin Skywalker, you are difficult to forget. You are part of the reason her planet was saved, if you would recall. She hasn't forgotten, I assure you."

Anakin nodded, nervously fiddling with his robes. "W-what if-"

"If this mission is too personal for you, Anakin-"

" _No_!" The Padawan coughed, clearing his voice, flushing in embarrassment as his voice cracked. He was too old for this. "No, Master, I'll be fine. I'm just... _nervous_. Because, you know, she's a _queen_ -"

" _Was_ a queen."

" _Was_ a queen," Anakin corrected. "When we met. She was a queen and I was a slave and I never thought that anything so... _amazing_ could ever happen to me. And then there was you, and the Jedi, and a battle, and the _Force_!"

Qui-Gon laughed, and his Padawan bit his lip, smiling shyly. "I understand, Anakin. I do. Just...try not to make a fool of yourself in front of the Senator."

"I won't, Master." The elevator door slid open, and the two Jedi stepped out, Qui-Gon the very image of calm, and Anakin a sweating, nervous mess. It only took a moment for Senator Amidala and the retinue to arrive, and the young Senator ran to Qui-Gon and threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly.

"Qui-Gon, I have missed you!" she mumbled into the thick folds of his robe, the little woman completely engulfed in the towering Jedi's embrace.

She pulled away from him, her small hands gripping his arms, her eyes wide and emotional. "I heard about what happened t-to..." She paused, looking away and sniffling before she looked back to him, her face composed, but her eyes conveying the depths of her emotions. "I heard about what happened to Obi-Wan. I-I'm sorry, I truly am. I didn't know him as well as I would have liked, but...I-I was shaken by his death. He was good and brave and handsome, a-and-"

"I miss him too, Senator," Qui-Gon said softly, and Anakin couldn't help but feel pride for how well his Master was holding it together. His teenage mind was so in tune with Qui-Gon that it took a moment for him to process Padmé's words.

_Handsome_?!

He finally looked at Padmé, really looked at her, and he found her so different from when he saw her last. Before, she had been this unattainable queen, perfect and beautiful and brave and caring, and when he was young, she was all he ever wanted, before he even knew what he wanted. But now...

_Now_ , Padme had grown into a woman, her body still small, but curved in all the right places, shaped in all the right ways. She was still beautiful, but not like Anakin remembered. Now she was just a person, not some shining goddess, and he could feel his heart ache with...longing? He wasn't sure. He'd have to ask his Master. But what was also there was the realization that Padmé had lived ten years without him, ten years as an adult, and while Anakin was studying to be a Jedi, she was out here with other people.

She had called Obi-Wan handsome. Anakin didn't remember his Master's other student, but he did know that if the Queen thought that of her young Jedi protector, than she may have thought that about other men as well. After all, she wasn't a Jedi. She didn't need to keep herself from love, she could engage in her wants, her desires, her passions, her lusts...

Anakin shivered, groaning softly and standing closer to his Master as very unwelcome images of the Senator entangled with other men flooded his mind. He had no idea _why_ he was behaving in this manner...

He felt eyes on him, and Qui-Gon cleared his throat. "Padmé, this is my current Padawan, Anakin Skywalker."

The Senator looked him over, her smile growing as she held her breath, trembling in excitement as she threw her arms around the fidgeting Padawan. Anakin forgot how to breathe.

"Ani, is that really you?" She pulled away, looking him over, and Skywalker wished that he could will away the fierce blush he knew was on his face. "I didn't even recognize you, look how you have grown!"

"Y-you have too, Padmé..." She looked at him curiously, and the Padawan could feel himself begin to sweat. "I-I mean, you haven't _grown_ , you're still the same height, I think..." Her eyebrow arched, and he could feel panic grip him. Did he say the wrong thing? Qui-Gon was a fine Master, but he didn't prepare him to deal with girls _at all_. "N-not that it's a bad thing! I-I like small girls!"

"Anakin..." Qui-Gon gently admonished.

"Not _small_ , just...Force, I'm sorry! I-I don't know what to do around _girls_!"

"That's enough, Anakin," the Master said, quietly pulling the stuttering Skywalker to his side, Padmé chuckling softly. "You'll forgive my Padawan, Senator, he hasn't had a lot of contact with women of your caliber."

The former queen smiled brightly, her entire face seeming to light up, and Anakin wished he could have been as smooth as his Master. Just for _once_. "There's nothing to apologize for, Qui-Gon. I think it's endearing."

Skywalker shivered despite the warmth that was spreading through him. Endearing was _much_ better than awkward. "Don't say that too loudly, Senator," Qui-Gon said softly. "We don't want Anakin getting full of himself."

"No, of course not." She took the Master's arm, pulling him toward a large, spacious sitting room. "Just so you know, Master Jedi, I didn't ask for a guard detail. My allies in the Senate demanded it. I apologize if this is an inconvenience to you."

"N-not at all!" Anakin cut in. "It's no trouble, none at all! W-we weren't doing anything anyway!"

"The Jedi _are_ busy, Padmé, but I was not." He smiled softly as he felt relief wash over the woman. She may not have asked for them, but she _was_ glad they were here. "It's actually refreshing to get out of the Temple. The Jedi are electing new members to the Council after the events on Antar 4, and I prefer to be out of sight, out of mind for that."

"You don't want to be on the Council?" Her big, brown eyes looked over the Master's stoic face. "Isn't that what Obi-Wan wanted for you?"

"All Padawans desire for their Masters to be on the Council." The answer was evasive, but it seemed to satisfy the young woman, though Anakin sensed that she was...disappointed. His eyes narrowed, focusing in on her, but he could not discern why. Qui-Gon would know, he'd have to ask later. "Regardless, Senator Amidala, Anakin and I are glad to be here. Keeping you safe does seem to be what we're good at."

"Y-you'll be safe as long as we're here, Padmé, don't you worry!"

She smiled at the teen. "I know you will, Anakin." She looked at the Master, all good humor gone from her face, her big eyes serious. "I want to know who's trying to kill me, Qui-Gon. The assassination attempts won't end until we stop it at the source."

"Senator, the Council assigned us here to protect you, not-"

"We'll find who's doing this, Padmé, and we'll stop them!"

Qui-Gon glared at his eager apprentice, his young heart beating quickly and a foolish grin on his face. "...as I was saying, our goal may be to protect you, but if the Force gives us an opportunity to find who is doing this, we will, of course, take it." He grabbed Anakin's braid and sharply yanked it, the teen uttering a sharp cry and grabbing his head. "Patience, Anakin. Have you ever known me to not follow my instincts?"

"No, Master..." Skywalker smiled sheepishly. He didn't like being scolded in front of Padmé, but he _did_ deserve it. "I apologize. I'll try to...contain my enthusiasm." The Master's large hand ruffled the Padawan's short cut hair, and Padmé laughed gently.

"You two get along so well! It's...good to see you happy, Anakin."

He was grinning like an idiot, he knew, but he didn't care. They didn't know each other anymore, not really, but even after all this time, they clearly still cared for each other. Anakin knew this mission wouldn't last long, but he was glad to be here at all. Maybe, now that they had been reunited, he would get to see the lovely Senator more often.

"Shall we discuss your security detail?"

The Senator nodded. "I have Senate guards posted on the floor above and below this one, and there are additional guards at the entrance of the building. My own personal guards are on this floor, and I have you two as well."

Qui-Gon nodded. "And your sleeping arrangements?" The woman pointed toward a door down the hallway. "May we see?"

"Of course." Padmé stood, and Qui-Gon immediately fell beside her, putting himself between the young woman and the large, wide window in the room. Anakin stood on her other side as close as he dared to. He was certain that if he came any closer, she'd be able to hear his heart pounding in his chest.

The bedroom was large, spacious, the light of Coruscant's busy nightlife filtering through the blinds that covered a long window. Qui-Gon frowned, stroking his beard as he observed the room. "This isn't going to work..."

"...Qui-Gon' it's where I _sleep_."

"Your assassin blew up your ship, Senator. Whoever he is, he isn't subtle, he isn't shy, and he _knows_ you."

"Master Qui-Gon is right," Anakin said swiftly, much more eager than he attended. "We _definitely_ can't leave you in here alone." He shrugged, a coy smile on his lips. "Guess we're just going to have to stay in your room with you."

The young woman looked to the Jedi Master, and Qui-Gon sighed heavily. "Anakin lacks _tact_ almost entirely, but he's right. Your assassin is certainly still in the city. One failed attempt isn't going to stop him. We have to assume he'll be back again soon. We need to stay here with you."

The Senator nodded. "Let me get ready for bed."

"Anakin. Check her closets and any other rooms she may need to use _without_ our supervision." The Padawan bowed, smiled at Padmé, and rushed off to do as he was bid. "...do I need to apologize for Anakin's behavior?"

"What? No!" Padmé scooted closer to the Jedi, smiling softly as she heard his Padawan shuffling about in the other rooms. "He's excited, I understand. I was hoping to see him again as well. I kept meaning to try and see him at the Temple, but I've been so busy here and..." She sighed, twirling her finger through a loose strand of hair. "I knew you were training him, but he's grown up so much, I didn't know it was him." She pressed closer to the Master. "I saw Obi-Wan maybe...a month before he..." She shook her head. "He said that visiting Anakin would be a bad idea. He had to focus on his training and I would be a distraction."

"...I didn't know you saw him." She nodded, averting her eyes. It was a sore subject for both of them. "But he was right. Anakin _is_ doing well. He struggles, like we all do, and he's a bit behind his peers because of his late start. Not much behind anymore, but he was. He's talented, yes, but he's learned that talent only goes so far. He's closed the gap so much because he has been wholly dedicated to his training."

Padmé was beaming, her face lighting up with pride and...something else. Qui-Gon frowned. She was passionate, yes, and wore her emotions on her sleeve, and she couldn't contain the deep affection she had for her young Tatooine boy. "When do you suppose he'll become a Knight?"

"He has some time yet. Don't forget, he's still younger than Obi-Wan when you first met him."

"Have you really let him go?" The Master's dark blue eyes ran over the girl, and he didn't need the Force to see the change in her disposition, watching her fade from bright happiness to a dull ache, an old pain that had not stopped hurting. "I haven't."

"...I haven't either."

"I-I know Jedi aren't supposed to love, but..." Qui-Gon held his breath as he watched her carefully sift through her mind to choose the right words. Nothing good _ever_ started this way. "When we last met, he was...I-I had felt that there was something between us, I liked him. _A lot_." She blushed, turning her eyes from him. "I _wanted_ him, I thought we could-"

" _Done_!" Anakin, the Master of Poor Timing, shouted, rushing out of one of the adjacent rooms and stopping before his Master and the Senator, face flushed and beaming and chest puffed with pride. "No windows, no people, no explosives. It's all safe, Senator!"

Padmé smiled shyly, laid her hand on the Padawan's arm, muttered a quiet thank you, and left to ready herself for bed. The door clicked softly behind her as the door was locked, and Anakin wasted not a second longer before throwing himself against his towering Master.

" _I am so sorry_! I have no idea what's gotten into me!"

"Anakin, hush, it's fine..."

"I thought I was just excited to see her because it's been so long, and then I saw her, and she's _beautiful_ , Master! Sweet Force, I didn't know people could _be_ that beautiful!"

"Anakin..."

"A-a-and I feel hot and sweaty and just when I think everything's _fine_ , she smiles at me and it starts all over again! I don't know what to do!"

"You're going to sit and calm yourself," Qui-Gon said softly, sinking to his knees. When his Padawan didn't move, the Master sighed, reaching up and tugging on his braid hard, yanking the yelping teen to the ground. Anakin attempted to recover some dignity by righting himself, legs crossed and looking at the other Jedi. "You need to be mindful of your emotions, Anakin."

"I know, Master, I just-"

"You care for the girl, I know. I was young once too."

Anakin scoffed. "Not like me."

" _Just_ like you, but I was far worse." Anakin looked at his Master, wide-eyed and curious, his focus shifting from thoughts of Padmé to the smirking Jedi before him. "My own Master struggled to keep me away from the opposite sex for _years_. I think his disapproval only spurred me forward. I was...rebellious. Much more so than you."

"W-what's it like?!" Still on his knees, the Padawan scooted closer. "Owen was telling me about his girlfriend, but he didn't really _tell_ me, you know?"

"I won't lie to you and say it isn't pleasurable. It is. Immensely so. It's a biological urge, Anakin, we all feel it, some more keenly than others, and you did not start your life as a Jedi. This is expected, though this is happening later than I anticipated."

"So...it's ok?"

The Master nodded. "It's alright, yes. Just be mindful that your attachments don't rule you. They almost destroyed me."

He could feel Qui-Gon's presence through the Force, alight with pain, both old and new. Anakin knew what one was, but the other was unknown to him. "Are you talking about Obi-Wan?"

"...him as well, yes." Qui-Gon cleared his throat. "I loved once. Another Jedi. My whole life I loved her, and when she died, I was nearly driven to the Dark Side in my grief. I would be cautioning you against love now if I hadn't instructed Obi-Wan before you."

Again, his old Padawan. Anakin suspected that his Master had learned from his student nearly as much as his student learned from him. Even from beyond the grave, his Master seemed to be learning from Obi-Wan. "Did he love someone too?"

"Oh yes. I warned him about the dangers of love, of course, having come so close to falling, and he did try to listen. But sometimes, these things just... _happen_. We were on an extended mission to protect the ruler of Mandalore, and Obi-Wan had become quite close to her. Falling in love with her was nearly inevitable."

"Did you try to stop him?" Anakin was actually curious. The more and more he heard about Obi-Wan Kenobi, the more he wished he had remembered him from ten years back. Skywalker was really beginning to like the Jedi.

"At first..." Qui-Gon looked past Anakin, his eyes distant as he remembered. "But Obi-Wan was different than I was. After a while, I stopped trying and just watched. He was...cautious. Careful. He approached love hesitantly because he knew he wasn't supposed to have it, but he _did_ want her, and eventually he gave into it. When our mission was over, the two of them parted ways."

"Just like that?!"

"I am certain it wasn't that simple, but Obi-Wan put his feelings aside to continue his training. He may have still loved her, but if he did, he hid it deep." Qui-Gon smiled softly at his young Padawan. "I changed my opinions after that. Obi-Wan wasn't me, like you aren't him. I don't know how you will handle emotions that deep, but if you are mindful of the Force, if you know that all things are fleeting and that you must let go when the time comes...perhaps it's not so terrible."

Anakin slowly took his hand, smiling gently at the old Jedi. "Can you heed your own advice?"

"I do try, Anakin. It isn't easy."

"So..." He smiled slyly. "You're saying my feelings for Padmé-"

"Don't you even think about it, Anakin. A Senator can do better than a Jedi, and she certainly can't afford the scandal. Neither can the Order, for that matter..."

"...friends, then?" Saying it out loud didn't sound like such a bad idea. After all, he didn't want to be ruled by his most base urges. He wanted to make Qui-Gon proud, and a heated night with his old friend wasn't worthy of him. She was worth more than that as well.

"Friends sounds good to me." The Master smiled. "You don't know her anymore either. People change quite a bit in ten years. Look at you."

"Y-yeah, you're right. Thank you, Master."

"Where will you be sleeping?" Padmé asked, coming out of the ancillary rooms, her long hair let down and cascading over her shoulder and dressed in an oversized shirt and loose, silk pants. She was modestly dressed, but Anakin found her just so perfectly human that he couldn't help but like her more.

"I wasn't going to," Qui-Gon said softly. "Anakin can have the couch."

"I-I was going to stay up and keep watch with you, Master!"

"Oh?" Padme said coyly, a devious smirk on her lips, and Anakin found heat rushing through him again. "You're just going to watch me sleep then?"

"W-what? No! _No_ , I didn't mean-"

"You are _really_ enjoying this, aren't you?" Qui-Gon asked, his voice filled with laughter, and Anakin pulled his hood over his head to hide his face.

"I really am." She smiled brightly, sitting on the floor next to the Master and the Padawan. "I'm so happy to see you guys again. Even if the circumstances are...less than ideal."

Anakin and Qui-Gon both felt her distress through the Force at the same time, both reached out to take one of her hands in theirs. "I'm sorry for your loss, Padmé," Anakin said softly, and Qui-Gon gently squeezed her hand.

"It seems we're all losing people close to us these days," the Senator whispered, and she suddenly felt overwhelmingly weary, the adrenaline from her brush with death and the excitement of seeing her old friends finally wearing off. She had lost a friend that day. Cordé had been with her a long time, and she had died for her, along with six others. Her nerves were too raw to hold it together, and the young woman softly began to cry, tightly clutching the Jedi's hands.

"...we've been losing Jedi," Anakin said quietly. "On Antar 4, on Kabal, on Serenno...we've lost Knights and Masters and Padawans, a member of the High Council, the Sithkiller..." Anakin laughed bitterly. "I haven't really thought about how many have been taken from us."

"It's all so senseless..." Padmé sniffled, and she scooted closer to her Jedi guardians. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to drag things down like this, I just-"

"You don't need to apologize, Senator," Qui-Gon said, pulling the tiny woman close to him. "We understand."

They were silent for a long while, and Anakin began to fidget uncomfortably. He didn't like the long silence; it made him feel helpless to ease his friend's grief. "Padmé, um..." He cleared his throat, frowning at how high-pitched he sounded, and those big, sad brown eyes turned on him. "I...h-haven't lost anyone really... _personal_. Not yet, so I don't...w-well, Master Qui-Gon has been suffering over Obi-Wan for a long time now, and..." He took a deep breath. "If you ever want to talk about it, I've turned into a really great listener."

She smiled gently, leaned up and kissed his cheek, and Skywalker could hear his heart pounding in his ears. "Thank you, Anakin. I'll remember that."

His head was swimming, his every fiber aching for contact, and the rational part of Anakin's mind tried to tell him that this was just lust, carnal and base and primal, but everything else in him didn't care. It was desire and need, yes, but it _felt_ like love to him. He didn't know what love actually felt like, of course, but it must have been this since it felt _so_ good...

A sharp pull of the Force yanked Anakin out of his blissful haze, and his blue eyes darted up, instantly focusing and looking to his Master, the old Jedi looking just as sharp. "Master."

"I felt it too." His hand shot to his lightsaber, taking it in his hand, his thumb hovering over the ignition. Anakin did likewise. "Follow my lead, Anakin. Senator, don't move." Padmé nodded her head ever so slightly, her large eyes alert and unafraid. Qui-Gon closed his eyes, breathing deeply and focusing in the Force. "Are you in tune with me, Anakin?"

"Yes, Master."

"Feel for the right moment. You know what to do."

There was absolute silence for just a moment, and then the sound of glass shattering and lightsabers igniting filled the room, followed by the swift sound of sparking as the two Jedi stood before the Senator, their blue blades deflecting the projectiles that were fired into the room. Padmé flattened herself to the ground, making herself as small as she could, but the towering Jedi formed an impenetrable wall between her and the assassin.

The shots finally stopped, and without wasting a moment, Anakin dashed from his Master's side and dove out the window in pursuit of the sniper on the building across the way. The gap between buildings was much too wide for even a Jedi to jump. Qui-Gon reached out with the Force and grabbed his Padawan as he started to fall, Skywalker flailing as he was lifted back into the room, his bright blue eyes narrowing in anger as he watched the assassin fly away with the jetpack that was strapped to his blue and white armor.

"Are you alright, Padmé?" Qui-gon asked the Senator swiftly, and when she nodded, he quickly turned an angry gaze on his Padawan. "Anakin, _what were you thinking_?!"

"I was pursuing him, Master, he's getting away!"

"And just what did you think you would accomplish by jumping out of the window?"

"W-well, I'd catch him and-"

" _How_. No Jedi can make that jump."

"...I'd land in a speeder and-"

Qui-Gon crossed his arms and shook his head, turning from his apprentice and going to carefully search the room.

Anakin sighed. "Master, I'm _sorry_. You're right, of course, I wasn't thinking." Qui-Gon was silent. "I'll try to be more patient in the future." Nothing. "...I'm trying to be mindful of the Force, Master, but my _feelings_ told me to go after him, so...if I should trust my feelings, but be mindful of the Force, which should I listen to first?" Still, the Master said nothing. "...Master, _please_ , I'm sorry! Can't you just yell at me like a normal Master?!"

"Shh..." Qui-Gon carefully picked up something small that had dug into the floor as the guards ran into the room, blasters drawn.

"Senator, are you-"

"I'm fine, thank you," she said swiftly, looking at the small object in Qui-Gon's hand. "The assassin has fled. Contact the authorities." The guards saluted and ran from the room. "What's that?" she asked softly, reaching out to it, but the Jedi pulled his hand away.

"Don't touch it. Anakin, did you get a good look at the assassin?"

"Um...yes, Master. He was wearing a helmet, though, I couldn't see his face." Anakin took a deep breath, inching closer to his Master through the broken glass on the floor. "Are you mad at me?"

"Not at all, you're young and impulsive and you want to help your friend. I understand." Qui-Gon held the small object up, rotating it around, examining it from all angles. "Describe the assassin."

"Um...Master, he was wearing Mandalorian armor."

"...Mandalorian?" Qui-Gon's dark blue eyes shot to his Padawan. "Are you sure?" The teen nodded. "There isn't a place for warriors on Mandalore these days, the New Mandalorians would never accept it. Bounty hunter and assassin are the perfect profession for those that kept the old ways. Contacting the Duchess about this may offend her, but I feel like we should..."

"Is it possible this guy is tied to Mandalore, Master?"

Qui-Gon nodded. "Possible, yes, but unlikely. We need to rule it out if we're going to track down this assassin." The Master frowned, observing the object in his hand. "The problem is, he was shooting _these_ , and they aren't Mandalorian rounds."

Anakin kneeled next to the Master, looking at the small ballistic. "...I don't recognize the make of this, Master."

"Nor do I." Qui-Gon groaned as he rose to his feet, slipping the dart-like projectile into a pouch on his belt. "I fear this task is beyond my skill."

"Master, don't give up! We can-"

"We can't, Anakin. I know you want to find this assassin, but we are sworn to protect Padmé, and she's in danger as long as the assassin is out there. Not only that, you and I aren't suited to tracking and hunting." Anakin was disappointed, his blue eyes drifting to his Master's face, and Qui-Gon had a clever smirk on his face. "But I know a guy who is."


	12. Breaking Point

Master Eeth Koth clutched the lightsaber tightly, his body damp with sweat and his breathing hard and ragged. He brought his green blade up before him defensively, tip pointed at Ixian, the knight slowly advancing on him, a blue saber clutched in his own hand, the blade dragging along the floor and leaving long burns in the compact dirt of the training arena. Escape was futile. He had tried it several times in the months he had been imprisoned, but he never got very far. The Zabrak had seen his first real chance to get away when he was brought here to the training grounds for the first time, a lightsaber put into his hand, and he had thought the Sith was gravely underestimating him.

The Master had managed to destroy the droids that brought him, but the Sith was simply amused, and when Koth engaged the Negotiator, he realized there was no way he could possibly win. He still tried every single time, but in the end, he was forced to play the Sith's game to keep his suffering friend alive.

Ixian was strong, but not nearly strong enough. He was easily broken, each time his resistance falling faster, each time accommodating the Sith into his mind with greater ease. Kenobi hadn't tried to break Koth yet, but the Master knew that time was not far off. Ixian wouldn't last much longer. Even when he was himself, even when the Sith was nowhere to be found, the Jedi Knight occasionally called Kenobi Master. It was completely unconscious, and he never knew he was doing it, and Eeth had to watch as his fellow Jedi slowly and unknowingly become a slave to the Sith Lord.

Shortly after they were captured, the Sith Lord had come to them, and Master Koth could feel something different about him. He _looked_ the same, but his presence in the Force was brighter, an all-consuming flame that threatened to burn those that came too close to ashes. Kenobi was stronger, frighteningly so, and Koth knew the surge of power came from the red and gold pyramid in the Sith's hand.

"Stop running, Jedi," the Sith purred, lounging carelessly by the door in an overly large chair, the holocron floating open before him, a smirk on his lips as he drank in its secrets. "He's going to kill you."

"He _won't_."

"He will because I want him to. He'll do _anything_ because I want him to, you know that. We have this conversation _every single time_ we do this." He whistled, and the Jedi Knight stood tall, his hazy, distant eyes gazing blankly at the Sith. "Sweetheart, kill this Jedi, won't you?"

"Yes, Master..."

Eeth gripped his saber tighter. The words came so easily to Ixian now. The Knight rose his weapon and rushed the Master with his full speed and fury, and Koth did everything he could to keep the Jedi unharmed. Imprisonment had made them both weary, their stamina depleted from their efforts to resist the Sith, their bodies weak from the lack of proper nourishment, and Koth had always been a superior swordsman. That was true now as well. The Knight didn't actually stand a chance against him, but the Master didn't want to hurt him. This wasn't his fault.

The Knight's strikes became wild and random, and as Master Koth went to block a strike, the other Jedi pulled back suddenly, and the Zabrak's green blade severed the Knight's hand at the wrist, the blue blade falling to the ground. The Master gasped, watching the Knight as he slowly looked at the burning flesh of his arm, his empty eyes drifting to the weapon on the ground. He showed no pain, no shock, no fear or _anything_ as he dragged his feet to the saber on the ground and knelt beside it, picking it up in his non-dominant hand.

"Ixian, _please_!"

Kenobi reached his hand out, calling through the Force to the Jedi, and the man slowly turned, dropping the saber and dutifully coming to his Master's side, falling to his knees beside the Sith's feet. "Poor thing...you're barely worth keeping alive anymore."

"Don't kill him, Kenobi, _don't_!"

Obi-Wan laughed. "I'm not going to kill him, you're going to kill him."

Koth snarled, the discarded saber flying to his hand and igniting with a hiss. " _Enough_! If you're going to kill us, get to it! Or are you afraid, Lord of the Sith?"

"Don't be an idiot, Eeth, you're no threat to me anymore."

" _Months_! We have been here for months and all you have done is repeatedly break a broken man! _Why_?!"

Kenobi smiled, grabbing the Jedi's hair, and the Knight groaned. "I haven't been ready to break you, Koth." He laughed, smooth and slow, and the Jedi Master felt a chill run through him. "But I am now. Even you can feel I'm stronger than before."

"It isn't you, it's that _thing_ ," the Master snarled, pointing his green saber at the floating, glowing holocron, the soft whispers of Ancient Sith emitting from the opened pyramid.

"A holocron holds no power other than knowledge. My Master has... _quite_ a collection that he inherited from the previous Sith Lord. Have you heard of the Sith Emperor?" The Zabrak's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. "Of course you haven't, the Jedi don't know _anything_ about the Sith."

"When I get out-"

"You won't. By the end of today, you're going to be mine, so you may as well listen. It's going to be the last thing you ever learn before I empty that head of yours, and your Code _does_ demand knowledge."

"What's the point if you're just going to take it all away?"

Kenobi smiled, the red light of the holocron casting his handsome face in a sinister light. "I want you to know how hopeless your struggle is. But, if not that..." He pet the Knight's hair, the Jedi purring in satisfaction. "Do _you_ want to hear about the Sith Emperor Valkorion?"

"Yes, Master..."

"See? He wants to know. He's such a _good_ Jedi." The Knight moaned loudly as the Sith sent waves of pleasure through him, his Jedi training leaving him fully unprepared for the rush and intensity of physical pleasure, and he slowly rolled his hips, his body aching for contact. The Zabrak looked away, biting his lip. He couldn't watch his fellow Jedi be forced to degrade himself.

"Valkorian was Emperor of the Sith for thousands of years." He smirked, watching the Jedi Master stare at him defiantly. "He extended his life, of course, using the Dark Side to preserve his original body while _he_ jumped from body to body, his consciousness resting in various host bodies until he learned how to achieve true immortality, at which point, he would return to his original form."

"And _that's_ what you want?"

Kenobi scoffed. "Don't be an idiot, immortality is a fallacy. That isn't my aim."

"Then what is?!"

"Shh, your Master's talking, Eeth." He chuckled softly when the Jedi did, in fact, stop talking. "Valkorion was obsessed with immortality, and he stored the wealth of his knowledge on the subject in several holocrons, such as this one." He flicked his wrist, and the opened pyramid spun in the air. "All aspects of it. True immortality, essence transfer, extending one's natural life, and so on. _This_ is one of the Sith Emperor's holocrons."

"If you don't care for endless life, what _do_ you want?"

" _Power_." Kenobi snarled, his yellow eyes glowing wickedly, the holocron making them seem blood red. "This holocron isn't about the extension of life, my Master would _never_ allow me to touch those. This one is filled with his knowledge of Qâzoi Kyantuska. Mental domination. I've been using my own variety of this for _years_ , but now..." Kenobi laughed harshly, his rich voice melodic in its malice. "Now, Eeth, I've learned from Valkorion himself, and you're going to be the first one to see it. And when I am done breaking you, you will _thank me for it_."

Master Koth brought the sabers up, pointing the twin blades at the Sith Lord. "We'll see if I can't kill you first."

Kenobi grabbed the Knights' hair, leaned over and whispered in his ear, and the Jedi stood, facing the Jedi Master for a moment before he rushed the Zabrak. Koth backed away, Force pushing the other Jedi out of the way, but it only deterred him for a moment before he was back on his feet and coming after him again. Ixian was relentless, unconcerned for his safety as he threw himself unarmed against the Jedi Master, and Koth did all he could to avoid harming the man more than he already had. The Knight instinctively reached out for one of Koth's sabers with the stub of his right arm, and for just a moment, Koth's eyes drifted to the blackened flesh, his focus breaking for just a moment, but it was long enough for Ixian to grab the saber with his left. The Zabrak tensed, thrust his other arm forward to keep the enthralled Knight from the weapon, and his eyes widened as the tip of the lightsaber pressed into the Jedi Knight's chest, his vacant eyes wide as his lungs burned.

Koth dropped his sabers, the weapons deactivating as they hit the ground, and he gathered the other Jedi in his arms, kneeling with him on the ground as the Jedi shuddered and gasped for breath, the Master doing all he could to sooth him with the Force. He knew there was nothing he could do to save him. He knew that a long time ago, though he continued to hold onto the hope that one day, they'd come away from this nightmare. Ixian slowly stopped breathing and the shaking ceased, and the Master laid the man on the ground.

"I told you," Kenobi purred, the holocron floating to his hand and the pyramid closed, the bright red glow fading as the whispers of the ancient Sith were silenced. "You killed him, not me." The Sith grinned wickedly. "I don't kill Jedi. Not yet."

" _You_ are responsible!"

" _Me_?" Obi-Wan laid his hand on his chest, mock hurt on his face. "I'm not the one that was holding the lightsaber. I haven't killed _any_ Jedi. Except one, but that doesn't count."

"You're responsible for all of them! You created the situation that led to his death! You're responsible for the deaths on Kabal! What about the four that died on Serenno, are you at fault for those as well?!"

The Sith scoffed, standing from his chair, and Koth called the sabers back into his hands. "I don't control Grievous, he killed your friends. I _did_ ask for them alive, but..." He shrugged. "You win some, you lose some, I suppose. And on Serenno...well, I only killed Sar Labooda. Dooku killed the others. Really, he did the work with the Master as well. She was already dead when I was asked to kill her, I just... _ended_ her suffering. Really, you should be thanking me."

Eeth's sharp eyes watched as the Sith tossed his holocron onto the chair, his hand drawing his lightsaber and the red blade ignited with a hiss, the plasma thrumming in the air as he deftly twirled the blade, stepping into the training arena. Master Koth watched the Sith Lord stalked around him with renewed focus. His fellow Jedi was dead, and without the concern for his well-being, the Master felt his focus return, sharper than ever. This was a _Sith_ , and not just any Sith, but a traitor to the Jedi Order, a creature that had killed Obi-Wan Kenobi and replaced him with the Negotiator. He would kill this Sith or die trying.

"I appreciate your resolve, Eeth, truly, I do." Kenobi smirked as the Zabrak glared, his mental walls being thrown up and strengthened when he felt the Sith read him. "Don't let your defenses break. Stay focused and centered, don't let the Dark Side in. I need you at your best."

Koth said nothing. He just observed the smirking Sith as he paced, his movements smooth and graceful and predatory. He was through being patient. Koth was going to kill this man. With a snarl, the Zabrak lunged at Kenobi, the twin sabers dancing through the air with furious grace and speed. The Jedi mercilessly attacked Kenobi's solid defense, the Sith smirking all the while, his red blade tilting and angling effortlessly to block the rain of stabs and slashes, using the absolute minimum energy required to keep himself safe. Obi-Wan's focus was elsewhere, his entire being immersed in the Dark Side as his eyes bore into the Jedi Master, channeling the Force and feeling his opponent, delighting in the rush of emotions, sizing up the Master's formidable defense. Any being could be broken. Even a Jedi Master.

Eeth Koth was one with the Force, his focus intense and unshaken as his furious assault continued, but while the Master was giving everything to destroying the Sith, Kenobi was using the Jedi's anger and frustration to ease gently into his mind. Obi-Wan leaned back, the blue saber cutting dangerously close to his head for an instant, and the Sith frowned. This second saber was a problem. Blocking a quick succession of slashes, the Sith calmly commanded, "Drop your secondary weapon."

The Master froze, his forward momentum causing him to skid forward to a halt before he jumped back, just barely avoiding the arching red blade. His eyes narrowed, and he raised his sabers before him, his heart seeming to freeze in his chest when he found his left hand empty, his own green weapon blazing in the air before him alone. Wide eyes drifted to the smirking Sith as he teasingly held up Koth's discarded second saber. He had obeyed, and the Jedi didn't even know he had done it.

"Oh dear, what happened?" Kenobi drawled softly, his crisp accent dripping with mock concern. "Did you lose your weapon?" The Jedi rose his green blade, this time defensively, and he quietly touched the Force, trying to recenter himself and strengthen his walls. Something must have been weakened if the Sith could get through, but the Jedi could find nothing.

"Your defenses are fine, Eeth, but by all means, strengthen yourself." The Sith Lord chuckled deeply as he felt the Jedi's resolve waiver, jaw clenching in frustration. The Master knew Kenobi was in his mind, and there was no way to force him out. He couldn't help his eyes from drifting to the dead Jedi on the floor, remembered how he had been in the final months of his life, and he shivered.

Koth felt sudden pressure on him, not on his body, but on his mind, and he struggled to keep the intruder out, and blinding pain began to burn behind his eyes. It was taking all the focus he had to resist, and he dropped his other saber, bringing his hands to his head as if that would somehow help ease the pain. As soon as it began, it had ended, and Koth quickly picked his saber up, holding it out toward the frowning Sith.

"No, no, you can't quit that easily, I'm not done yet. Windu isn't going to succumb to the pain like that, come on." Kenobi scoffed, rolling his eyes. "You're a Jedi of the High Council, have some respect."

"Y-you are no match for Mace."

"In terms of sheer brute strength, you may be right. But my weapon of choice isn't a lightsaber." Obi-Wan slowly grinned, a sinister thing that made Master Koth take a step back. "How do you suppose the great Master Windu would look under my thrall?"

"That will _never_ happen! He's too strong for you!"

"Yes, he isn't at all like you, is he? But you've already been weakened, haven't you? Watching your friend have his mind irrevocably broken didn't exactly help your resolve, did it? You Jedi have such weak constitutions, how have you all survived in a galaxy like this..."

The pressure began again, a dull, throbbing pain settling inside his mind, and Koth felt his defenses tremble. The Jedi clenched his jaw and reached into the Force to find it cold, oppressive, and instead of balancing him, it left him shaken. He tightened his grip on his saber, his eyes narrowing at Kenobi, and with all the strength he had in him, he came at the Sith again. Obi-Wan may have claimed that his weapon was not the lightsaber, but the young Lord moved as if he was born to it. Every move of his was graceful, dangerously precise, highly effective and efficient, and Koth silently conceded that Kenobi was a superior duelist. At the moment, he was superior in every aspect, the Zabrak's defenses and resistance drained by months of watching his fellow succumb to the Sith's will, and his body weakened from his lack of practice. Even now, he was feeling exhaustion settle upon him as his muscles and lungs burned. The Sith, at this moment in time, was his better.

The dull ache in his mind suddenly ceased, replaced by the steady, growing heat of pleasure as it slowly snaked through his consciousness. Legs shaking, he dropped to his knees, his weapon still tightly clenched in his hand.

"See? Doesn't it feel nice to just _accept_ your betters?"

"You will _never_ be better than a Jedi, Sith, you'll never be better than _anyone_!" Koth hissed as his mind was lanced with pain, and he tried to strengthen his defenses, but he couldn't. His mental walls were as strong as they could get. He had built them to keep the Sith out of his mind, but now they were only serving to keep him _in_.

"Mm, you know that's not true. You feel it, deep inside you. Put your weapon away, you don't need it anymore."

Koth's body moved against his will, his thumb slowly turning the lightsaber off, and he howled in frustration, his mind fighting against the actions of his body to no avail. Kenobi held his hand out.

"Come, hand it to me."

Koth fought less this time, and the pain eased. He reached out, carefully putting his lightsaber into the Sith's hand, and though he was glaring at Kenobi defiantly, he felt a warm rush replacing the pain in his body. The Sith was rewarding him for submission, and in that moment, he didn't care where it came from, as long as it took the pain away. Koth closed his eyes, his mental defenses slipping ever so slightly, and he could feel the Sith reach into his mind. The Zabrak's eyes narrowed, and he tried to reenforce his mental walls, but it was too late; Kenobi had his foot in the door, and Koth didn't have the strength to close it.

"Is this how the Sith took you?" the Master asked softly, his voice a tremulous whisper and cracking under the strain that Kenobi was exerting upon him, and the blond seemed taken aback by the question.

"No."

"H-how then?"

Kenobi bit his lip, mulling the question over, thinking how best to respond, if he should respond at all. Golden eyes fell on Eeth, and he shivered under the appraising gaze, felt his defenses slip even further, gently held open by the commanding Lord. "The Sith didn't take me," he finally said, softly, his clipped accent making the words run elegantly off his tongue. "I took them. I _chose_ them. I was driven to them by the Jedi."

"We-"

"Did everything as you were supposed to, yes, I know." His eyes narrowed, glaring at the Council member as he raked through his mind, searching for the moment that Anakin was brought forth before the Masters for the first time, and he found it, replayed it over and over again, saw himself in the memory, scared and alone and in the grip of the Dark Side as his Master Qui-Gon betrayed him. He felt cold, raw fury flow through him and he gripped the Jedi's mind tightly, the Master pitching to the ground and screaming in pain under the harsh treatment, his mental defenses flaring to expel the intruder only hurting the Jedi more.

Kenobi kneeled, gripping the Master's face in his hands, golden eyes blazing as he forced the Zabrak to look at him. "You sat there and you _agreed_ to allow my Master to train that slave. You were one of the few at the time, but they all came around eventually. _How_ could you allow it when even _Master Yoda_ said the boy was dangerous?!"

"T-this is about Anakin?"

"No, this is about _me_! You wanted to know if the Sith broke me, if that's why I turned, but I fell because of the _Jedi_. You all betrayed me, again and again, and it never stopped. If I was stronger, maybe you would have listened. Maybe my Master wouldn't have abandoned me." Kenobi smirked slowly, his grip on the Jedi tightening as he pushed further into the Master's mind, and Koth groaned at the intrusion. "So I studied the Dark Side, and I became stronger. _So much stronger_."

"T-the Dark Side yields quick results, Obi-Wan, but it's _poison_."

"You're wrong. The Dark Side is the only way, the _Sith_ are the only way. You Jedi have left this galaxy weak and corrupt. Just _look_ at the state of your Republic!" Kenobi took a deep breath, calming himself as the Master's eyes slowly slid out of focus. "You asked why I fell. I fell for power, Eeth. I wanted power, all I could get. The Jedi would make me a slave to the Republic, and I wanted to be _free_."

The Master shook his head. "You're a slave to your desires, Kenobi, that isn't freedom."

"You know nothing about me. I was a Jedi, with a Jedi's control. I have mastered the Dark Side, it does not master me. That's what makes me a Lord of the Sith. I had to struggle for power, Eeth. I have endured unfathomable suffering that you could not possibly begin to understand, and it was all for power, _all of it_. And I would do it again."

Koth felt the cool grip in his mind, but he managed to keep his walls standing, fighting against Kenobi as he tried to tear them down. "The Sith Master is manipulating you, he must have turned you to him."

"...I did consider that." He pressed against the Jedi's walls, and he found them weakening, the Master clenching his jaw as he struggled to keep the Sith out. He inhaled deeply, and when he exhaled, Kenobi pushed through the Jedi's defenses, and the Sith grinned when he saw the shattering of his walls on Eeth Koth's face. "When my Master coaxed me to join him, I may have been... _influenced_ into taking that final step. But I cannot blame my fall on him. I fell on my own. I wanted power. I wanted the freedom of the Dark Side. I turned long, long before I ever met my Master, I just didn't know it. He gave it all to me, and more. If he influenced me toward the Sith, than he didn't need to push very hard. I wanted it all on my own. He just showed me the way."

Koth shivered as he looked at the Sith Lord before him, and Kenobi frowned when he felt the Jedi's touch on his mind. Nothing invasive, nothing intrusive, just...warm. Comforting. _Sympathetic_. "I'm sorry..."

"Don't you dare pity me, _Jedi_ ," he snarled, letting go of the Jedi and standing, glaring down at him with furious golden eyes, and the Master didn't have the strength to rise. "You have no defenses left, Koth. Let's see what you're hiding in that head of yours."

The Jedi gasped as the Sith pulled his mind open, looking at everything he had within him, and Koth shivered, closed his eyes and quietly submitted. There was no pain, just the dull pulse of pleasure as he felt Kenobi's satisfaction through the Force. Every now and again, the Sith would chuckle deeply or purr with interest when he found something he liked or something he could use, and the euphoria would rush over Koth, groaning with the warmth of his submission.

"There are _Sith holocrons_ in the Jedi Archives?" Kenobi flooded the Jedi with pleasure, watching the Master as he groaned, nodding swiftly. "Why would the Jedi keep Sith holocrons in the Holocron Vault?"

"F-for research..." He whimpered, grabbing hold of the Sith's robes. "In case the Sith returned, in case we needed to study them..."

"I was sent to find the Sith, I was never told about these."

"M-Master Yoda said they were too dangerous..."

"And you wouldn't be able to open them anyway." Kenobi grinned. "But I can. Look at me, Eeth." The Master obeyed instantly, his dark eyes out of focus. "You're a Master of the Council. You're going to get me those holocrons."

"...I-I can't, I'm-"

"You're going to get me those holocrons, Eeth." The full weight of the Dark Side was behind his words, and with no defenses left to resist, the Master quietly groaned.

"Y-yes..."

"You want to say it, Koth, come now. I can feel it in you. Just give in." Kenobi held his hand out to the Jedi, and the Master looked at it with hazy eyes filled with longing. "There are no Jedi here. Nobody will judge you for finding your place."

Koth whimpered softly as he took the Sith Lord's hand. " _Master_..."

Kenobi smirked as the Jedi shivered, a pleasured groan ripped from his throat as he submitted. "That's it...it will be easier tomorrow, dear, the first time is always the most difficult. You _will_ submit to me easier tomorrow, won't you?"

"Yes, Master..."

The Sith laid a long-fingered hand on the Zabrak's head, the Jedi purring in satisfaction at Kenobi's pleasure. "There's _so much_ I've learned from this holocron," he purred, the small pyramid called to his hand. "We're going to practice _all_ of it together..."

"Whatever you wish, Master..."

Kenobi grinned, the Jedi looking up at him with vacant eyes, and the Dark Side twisted around him like a serpent, dangerous and hungry, and Obi-Wan was more than willing to feed the beast.


	13. Padmé and the Padawan

"This," Quinlan Vos said, holding up the small projectile recovered from Senator Amidala's room, "is a Kamino Saberdart."

"Are you sure?" Mace asked, and Quinlan looked completely deadpan at the Master, his hand on his hip.

"Uh, yeah. I had to talk to a fat Besalisk in a seedy restaurant in the middle of a _tourist trap_. I don't just go to these places unless I know the info's good. The info is good."

Anakin chuckled at his Master's side, perhaps a bit too loudly, and Qui-Gon drove his elbow into his ribs. Anakin had never met the infamous Quinlan Vos, and the Kiffar Master was proving to be everything his Master had promised. Easy, laid back, and completely irreverent, Quinlan Vos had a rampant reputation as an incorrigible flirt, an unashamed womanizer, and a recreational alcoholic. His unique abilities made him essential to the Jedi Council, and he could always be relied on to complete dangerous undercover missions, though it was certain that he would leave explosions, unpaid bar tabs, and heartbroken women in his wake. There had been some discussion among the younger Knights of putting in their votes for Quinlan to sit on the High Council. It would _never_ happen, but the fact that they were talking was a testament to his notoriety.

"Who uses this sort of weapon?" Mace asked, and the Kiffar shrugged.

"Assassins."

Mace groaned. "You aren't being helpful."

"Sure I am. _You_ didn't know it was a Kamino Saberdart." Master Windu, growled, his teeth clenched, and Vos smiled brightly at the Council member's frustration, and Anakin watched the rogue Jedi closely. It was well known that Quinlan went out of his way to vex the Council; after all, he had been very close to Obi-Wan Kenobi before he died, and Qui-Gon had warned Anakin that he would feel a great deal of anger from the Kiffar. The Jedi Master had blamed the Council for his friend's death, and though the wound had healed, his resentment had not, and he took it out on them by being as frustrating as possible.

Qui-Gon smiled at the younger Master. "Did your research yield anything else?"

Quinlan grinned brightly at the taller man. "Yes, of course. It's filled with Malkite themfar, a lethal nerve toxin that works instantaneously, so it guarantees death. Missing a vital isn't a problem with this baby." He grinned, tossing it toward Mace Windu, and the Jedi leapt up out of his seat, the dart falling onto his chair, and the Master glared viciously at the grinning Kiffar. "Sorry, Master. _Was_ filled. I thought you'd want to see it!"

"Are you _quite_ finished?!"

"Nope!" He whipped out his holopad and with a swift flick across the screen, a map of the galaxy appearing before them. He closed one eye as if he were focusing on something very, very small, and he zoomed in on the western sector of the map. "Soooo...here we have where the Corellian Run enters the Outer Rim. And _here_ ," he pointed at a sector on the map, and it zoomed in again, "we have the Abrion Sector. And _here_!" He pointed to an empty space on the map. "This is Kamino."

The Council was silent for a while, each passing second making the suffering Mace Windu more and more frustrated. "There is _nothing_ there," he growled, and Quinlan looked at the map, eyes wide with shock.

" _What_?! Oh no, where did it go! It was here _just_ a moment ago!" He fished a flask out of his tunic, unscrewed the top and took a long drink from the container, smirking as the Council just shook their heads. "I swear, Masters, it must have disappeared!"

"Are you drunk, Quinlan?" Mace said tiredly, his strong fingers massaging his temples. "Again..."

"Not yet," he drawled, taking another swig from the flask, and he held it out to Qui-Gon. "Want some?"

The older Master took the container from the Kiffar's hand and drank from it as well, and Anakin began bouncing excitedly. "Master, can I have some too?!"

Qui-Gon handed the flask back to the Kiffar. "No, Anakin."

"But-"

"Hush now, the Masters are talking." Skywalker crossed his arms and pouted. He could always ask the Kiffar Master later.

"There is _nothing there, Quinlan_!" Mace snapped. He was ready to be rid of the rebellious Master

"I know. It's _missing_."

"A planet doesn't just _disappear_ from the Archive."

"Uh, yeah they do." Mace gave up. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. Reason would not prevail today. "Let's not forget the last time this happened." The room was fairly quiet before, but now, they could hear a pin drop. Qui-Gon tensed next to Anakin, and the young Skywalker stood closer to him.

"Are you alright?" he whispered, and Qui-Gon nodded, though it was clear that he was not.

"Did we forget?" Quinlan said softly, his voice tinted with bitterness. "That's alright, I can remind you. _Dromund Kaas_."

"Yes, we remember-"

"No you don't. You told us the planet didn't exist. _You_ said it was just a legend, but Obi-Wan and I found it. And we found the Sith there. Obi-Wan always said that someone deleted the planet from the Archive, and this whole ordeal _reeks_ of the same thing."

Nobody said anything until Qui-Gon quietly cleared his throat. "You said he believed the Sith did it."

"The Sith _did_ do it, Qui-Gon. Only a Jedi can delete things from the Archive, and we have a Jedi Master that is a _Sith Lord_. Dooku is the only one that could have done it, unless we have someone else running around here doing the Sith's dirty work, and I _really_ don't want to think about that."

Qui-Gon closed his eyes, his breath deep and even as he calmed his nerves, his Padawan gently touching his mind as he tried to comfort him. "You believe Dooku deleted things from the Archive before he left the Order so he could cover for his Sith Master."

"That isn't my idea, Master Jinn, it's Obi-Wan's. He also spoke to Nute Gunray before he fled Coruscant, and that slimy Neimoidian slug-rat had contact with the Sith. Dooku was covering up a _trail_. The Sith are involved with Kamino, and we need to be there."

"You're making a lot of assumptions, Quinlan..." Mace said softly, his voice defeated.

"Yeah, _correct_ assumptions." The Kiffar glared at the Masters. "You made me doubt Obi-Wan when we returned. You made me think that maybe, _just maybe_ , you knew better. Your story fit as well as his did, and then he _died_. Dooku murdered him. Obi-Wan was right the whole time. There's something on Kamino, Masters. The Force itself is showing us the way there. We need to go."

Anakin stepped closer to Qui-Gon. "Master, _he_ should be on the Council," he whispered, and the older Jedi chuckled softly.

"That will never happen. Quinlan has very, very vocally discussed his plans for becoming... _romantically entangled_ on all twelve seats of the Council."

"...w-what, with the same girl?"

"Don't count on it." Anakin blushed furiously, even more so when the Kiffar met his eyes and winked at him. Skywalker threw his hood over his head.

"You wanted me to find this assassin, and we're going to find him on Kamino." Quinlan crossed his arms, appraising the Masters. "So...I'm going."

"From Kamino, the Council will not keep you," Yoda said softly, chuckling when he saw the Kiffar's face fall. "To your lost planet, you must go. Discover what is hidden, you must."

"...you _want_ me to go?"

"Passionate, you are, about your friend. Distracted, it has made you. The discovery of the assassin, your task has always been."

"...well damn it." The Kiffar sighed, running his finger over the gold band tattoo on his face. "I wish I knew that _before_ I got in here, I wouldn't have asked to go." He bowed deeply. "I apologize, Master Yoda. I didn't mean to waste your time. I just wanted to waste everyone else's."

"You don't need to _try_ to do that, Quinlan," Mace drawled, and the Kiffar grinned widely.

"Aw, Mace, I didn't know you cared!" He pointed to the comlink on his wrist and silently mouthed 'call me,' and Windu just groaned. He came to expect this from Quinlan, and he couldn't possibly care any less at this moment.

"Qui-Gon," the weary Master Windu said, and the older Jedi turned his dark blue eyes on him. "You will continue to protect the Senator until the assassin is dealt with."

"That was the plan."

"She is being sent to her home on Naboo. Coruscant seems like a dangerous place for her at the moment."

"With all due respect, Master, _any place_ is a dangerous place for her."

"I know..." Mace sighed. He had enough of confrontational Jedi for the day. "But she has been convinced to return by Chancellor Palpatine. Not by me, so just...can you just make _something_ easy for me today? Please?"

Qui-Gon bowed deeply. "As you wish. Anakin and I will prepare to depart. We will be ready to leave this afternoon."

"May the Force be with you...please, take Quinlan when you leave..."

Smirking, the stalwart Qui-Gon took the Kiffar by the arm and led him out of the Chamber. "You know," he drawled, watching the notorious tracker yawn, "going out of your way to anger the Council isn't the best idea. They are in charge of where you're sent."

"True, but I've found that the more angry they are, the further away they send me. Longer missions make me a happy Jedi."

"How can you want to be away from the Temple for so long?" Anakin asked softly, and the Kiffar laughed loudly.

"Oh, _Qui-Gon_ , where did you get him?! He's so delightfully delicious! You do have a type, don't you?"

"One could say that, yes."

"Master Quinlan!" The Kiffar turned his lazy gaze to young Anakin Skywalker, an easy smile sliding on his face. "Master Quinlan, when do you leave for Kamino?"

"I don't know...when I want to, I guess."

"C-can we spend time with you?"

"Anakin," Qui-Gon softly chided. "Quinlan needs to prepare for-"

"No I don't." He grinned, leaning in toward the suddenly blushing Padawan. "Your place or mine, Skywalker..."

"Mine," Qui-Gon said softly, sighing heavily as he diverted the two Jedi down the hall toward his rooms. "I can't take you anywhere, Quinlan."

"I'm making it a tradition to seduce your Padawans, Jinn! Don't get in the way of such a beautiful thing."

"You're trying to tell me that _you_ seduced my Obi-Wan?"

Quinlan threw his hands in the air. "Woah, _sorry_ , I didn't know he was yours."

"You _know_ what I meant."

"...no, I didn't succeed with him, but it wasn't for lack of trying. He always was too good for me." Qui-Gon punched in the code to his room, the door sliding open with a soft hiss, and Quinlan walked in, flopping on the bed as if he owned the place. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and for a moment, Anakin had thought the Kiffar had fallen asleep. "He was always going on about some girl anyway."

"Satine," Qui-Gon said softly, lowering himself on to the bed next to Quinlan, his deep blue eyes far away.

"Mm, yeah, that's the one." The Kiffar propped himself up on his elbows and looked intently at Anakin, an interested, wicked smile slowly coming across his face. "Oh, _Skywalker_..."

"M-master Vos?"

"You been with a girl, Skywalker?" The Padawan's breath caught in his throat, and Anakin laughed nervously, high pitched and strained, and Quinlan grinned like an idiot as the teen squirmed. "Oh, you poor thing..."

"Anakin, will you get our things ready for the mission?" The Padawan jumped to his feet and quickly ran to the closet, grabbing two backpacks and starting to collect their things, but he kept his attention on the two Masters. Quinlan was said to have been the person closest to Kenobi before he died, and while Anakin did have an interest in his Master's former Padawan, he was more interested in Qui-Gon's road to healing.

"So Antar 4 was a mess," Quinlan drawled, and Qui-Gon flopped back onto the bed and groaned. "I was in the Outer Rim when it happened, and I heard about it way out there. People are _pissed_."

"I'm well aware, yes...things have not been good for the Order or the Republic. Knowing the right thing to do has been difficult, the Force has been turbulent and disturbed."

"Has it? It's been clear to me." Vos looked the older Master over, and Qui-Gon looked weary, his proud featured marked with grief and the strain of these difficult times. "...how have you been?"

"Well enough." Quinlan reached out and flicked the Master's ear, Qui-Gon hissing and glaring at the Kiffar, his features softening when he saw concern on the tattooed face. "...I was able to put it away for a while, but recently, there has been so much happening, and-"

"He's _everywhere_ , I know. I feel it too. Master Yoda says that we become one with the Force when we die, and I heard you're studying how to manifest consciousness after death. Maybe the Force is allowing him to speak to us now."

"Obi-Wan never had the chance to learn what I am studying."

"I'm not saying he did. I'm saying that the _Force_ is bringing him to us." Quinlan shrugged. "I've never been one to do things in the Jedi Way, you know that. Kenobi never died to me, I talk about him all the time. I talk _to_ him all the time. The Masters say I'm not letting go, but I say they can shove their stodgy opinions up their asses."

Qui-Gon smiled sadly, and Anakin could feel his presence in the Force tremble. "He would know what to do. If he were alive to continue, we would have already ended the Sith."

"He _was_ very close to finding the identity of the Sith Master. Maybe that's why Dooku killed him."

"Master?" Anakin asked softly, hands behind his back and head bowed respectfully. He hated to interrupt, but the pain in his Master was more than the Padawan could stand. "Everything's packed. We can leave whenever you're ready."

"What, so soon?" Quinlan asked, feigning hurt, his brown eyes mischievous. "And here I thought you wanted to spend time with me, Skywalker."

"Trust me, Master, I do, but our missions-"

"Your Senator isn't going anywhere, and neither is Kamino." He paused, eyes shifting. "At least, I hope it's not..."

"I don't want to keep the Senator waiting, that's all," the Padawan mumbled, and Quinlan grinned wickedly.

"Oh, _Qui-Gon_! He's adorable! Seriously, what's with you taking Padawans that go around getting attached to nobility?"

"Padmé's just a friend, and it's been ten years since I've seen her, I barely know her!" His voice was much higher pitched than intended, and Anakin flushed deeply as the Kiffar looked over him, a lazy grin on his face. The Master knew, of course, they _always_ knew...

"But you _want_ to know her, in more ways than one, I bet!"

"Not helpful, Quinlan," Qui-Gon admonished, and the Kiffar just laughed.

"My Master tried to discourage me too, Skywalker, as I'm sure Qui-Gon tried to discourage Obi-Wan. It doesn't work, you know."

"You needn't remind me, Quinlan Vos," Qui-Gon sighed, pinching his nose and slowly rising to his feet. "I was young once too. I rivaled you in terms of outright stupidity, but fortunately, _I_ outgrew it."

Quinlan laughed loudly, standing as well and patting the elder man on the back. "I won't be outgrowing that anytime soon. With any luck, I can drink and whore myself into an early grave."

"Don't even joke about that..."

"Look, Skywalker," the Kiffar draped his arm over the teen's shoulders, and Anakin flushed, looking up into his smirking face. Anakin wasn't a short man, but everyone around him was absolutely towering. He wondered if the Sithkiller had been this physically imposing as well. "You like this girl?" Despite himself, Skywalker slowly nodded. "Fine, like her. Love her, if you're inclined to, just don't be _stupid_ about it."

"A-a Jedi isn't supposed to-"

"I know, I know, no love, got it. That's what I do. But my good friend Obi-Wan loved his little Duchess until the day he died, and his emotions for her didn't poison him, they kept him noble and honest, and he could do it because he wasn't an idiot. Are you an idiot, Skywalker?"

"Force, I hope not."

Quinlan shrugged. "You only live once."

"...I just...don't even know her anymore..."

Quinlan smiled. "You trained him well, I think. At the very least, he's not totally stupid, but _Force_ , you've made him as uptight and boring as Obi-Wan." He stretched his tanned arms up in the air. "You're anxious to get going, I know, and I have to get to my missing planet. I'll contact you if I find anything."

Qui-Gon looked at him curiously. "Aren't you supposed to contact the Council?"

Quinlan shrugged. "You're more fun to talk to." The Kiffar grinned, waiving as he left and winking at the Padawan, and Anakin felt the color rising in his cheeks.

"He's...different," Anakin said softly after the door had closed, and his Master nodded.

"He certainly is." Skywalker frowned, looking his Master over, sensing his unease.

"Master?"

"I wonder if Satine ever knew how he felt...I certainly didn't." He laughed bitterly, shaking his head, his long hair slipping over his shoulders. "I learn more and more about him after he's dead. These are things I should have known while he lived..."

"Maybe...it's better if she doesn't know," Anakin said softly, and his Master's dark blue eyes fell on him. "I mean, now that he's gone...if I loved someone and found out she died, I don't know what I'd do."

"Hopefully you'll be smarter than me on that count, Anakin. I nearly fell to the Dark Side for exactly that."

Anakin Skywalker smiled. "That certainly won't happen to me, Master."

* * *

 

Anakin sat in a chair, his ankle crossed over his knee, staring intently at his datapad while Padmé paced furiously back and forth between her closet and her bed, tossing things carelessly into her bag. Master Quinlan had been right. Master Qui-Gon had been right. Everyone was right but him. Anakin knew his feelings for Padmé were purely lust, childhood fantasy turned into daydream and tarnished by teenage hormones, and he would control himself, deal with the matter... _privately_ , if necessary. He wouldn't expose his childhood friend to this lack of dignity.

He wasn't like Quinlan. Though he was driven by thoughts of Padmé and him discovering physical pleasures _together_ , he knew that wasn't what he wanted. He didn't know what he wanted, but he did know he wanted more for the Senator, and expected more from himself. So he would take the advice of the two Masters. Like Quinlan said, he wouldn't be stupid. Like Qui-Gon said, he would understand that the years change people. He was up to his ears in a hormonal drive for sex, and that was tainting what he actually wanted. He wanted to get close to Padmé. He wanted to really get to know her. He wanted... _friendship_. And while he sought to control himself, he was going to study.

He ran his finger over the datapad, starting the choppy, cobbled together holovid again. It was the recording from Kabal, and everything was shaky, confused, much of the footage coming from the personal datapad recordings of the rioters and frightened news crews. He couldn't see much, but what was there was chilling. The rapidly spinning, deadly lightsabers of the cyborg known as Grievous cutting toward the Jedi, the Knights holding rank behind the Master, the singular Padawan being quickly cut down, the swift slice that clove one Jedi nearly in two, the Knight that had bled out on the ground from the gruesome hole left where his arm should have been. The death of the other knight was not shown on the recording, and the holovid cut right after that, the mob scattering as a black hooded figure dropped down to the ground, the cyborg advancing on the lone Jedi Master.

Anakin frowned at the screen, tuning out the sounds of Padmé's frustrated ranting to her handmaiden. _The Negotiator_. Anakin realized that this may have been the only case of the elusive Separatist agent appearing on a recording, or at least on a recording that the Jedi Council had access to. A great many Jedi believed that the Negotiator was Sith, but there was absolutely no evidence to support it beyond a general feeling of unease and the shocking change of heart of the governments that he visited. It _was_ possible that they were wrong, that the Negotiator was simply exactly what his namesake implied, a skilled negotiator, but Anakin didn't think so. His cyborg was all the evidence he needed.

Grievous could wield up to four lightsabers at a time, and his proficiency with them was masterful. Skywalker couldn't see if it was programmed or trained, but he suspected that it was both, and the cyborg managed to seamlessly transition between six of the seven forms of lightsaber combat. Grievous needed a teacher; that level of mastery could simply not be achieved by a machine. It didn't leave many options to where Grievous got his training. Dooku could have certainly done it, but it was a very real possibility that the Negotiator could have provided training for the cyborg as well.

Padmé's restless pacing and her furious energy finally got to the quietly studying Jedi. Clearing his throat, he quietly asked, "Is Naboo really so bad? I remember it as extremely beautiful."

"It _is_ that bad!" the Senator snapped, and Skywalker reeled back slightly at her ferocity, and Padmé exhaled sharply, grabbing her hair and swiftly braiding the thick, brown mane. "I should be _here_. The Senate is voting on the Military Creation Act, and _I won't be here for it_. I'm an important part of the alliance against the act! I need to be here!"

"Don't you have people to stand in for you?"

" _Yes_ , but it's not the same! Presence is very important, and I carry a lot of weight in the Senate!"

Anakin smiled softly. "I didn't know you were so important here. You really care about all these...politics, huh?"

"You should too. The things that happen in the Senate effect us all, even the Jedi. _Especially_ the Jedi. You serve the Republic, after all." Anakin's eyes were wide and attentive, and the Senator sighed. If the younger man understood, he didn't show any sign of it. "If this act passes, then the Republic will have a standing army. War will be a certainty."

"I thought war was already a certainty, shouldn't we have an army so the Separatists don't just come in and smash the Republic to pieces with their droids?"

" _No_ , war can still be avoided! We're _trying_ to talk things out. If we have an army-"

"The Separatists already have an army, I have been told."

"They _do_ , and we can use that to our advantage." She took a deep breath and sat on the bed, her hands folded in her lap as she tried to calm herself. "...nobody _wants_ war. We're actually keeping a lot of our allies because right now, the Republic looks much more peaceful than the Separatists. We are willing to talk. They are ready to fight. See?"

Anakin smiled. "I understand."

"Do you?"

The Padawan nodded. "It's like the difference between the Sith and the Jedi."

The Senator slowly smiled, inching toward the edge of the bed to be closer to the teen. "I know the Jedi. I don't know the Sith."

Anakin grinned widely. Never did he think that he could have told Padmé something that she didn't already know, the woman was shockingly intelligent. "The Sith are the ancient enemies of the Jedi. We're dedicated to peace and harmony and study of the Force, but they are... _different_. They use and embrace the Dark Side of the Force. We're taught the Force is our companion and ally, and the Sith see it as a tool, or a weapon to be used. They seek war and crave violence."

Padmé was grinning now. "That is _exactly_ what we're dealing with now! We're trying to keep the Republic together. The Separatists are trying to tear it apart. You see how we cannot have an army?"

Anakin nodded. "I understand, yes. I think it's...very noble of you. To try and keep the peace, I mean. I can see how leaving would frustrate you."

"I just...don't want to be hiding while others do important work. It feels like cowardice."

"Master Qui-Gon always says that sometimes, it takes great strength to do nothing."

"You would advise I do _nothing_?"

"Well, no, but..." Anakin took a deep breath, averting his eyes from her angry ones. "To me, it seems like the easy path is the one the Separatists took. They raised an army. It would be easy for the Republic to raise one to match it. It's much harder to sit without one, isn't it?"

"W-well..."

"It's easy to strike a man that struck you first. It's hard to stay your hand." Anakin shrugged. "I struggle with that too, but Master Qui-Gon always says it, and he's _very_ wise."

Padmé stared at the Jedi, her big brown eyes seeming to burn a hole right through him, and Anakin had to look away again, though he could feel her intensity through the Force. "...I don't like it, but you're right." She laughed, a sweet, melodic thing that seemed to float through the air, and Anakin felt himself grow warm. "You really have grown up, Anakin. When did you get so wise?"

The Padawan blushed deeply, felt his heart race. "I-it's not me, it's my Master..."

"Do you like it?" she asked sweetly. "Your Jedi training, I mean."

"Each and every second." The response was immediate, instinctual, and honest, a big grin on his face as he saw a chance to talk about his training. "Master Qui-Gon is _powerful._ He's getting older, yes, but time has only made him stronger. And he's so wise! He'd be on the Council if he wasn't so... _him_." Anakin's face brightened, his chest puffing with pride. "But I wouldn't change him for anything. We're a good fit."

She smiled softly, but Anakin sensed something...off about it. "It's so good to hear that you're so happy. You seem so close."

"He's like the father I never had." He reached over and took her hand, a reflexive action of his when he felt of sadness and grief. He took Qui-Gon's hand often, the physical contact comforting to the older Jedi, and it allowed the Padawan to directly use the Force to sooth his Master. "Are you alright?"

"Y-yes, of course..." She looked away this time, wiggling slightly as she felt the teen's eyes on her. "...do you remember Obi-Wan?"

Anakin held his breath and nodded. "I don't _remember_ him, but we talk about him a lot. He's responsible for a lot of what the Jedi know about the current Sith. And Qui-Gon is..." Anakin shook his head, his grip on her hand tightening. "He took his death very badly. They weren't on good terms when he died, so..." Padmé bit her lip, her emotive eyes getting wetter, and Anakin faltered. She smiled sadly and shook her head.

"I'm sorry. That's just so awful. I knew things between them were tense, but I didn't know they were _bad_." The Senator sniffled and put her other hand over his, the teen slightly flushing as she did so. "Really, I'm so happy you and Qui-Gon get along so well. It was difficult seeing Obi-Wan struggle against him."

"...I didn't know you knew him well." At this, the Senator flushed deeply and averted his eyes, and the Jedi could feel the grief intensify, and underneath it, Anakin could sense want and longing. "You and I spent a lot of time together ten years ago, so..."

She laughed softly. "We did, didn't we? But you were so... _young_. Nine and fourteen is such a big difference."

"...nineteen and twenty four isn't so far."

"No, it isn't. But at the time, you were just a child. And Obi-Wan was..." She sighed wistfully. "He was one of my Jedi protectors. And he was soft spoken and noble and _so_ handsome." Anakin thought he would be jealous, but he just felt kinship with Padmé, and he laughed, the girl flushing deeply, a pout on her face as she let go of his hand. "It's not funny, Anakin!"

"No, no, it isn't!" He ran his hands over his face, trying to stifle his giggles. "I just thought...you and I were doing the same thing."

"...you thought Obi-Wan was handsome?"

"What? _No_! No, I...I-I thought _you_ were beautiful. The most beautiful thing I'd ever seen!"

Padmé smiled, something devious in her eyes, and Anakin felt the heat rise. "And now?"

The Jedi laughed nervously. "That goes without saying, doesn't it?"

She grinned. "I suppose it does." The Senator sighed, a faint smile on her lips. "I...suppose Obi-Wan was one of my first loves. Not _the_ first, I was in the Legislative Youth Program when I was twelve, and I met a boy named Palo."

"You were _twelve_?" Anakin snickered, and Padmé looked at him pointedly.

"You were _nine_."

Anakin flushed deeply and averted his eyes. "Point taken, Senator Amidala."

" _Obviously_ , it was just a childhood love, but it was the first. Then there was Obi-Wan."

"More of a crush?" Anakin couldn't decide if he wanted that or not. This was...confusing for him.

"Perhaps at first...a very severe one, at the very least. Even after the battle on Naboo, I thought about him often. I know he's a legend to you Jedi, but to me, he was...sweet. He taught me a little about the Jedi and the Force, and I always hoped he'd come back to teach me more."

"...I-I could teach you a little bit..."

She smiled brightly, and Anakin felt his heart skip a beat. "I'd be disappointed if you didn't."

"So...that was it?"

Padmé's face tightened with pain, and she slipped inside her own mind. "No...I saw him once again, two years after. I was a bit older and he...well, he wasn't the same man. He was... _bold_. Charismatic. Still sweet, still Obi-Wan, but there was something wilder about him, and..." She flushed deeply. "I shouldn't be telling you about this..."

"No, you _absolutely_ should. I really, really want to hear this." Padmé looked at him curiously, her thin eyebrow high as she regarded the Jedi, and Anakin felt himself flush slightly. "I've been helping Master Qui-Gon recover from his loss, and I've found myself really interested in him. Please." It wasn't a lie, not completely. He _did_ want to know as much as he could about the Sithkiller. After all, one day, he'd be a Sithkiller himself. He needed someone to aspire to, and if he could grab the affections of Senator Amidala in the process, _well_...that was a burden he'd be willing to bear.

Anakin shook his head. _Friendship, Anakin! Friendship!_

"It was a crush when I was young," she began slowly. "But when we saw each other again, I was sixteen. I was old enough to want something... _different_. You understand?"

"Oh, I absolutely do."

"I don't know if it was love, or just want and need, but when he died...it sure did feel like love." Anakin took her hand again, and she did not pull away. She was sad, yes, nostalgic even for her lost Jedi Knight, but the wound had healed. She had scars on her heart, but she had moved on.

They hardly moved when Qui-Gon came in, haggard and tired and clearly frustrated. "Come on, we're leaving."

Anakin smirked, standing from his seat and helping Padmé up. "You seem unbalanced, Master."

"I just heard it from the Temple Knights. They are _upset_ that they were called to guard Padmé while we were with the Council. They claim they are not _babysitters_ , which is obviously ridiculous, since they protect _younglings_."

Anakin stifled a laugh, snickering behind the hand covering his mouth. "Master Drallig has been pampering them, as you've always said."

"I _swear_ to the Force, that is the truth of it." He ran his fingers through his long hair, closing his eyes and calming himself. "Are you ready, Senator? We'll be taking a public starship to Naboo to keep a low profile." She nodded.

"I was informed." She grabbed her bag from the bed, and Qui-Gon swiftly took it from her, bowing and indicating toward the door, and the Senator swept out of the room, the Master following close behind, and Anakin smiled.

He and Padmé were similar, more so than he believed. It seemed to him that he, the Senator, and the Sithkiller were all on the same line, doing the same things. Obi-Wan had loved his Duchess, a woman his Code kept him from. Padmé had loved Obi-Wan, who looked to another noblewoman, and Anakin...

Well, he didn't _love_ Padmé, but he wanted her, even though she had looked to another Jedi before, and young Skywalker couldn't help but hope that one day, she may look back at him.


	14. Moving Pieces

"Are you certain?"

"Yes, Master. I've seen it in the Jedi."

Sidious crossed his arms, his mouth drawn in a contemplative frown, the black folds of his cloak draped over his thin, unassuming frame, but Lumis knew better. His Master was the most powerful Force user in the galaxy, despite his small stature, his body weakened with age. The Force did not care for the physical; it was drawn to something else, something deeper, something his Master had an abundance of.

"What is your level of control over him, Lumis?"

"I can make him mine in under a minute, Master." Sidious nodded.

"And how long does it last?"

"From the moment I leave him? Hours. The droids have recorded up to five, but it depends on how hard I work him. If I break him too much, we cannot use him. I've had to be careful."

Sidious was still for a moment, his breathing imperceptible, and Obi-Wan looked down at the man, his hood drawn back, and while he _resembled_ the Chancellor Palpatine, the man before him was Darth Sidious, his golden eyes pinpoints as he ran through the information his apprentice had provided him. "We may need a new Jedi for you to experiment with."

"I need a Master if it's for practice. The Knights are too easy."

"Can the Knights access the holocron Vault?"

"Yes, but not where they would keep the Sith holocrons."

Sidious frowned. "Soon enough, you will have more Jedi than even you will know what to do with. We are on th brink of war. Did you go to Kamino as I asked?"

"Yes, Master. Two hundred thousand clones are ready for deployment, and a million more are impending. Do you believe that to be sufficient?"

"It will have to do. I will have full power in the Senate within the week."

Kenobi smiled gently. "Congratulations are in order, I suspect. Shall I bring you a gift?"

"Sentimentality is a weakness, Lumis," The Sith Master growled, but there was no threat, no malice, no warning behind it, a small, slight smile tugging on the edge of his thin lips.

"Even if it's for my Master?"

"...perhaps not then. If you must, bring me the Sith holocrons from the Jedi Temple."

"I'll begin formulating a plan. I have so many options." Obi–Wan closed his eyes, sifting through the memories he had drawn out of the Jedi Master, feeling the Dark Side in the depths of the Jedi Temple pulse with life. He was so focused in the surge of the Dark Side that he did not feel the careful prodding of the Master upon his mind.

"Lumis. You are guarded."

Obi-Wan's yellow eyes slowly opened, drifted to his Master, and he bowed his head and kneeled before him. The Sith Master slowly came to stand behind him, his knobby fingers sliding into his golden hair, the shadowy hands of his Force presence gently combing through the apprentice's mind, and Kenobi leaned back against his Master, sighing in contentment.

"I see the holocron has been useful," Sidious said softly, gently observing Kenobi's thoughts and memories like the passive observer of a holovid. "Do you believe you possess the skill to break the Jedi?"

"Given enough time, I think I can break the best of them."

"You will not have time when war comes, Lumis. You will be engaging in battle with the Jedi on the field of war. Can you break them during battle?"

"...yes. When I engage Koth, he is easiest to break when he is wielding his lightsaber against me. His focus is on the fight, not his mind, and feelings of aggression give me a way to get in."

"Show me." Obi-Wan closed his eyes, bringing the memories to the forefront of his mind to give the Master easy access. "Koth is weak. He was hardly at his best when you faced him."

"And you see how easily I broke him. I learned from the holocron, my Master. I can break a Jedi during battle. The longer we fight, the easier it will be for me to bring them to their knees."

"You will need to draw your lightsaber against them."

Kenobi smirked. "I eagerly await the opportunity."

"You have been reluctant in the past, my child." Sidious' presence became probing, more invasive, and Obi-Wan groaned softly as the shadowy fingers raked through his open mind. "You have been given _several_ opportunities to kill Jedi, and you have passed up every single one."

"Master, I am the _Negotiator_. I cannot have _any_ death linked to me. I have been very careful about who dies around me, and how." Kenobi smirked, warmth running through him as he took pride in his own exploits, and he felt his Master softly gasp, the long fingers tightening in his hair. Sidious was in his mind, and Kenobi's feelings were flowing back into the Sith Master. Palpatine may have been holding Obi-Wan open, but the connection flowed both ways, and the Master was exposed to his Apprentice.

"You have done well to maintain discretion, Lumis."

Kenobi softly chuckled, bringing forth the memories of the broken Jedi, the death of Ixian, the soldiers that have killed themselves all because of his command, and he could feel his Master tremble, his body heating as he purred in satisfaction. "I find it _extremely_ satisfying to watch people kill themselves or their loved ones. Doing it myself is just... _hollow_. It's too easy."

"You are a testament to the Sith, my Apprentice." Kenobi sighed as the Master gently stroked his hair, his thin fingertips running across the young man's scalp. "We will not be able to meet in person for quite some time." Sidious felt Lumis quietly hold his breath. "You will be on your own for some time. As Supreme Chancellor, it will be difficult to find time to contact you exactly when I need you. You will need to use your own discretion in the upcoming war."

"...am I ready, Master?"

"What do you believe?"

"I'm ready."

Sidious nodded. "You _are_ ready. You will not be alone, of course. You will have Tyranus." The hand tightened in the thick blond hair, sending sharp pain through Kenobi, and he moaned softly. " _Watch him_ , my Apprentice. I sense treachery in him. He still has use to me, and I wish to keep him until I am ready for the war to end."

"I will report all my suspicions to you, my Master."

Sidious nodded, the fist in Kenobi's hand relaxing, returning to its petting. "As I said, I may not be in contact for long periods of time. Slave him to you, if you must."

Obi-Wan reached up and grabbed one of his Master's hands, bringing it to his lips and gently kissing the rough palm. " _Thank you_ , Master...I have been waiting for this for a _very_ long time..."

"Only if necessary, Lumis."

"Yes, my Master."

"As war draws closer, Tyranus will find himself further and further in the public light. His influence cannot be denied."

"I'll admit, he has proven to be remarkably effective. I was never one much for public speaking, I can't help but admire him for it."

Sidious smirked. "You are a shadow operative, Lumis. The seat of power was never for you."

"I agree, Master."

"Which is why you are watching Tyranus now. He _was_ meant for rule. He lusts for power, as you do, but it is on a grander scale. It makes him a _threat_ , a worthy placeholder until I found a more suitable apprentice, but a threat none the less." He tilted the young Sith's head up, and worshipful golden eyes gazed up at his Master. "I think it will benefit me for you to appear by Tyranus in his next public address. Hooded, of course, but I need to rile the Jedi. They have become reclusive since Antar 4. Their actions in that battle have made the people doubt their intentions, and the past few months have seen them slowly rise in esteem. They have returned to being peacekeepers, and I need them angry. When the Republic calls on them for war, I need them willing, and I feel that the threat of the Sith will drive them to it."

"They know Tyranus is Sith, Master."

"Many of them have been doubting that over the past few years."

Obi-Wan scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Dooku supposedly killed me, and they doubt he's Sith? I had _told_ them, you'd think they would see that as a confirmation."

Sidious nodded. "Many do. But many doubt. He has done little these past six years, and nothing of late to indicate his connection to the Sith."

Kenobi felt a flash of anger shoot through him, the feeling spreading through him to the Master behind him, and Sidious hissed, his hand balling in the sandy blond hair once again. "They are truly _pathetic_. Do they honestly never learn?"

"Never." The Master calmed his anger, sending the Force through his apprentice to sooth the origin of the Dark Side's wrath. Under the command of Sidious, Obi-Wan's rage abated, and he relaxed against the Sith Lord. "Their incompetence should please you. It will be their undoing."

"I know, Master, I'm just..."

"Bitter?"

He didn't move for a long while, Sidious searching through his mind to find the emotion his apprentice felt, but could not discern what it was. Kenobi's mind was turbulent, awash in emotions, and a single one did not surface. "It is not bitterness," he said slowly, his words carefully measured. "I do not regret my turn to the Sith. It would have happened even if the Council heeded me."

"But you wouldn't have fallen if Qui-Gon Jinn hadn't tossed you aside."

"...you're right. I wouldn't have." He took a deep breath, feeling his Master's presence calm and patient within him. "I look forward to the end of the Jedi. But they betrayed me. I have not forgotten, and I will _never_ forgive them. Knowing what I know now, if I had to do it all again, I would have run to you sooner."

"I know." Sidious ran his hands over Kenobi's neck, his shoulders, delighting in the soft, pleasured gasps of the apprentice as he slowly slipped out of his mind. "And now you must go."

Kenobi smiled, slumping forward and sighing as he stood. "When we are reunited, it will be in our new world."

" _My_ Empire."

" _Yes_..." He grabbed the hem of his Master's sleeve and brought it to his lips. "Is there anything you want me to do before the war?"

"Make your public appearance, than lay low. Leave the war-making to me and Tyranus."

"And during the war?"

Sidious grinned wickedly. "Be victorious, Darth Lumis."

"Midwanjontû châtsatul nu asha. You have made me powerful, my Master. I will not fail."

* * *

 

Viceroy Nute Gunray shrieked loudly, jumping out of his chair and stood shaking behind it as if the heavy wood could shield him. When Grievous stood and reverently bowed his head at the newcomer, the rest of the Separatist Council followed the Neimoidian's lead. Grievous, bowing to the _Negotiator_? This was an unholy union if they ever saw one. The hooded man inclined his head in response.

"I hear congratulations are in order, _General_ Grievous."

"Thank you, my Lord," the cyborg purred, pleased, respectful, and Dooku rolled his eyes. When he said to make peace with Grievous, this was _not_ what he had in mind. He imagined the violent tension ending, he didn't foresee the brutal cyborg licking the young Sith's boots in his subservience to him. Kenobi had an irritating habit of making allies everywhere he went, and though it did benefit the Separatist cause, it severely annoyed the elder Sith Lord.

"Is the army to your satisfaction?"

Grievous growled. "It will be. We have numbers, but droids are _useless_."

"Mm, I hear you like the MagnaGuard droids. I commissioned several full battalions of them to be made. They are more expensive, but I believe the Banking Clan provided the funding."

"W-we did, my Lord," San Hill said swiftly, hiding behind the chair.

"And the Techno Union _did_ begin building them, didn't they?" Golden eyes fell on Foreman Wat Tambor, and the Skakoan blanched, his ragged, nervous breath coming in metallic bursts through his respirator.

"We did, my Lord..."

Kenobi grinned at the cyborg. " _I_ don't like droids either. Hopefully these will suit you better. Also," he purred, "I went to oversee progress on the Malevolence. It is truly remarkable. I think you'll be pleased, Grievous."

"Oh, _Sith Hells_!" Dooku impatiently drummed his fingers on the table, his angry eyes meeting the amused yellow of Kenobi. "Why don't you just get to it and _marry_ him?"

Obi-Wan scoffed, laughing loudly, and the Council ducked behind their chairs. "Oh, you know I can't do that! I already married _you_!" The faintest of color came to the Count's face, and that was enough. Both Sith knew Kenobi had won. He looked about the room and scowled. "I hate this place..."

"You don't need to be here, Negotiator."

"Mm, I disagree. Where is everyone?" Obi-Wan smirked, his lazy gaze running over the room, and he stopped on Dooku's face, the Count's features drawn and confused. There was a difference in the other Sith, and Dooku didn't like it. He saw those yellow eyes glint in the shadows of his hood, and he could sense the malice there, quietly sending a single, simple request to the younger man through the Force.

_Please, don't._

That settled it for Kenobi. He had to. Grinning, he commanded, "Come on now, everyone sit." And they did. The Council members moved from behind the heavy chairs and sat obediently, their bodies slightly trembling under the strain of the Force. "Now, what were we discussing?"

"We were just finishing," Dooku snapped, standing up, and the others stood again.

"Now, _Dooku_ , I came all the way out here to Geonosis, this _cesspool_ of a planet, just to see our progress. War is coming, sweetheart, and I want to see my work. _Sit_." The Separatists all sat. Dooku's hands were planted firmly on the table, and Obi-Wan grinned with delight as he saw the other Sith's arms shake with the effort of resistance. He was struggling.

"M-my Lord," Nute Gunray began, but Kenobi held up his hand.

"My dear, the important people are _talking._ Hold your breath." The Neimoidian sucked in a sharp breath, his thin frame inflating as his chest expanded. "Don't you breathe now, understand?" Gunray nodded, and Kenobi flashed Dooku a cheery smile. "I have really missed this."

"You have never _stopped_ , how can you miss it?"

"It's been a few days. The discussion, Dooku. What was it about."

"Declaring war. The Republic is voting on raising a military. We are writing up the articles of the Confederacy."

"Ah, we're no longer just a Separatist movement?"

"We have the support, and the Republic is hostile." His brown eyes darted to the Neimoidian, the pathetic creature turning a deep green, his chest expanding and contracting rapidly as he struggled to not breathe. "That is what we are doing, _let him go_." Kenobi nodded, and with a slight wave of his hand, the Viceroy collapsed on the table, breathing quickly and sucking in air like a parched man at an oasis. "We will meet tonight, all of you, _leave_ ," Dooku snapped, and the Council quickly did as commanded, Gunray's Neimodian friends helping him from the room. The door slammed shut, and Dooku drew his lightsaber and pointed it at the Sith as he pulled his hood back, yawning and running his hand through his hair, unconcerned.

" _Every time_ ," Dooku snarled, slowly advancing. "Is this a joke to you?"

Kenobi scoffed. "You know this whole thing is a joke."

" _It isn't_! This is our Master's plan!"

"And all these men, _all of them_ , are already dead. When our Master has what he needs, the Confederacy will be crushed under the Empire's heel."

"That time is not _now_."

"No, but it will be soon."

"The way I see it," Dooku growled, "when the war starts, your time is _over_. Our Master needed you to bring worlds away from the Republic, and now you've done that. You are _useless_."

"Mm, that's cute." Kenobi smiled disarmingly, drawing and igniting his lightsaber in an instant when the Count lunged at him, their blades locking just before his face. "My Master wants me to be with you on your next address to the Separatist worlds." He grinned, effortlessly defending as Tyranus furiously attacked, his brown eyes melting to raging yellow.

"He did not! He wants you _hidden_."

"Datapad in my pocket says differently. He's recorded a message for you."

"I'll see it after I kill you."

"Master won't like that."

Dooku grinned wickedly. "Oh, I think he'll forgive me. You were an amusing distraction for him, but _I_ am his _apprentice._ "

The Count renewed his assault, but it was too late. Obi-Wan smirked, his blade deflecting the furious blows, but he was lost in the Force, using the open flow of the Dark Side to effortlessly slip undetected into Dooku's mind. He chuckled softly, and quietly issued the command to kneel, and, shaking, Darth Tyranus dropped to his knees, his yellow eyes pinpoints as he gazed at the other Sith in fear. Kenobi took the datapad out of his robe and handed it to the Count.

"I think," Kenobi drawled as Dooku carefully listened to the Sith Master's message, "that you will find our Master desires us to stick together."

"...so it would seem..."

"He wants to keep you safe, Dooku. That's going to be hard when there's a war on, so he's throwing me out into the field. It will change their focus. We need them spread thin if we're going to kill them all."

" _You_ don't kill Jedi," Dooku snarled, tossing the datapad back to the other Sith, and Obi-Wan deftly caught it.

"No, I don't. What I do is far, far worse." He watched the Count closely as the older man carefully tested his ability to stand, found himself unrestricted, and quickly got to his feet, the Force around him shifting as he threw up his defenses, eyes sliding back to their natural brown, and Kenobi felt a twinge of jealousy. He didn't have the ability to reclaim his own natural blue like Dooku and his Master could. The skill would have been useful had he ever wanted to infiltrate the Jedi. "I don't have the room on Serenno to keep all the Jedi I plan on breaking, so I'm relocating."

"... _what_."

Kenobi rolled his eyes. "I'm moving out, _dad_. Force help me, I thought you'd be _pleased_ to be rid of me."

"Don't get me wrong, I am. Exceedingly so." Dooku frowned, looking the petulant man over. "I have tried for _years_ to force you out of my home. I am simply...surprised. It is very sudden."

"What, do you need advanced notice?"

"Not at all. Where will you go?"

"Mustafar." Dooku frowned, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. Kenobi had a taste for finer things and luxuries, and Mustafar was neither of those things, but he knew better than to ask for an explanation. "When is your next address?"

"I was going to have one at the end of the week," Dooku said smoothly. "But since you are here, we can do it tonight. I don't want another Council meeting disrupted by your presence."

"...Dooku." The brown eyes shot to the other Sith and narrowed at the serious, sincere tone of the younger man. "I know we don't see eye to eye, since we hate each other, but if we are to make our Master's plan succeed, you and I must be united. He cannot do this without us."

For a moment, Kenobi saw those eyes flash dangerously, and in them, he saw desire, ambition, a chance to take advantage of a sign of weakness, and while Obi-Wan kept his face gentle and sincere, the Dark Side within him growled dangerously. His Master was right. There was treason within Dooku. He truly believed that he could defeat Darth Sidious with the right allies. The Count slowly smiled, and though it was very convincing, the Negotiator wasn't fooled.

"I will put aside our feud if you do, Lumis."

"Gladly." The young Sith extended his hand, and Dooku quickly took it, the physical contact allowing the two Sith Lords to more easily read each other, and both men bucked up against the strong, impenetrable walls of the other. Kenobi smirked. "Until the war begins, our Master requested that I lay low. I'll be staying on Mandalore. I'd love it if you don't need me in that time, but you do know how to contact me."

"I won't," the older man said swiftly. "Believe not or not, the Confederacy can run without you."

"If only that were true..." Obi-Wan sighed heavily, a smirk on his face as he looked at the older man. "We have a few hours until the evening. It may be the last time we get to spar. Do you want to?"

Dooku frowned, glaring at the man. "You _always_ complain when we do. Don't you say it's too easy to beat an old man?"

"...I'd forgotten that. You're right, I'll just go find Grievous." Kenobi didn't wait for the Count's outraged response. He just left in search of the cyborg.


	15. The Clones of Kamino

"I'm going to make her a droid!"

Qui-Gon stood in the doorway of the room in Padme's luxurious Naboo estate that he and Anakin would share. The Master had just come back from his walk around the perimeter, checking the security and making certain that everything seemed safe and secure, and he returned to see their room filled with wires and parts and plating and broken droids. Anakin's personal droid, a small, blue and white astromech droid called R2-D2, was rolling around in the limited space, beeping rapidly and prodding the broken droids for parts.

"A droid..." Qui-Gon repeated, tired blue eyes looking over the mess, and he couldn't keep from sighing. "Anakin, _why_."

"She's really into politics, right? I'm going to make her a protocol droid, it'll help her out in the Senate!"

"I'm sure she _has_ a droid already."

"Yeah, but mine will be _smarter_ ," Anakin chirped, shaking a wrench at the Master. The broken, degraded frame of a humanoid droid was laid out before the young Jedi. The thing was beyond repair, the innards looked ancient, and Qui-Gon thought that it was better suited for a trash heap on some forgotten planet. If anyone could fix it, could make it _worth_ fixing, it was Anakin.

"Where did you find this piece of rust?"

"It's a _masterpiece_!"

"It's starting an electric fire, Anakin." The Padawan's eyes shot to the wires of the neck, the things sparking and smoking as small fires began to burn in the chest cavity. R2 activated it's thrusters, flew over a heap of scrap, and activated a fire extinguisher, spraying the broken droid and Anakin with foam.

"Alright, okay, _enough, R2, stop it_!" The droid beeped and whistled in response, and the Padawan frowned. "Ha, ha, you're _funny_! This _isn't_ an improvement, it's a _mess_!" More beeping, and Anakin flushed. "Look, I _know_ I make messes, but...wait, why am I explaining myself to _you_?!"

"You _are_ going to clean this up before we sleep, aren't you?" the Master drawled, and Anakin nodded. "It is getting late enough as it is."

"I'll make sure your half of the room is clear," Anakin said swiftly, his hands busy fiddling inside the droid, removing things that were broken beyond repair and searching the scrap piles for things he could use to replace them. Qui-Gon sighed, lifting his hand and the scraps and broken droid rose into the air, and he moved it over to Anakin's bed and unceremoniously dropped them, the heavy pieces bouncing off the soft mattress. "Oh, come on, was that _really_ necessary, Master?"

"Anakin Skywalker, I am an _old man_ , and we have been traveling all day. I'm tired."

"Oh, come on, Master, you're not that old! You're _perfectly_ spry!"

"You aren't winning any points, my young Padawan. Build your droid, but please, keep it down."

"Yes, Master!"

Qui-Gon sighed, watching the teen for a moment before he shed his heavy cloak, unbuckled his belt and removed his tunic. He carefully folded the garments, placing his lightsaber on top of the pile and laid them on a nearby desk, his fingers ever so lightly running over the dark, deep scar on the right side of his strong stomach, a physical reminded of how close he had come to death that day on Naboo. He was just about to crawl into the large, comfortable bed when his comlink began to beep, and the Master had to fumble through his folded robes for his belt, pulling the device out and answering the call. The hologram before him displayed the image of a very wet, _very_ pleased Quinlan Vos.

Upon seeing the old Master, Quinlan's already foolish grin became wider and more foolish. " _Master Qui-Gon_! I'm so glad I caught you while you were _indecent_! Are you with the Senator? _Your Padawan_?!"

"Anakin is here, yes."

Quinlan was beaming, and even through the hologram, Qui-Gon could see the tracker's face light up. " _Oh Force_! Hold on, let me get comfortable! Qui-Gon Jinn, I will give you _anything_ you want if I can watch you two kiss!"

"... _what_! Quinlan, no!"

"Don't like being watched?" Quinlan purred, crossing his arms over his chest, his thick cloak soaked with water. "Don't worry, I get it."

"I'm not sleeping with my Padawan!"

"Riiiiight..." the Kiffar drawled, his eyebrow waggling suggestively. "You're sleeping _on_ him!"

"I give up. How Obi-Wan handled you for an entire year, I'll never know..."

"He sure _did_ handle me..."

"Quinlan!"

"He said that to me a lot."

"I imagine so..." Qui-Gon pinched the bridge of his nose, observing the other Master. "I know I will regret asking this, but why are you soaking?"

"Alright, get this. I had a fight with a bounty hunter in the rain! Kriffing hell, it rains _a lot_ on Kamino, I don't think it ever stops!"

"Wait, you're on _Kamino_?" Qui-Gon nearly dropped the datapad, fumbling with it for a moment and putting it on the desk. Even Anakin looked up, his hands absently working on the droid while he focused on the image of the Kiffar.

"Uh, yeah. I said I was going. You're not going to believe what's here, Qui-Gon. The Council won't either. That's why I called you, I..." Realization dawned on the Kiffar. "Oh, _that's_ why I contacted you." He frowned. "Damn it, Qui-Gon, it's your fault for distracting me, you sexy son of a bitch!"

"Your out of control libido is not my responsibility. _What's on Kamino_."

Quinlan removed the heavy, wet cloak and shivered, rubbing his arms and trying to warm up. "Cloners. The Kaminoans are cloners, and damn good ones. They've made an _army_ , Qui-Gon. All clones based on your Mandalorian assassin friend."

"An army?" he asked softly to nobody in particular. "What could they want with an army?"

"Nothing. They made it for the _Republic_."

"...what?" Qui-Gon felt the floor fall out from under him and he held his breath, his swift mind trying to connect the dots, struggling to make sense of the pieces he had that fit nothing else. "How is this possible? Did the Senate quietly commission an army?"

The hologram flickered. "No. These clones were commissioned by a Jedi. Master Sifo-Dyas. I pretended to know him, but I don't know him."

"I knew him," Qui-Gon said swiftly, his previous fatigue gone. "Master Sifo-Dyas died over ten years ago when his ship went down."

"Could he have commissioned this army? The Kaminoans say he commissioned the army for the Republic, but...Master, if it was over ten years ago, that was before the assault on Naboo, wasn't it?"

"Yes..." Qui-Gon took a deep breath and closed his eyes, remembering the dead Master as best he could. Any information he had may help the Kiffar in his mission. "Master Sifo-Dyas was on the Jedi High Council, but he was dismissed because of his...extreme views."

"Which were those?"

"...you have an unusual gift, Quinlan. Psychometry is rare, and were you not such a playboy, you'd find yourself on the Council because of your ability. Sifo-Dyas was in a similar situation, but his talent was the gift of foresight. They say he foresaw the galaxy at war, and he believed the Republic would need an army if it was going to survive." Qui-Gon took a deep breath and held it. "...I didn't think he'd actually _do_ it."

"Well, that solves _that_ mystery," Quinlan drawled. "But it _does_ get worse. The Kaminoans have been in contact with someone recently that claims to be affiliated with the Republic. And he was here _yesterday_."

"Who?!"

Quinlan shrugged. "There isn't a thing I haven't touched around here, and I get flashes of... _something_. I can't see what it is, or who it is, but it's there. Obi-Wan was sure there's a Sith Lord in the Senate, and I'm beginning to really believe it."

The old Master closed his eyes, breathing deep and even. "This calls a lot of what we know into question. We have been assuming Dooku is Sith, but-"

"He _is_ Sith, Qui-Gon. He killed Obi-Wan."

"Yes, _I know_." The old Master took a deep, frustrated breath. The more they learned, the less the pieces fit, the less sense any of this made. "If the Sith Master is in the Senate, why would Dooku be at the head of the Separatists?"

"Maybe he's breaking away," Quinlan said swiftly, shrugging and wringing out his hair. "Maybe he's had enough of his Master and is looking to kill him. I mean, that's sort of what the Sith do, isn't it?"

"I suppose..." Qui-Gon looked over at Anakin. The young Jedi had abandoned his work on the droid for the time being and was paying rapt attention to the datapad in his hand. "That may account for the Negotiator. He's been working with the Separatists for a long while. Maybe Dooku has been training him to be his apprentice when the current Master is dead."

"Maybe the Master _is_ dead. Maybe Dooku is looking to take this army for himself."

Qui-Gon scowled, crossed his arms over his bare chest, his quick mind running over every possibility they had discussed and all the ones they did not, but he quickly realized the attempt was pointless. There were too many possibilities, and they knew just enough to make speculation possible, but just little enough to reach any reasonable conclusion. "We're talking in circles. The path of the Sith remains elusive to us. We're just going to have to trust the Force to bring the answers to us in time."

Quinlan groaned loudly. "Oh, _come on_! That's what the Council's going to say to me, I don't need to hear it from you too!"

"There are too many factors at work here, Quin." The Kiffar smiled gently, his features softening considerably. Obi-Wan used to call him that. He liked that nickname. "We have to consider Dooku's role in all of this, the supposed Sith Master in the Senate, the kriffing Negotiator. It brings everything we know into question. I don't like this anymore than you're going to, but we need to go back to the beginning and reconsider what Obi-Wan discovered as well."

"...you're right, I don't like that."

"But we need to. If we don't look at this from every angle, consider every possibility, than the Sith will have us before we can figure out what is happening."

"Everything Obi-Wan discovered was kept on his datapad, and as you know, that was lost on Serenno, along with everything else." The Kiffar crossed his arms, a stubborn frown on his face. "But it makes sense if we assume he was right. _Everything_ makes sense if we accept he was correct. I mean..." Quinlan's eyes shifted, his features softening as he considered his words. "Everything fits...except the stuff that doesn't..." The Kiffar growled in irritation. "I wasn't made for puzzling things out, Qui-Gon! Kriffing Hell, this is why I had Obi-Wan!"

"Perhaps we should focus on what we _do_ know," Qui-Gon said softly, and the Kiffar nodded in agreement. "Let the Council talk circles around this."

"It _is_ what they're best at..."

"You said the clones are based on the assassin you were pursuing. Are you certain of this?"

Quinlan nodded, a sly smirk coming to his face, happy to be back into the realm of hard evidence and no speculation. "You bet. It's him. He's the clone template, he's been living here for...well, over ten years, I suspect."

"Do you have him in custody?"

The Kiffar scoffed. "No, of course not." Qui-Gon looked immensely disappointed, and Vos couldn't help but feel like he had disappointed his father. The old Master was worse than anything the Council could throw at him. "Oh, come on, don't look at me like that! It was _raining_ and wet and his ship was already on when I started to give chase! Not to mention his stupid clone baby that he had running after him! The kriffing thing was firing _rockets_! At me! I've never been so offended! Except for that one time-"

"You lost him..." Qui-Gon bemoaned, closing his eyes and rubbing his temples.

"I didn't _lose_ him, Qui-Gon, he just got away!" When the older Master glared at him, Quinlan threw his hands up defensively. "Hey, have a little faith in me, would you! I didn't just _let him go_ , I threw tracker on his ship! And I'm in his room right now tearing it to bits, see?" Quinlan turned the comlink around, allowing Qui-Gon a view of the room that had been unceremoniously torn to absolute pieces, just as the Kiffar had said. The mischievous Master came back into view. "I wanted to contact you first before I really got into looking at his junk, but if he _somehow_ notices that he's being traced, I should be able to find him anyway. If this guy is working for the Sith Master, or Dooku, or whoever, that's where he'll go. You don't just take your clone brat and fly unless you've got a place to go."

"...nicely done." He sighed. "I apologize for before, Quinlan, I shouldn't have been frustrated with you."

The Kiffar shrugged. "I'm used to it."

"Mm, I imagine you are."

"Master?" Anakin said hesitantly, his voice wavering with nerves, and Qui-Gon looked away from the other Master. "You need to see this," the Padawan said slowly, his voice hushed as if he were telling a secret. When his Master sighed, looked like he would object, he quickly cut in with "Dooku's giving a speech."

"...Quinlan, I need to go. Good luck with your investigation."

"I don't need luck, Qui-Gon, I'm _good_." With a cocky smirk, Quinlan cut the com, and Master Jinn came to quickly stand behind his Padawan, dark blue eyes focused on the datapad in his hand.

It was bad. Amazingly bad. Dooku was a brilliant speaker, a talented leader, a skilled and commanding presence, and he was in rare form here as he addressed the newly minted Confederacy of Independent Systems, the man decrying the Republic as ineffective, corrupt, and greedy. He claimed that the Senate held on to planets and systems as if they were owned, slaves to the illusion of democracy and freedom when they, in fact, had none, and this was no more apparent than in how the Separatists were treated when they desired to be free. They were met with violence. With the denial of their freedom. With the Senate desperately trying to hold on to worlds that desired to break away.

He pointed to the recent tragedy at Antar 4, where the peaceful Gotal were attacked by the brutal Jedi Order, who had abandoned their commitment to peace. He pointed to the bill in the Senate that would raise a Republic army against those that desired freedom. Dooku made the Separatists out to be peaceful, committed to freedom and independence, while the Republic tightened a slaver's grasp on the galaxy, and he drove his point home when he pointed to the black cloaked, hooded man at his side, the peaceful Negotiator that yearned to free the galaxy from the corruption of the Senate, and he did so without violence, a commitment to peace that embodied the Confederacy. It was time to begin anew, Dooku said. It was time for the Republic to let them go. War could still be avoided, and any system could follow suit, join the Confederacy when they were ready to be rid of their chains.

"This isn't good..." Qui-Gon whispered, his hand gripping the back of Anakin's chair tightly.

"Master, will the Senate vote in favor of the army? They can't now, not after this."

There was a loud, piercing scream out in the halls, and the Jedi jumped up to see what the trouble was, but the door swung open before they could leave, the panting, wrathful Padmé Amidala standing in the doorway. "Are you _watching this_?!"

"Yes, we just saw it," Anakin said swiftly, holding up his datapad. "Dooku's really raising the stakes, huh?"

" _He has an army_! How could he even pretend to be committed to peace?!" She stalked into the room, avoiding the heaps and heaps of scrap on Anakin's side and she threw herself on Qui-Gon's bed. "...we need someone like their Negotiator. I have _tried_ to be like that, I really have, but he's just...better at it." She sighed, covering her face with her hands. "Maybe I'm just too young."

"I don't think that's true," Anakin said softly, and Qui-Gon nodded beside him.

"The Negotiator may not be what he seems, Senator Amidala." The girl rolled her eyes.

"I know you Jedi don't trust him, but you have no cause to. He's _peaceful_ , Qui-Gon, he's doing what you Jedi _should_ be doing."

"Wait, hold on!" Anakin said sharply, rising from his chair. "That isn't fair, Padmé, the Jedi are doing all we can! We can't be held responsible for when things go wrong on missions the _Senate_ sends us on!"

"What, this is _our_ fault now?" Padmé hissed, rising to her feet and glaring at the teen. "The Jedi have been going around crying Sith Lord at anything that offends them! Sith Lords in the Senate, Dooku is a Sith Lord, the _Negotiator_ is a Sith Lord! Do you see what this looks like?!"

" _Listen_ ," Anakin snarled, striding to stand before the angry Senator, but Qui-Gon's strong hand shot out and grabbed him by the back of his neck, pulling him back down into his chair.

"You _will_ calm yourself, Anakin," the Master hissed, and his sharp blue eyes darted to the Senator. "And _you_. _Sit_." Padmé held her breath, her wide eyes shocked, and she slowly lowered herself back onto the bed. Qui-Gon closed his eyes, his bare chest slowly rising and falling as he touched the Force, surrendering his emotions and allowing calm to settle over him. " _This_ ," he finally said softly, "is exactly what Dooku aims to do. He wants to tear us apart, and this is how he's going to do this. It isn't with his actions, it's with his words. They are _poison_ , each and every one of them. If we cannot be united, than the Separatists have already won." Neither of the young people said anything, they just bowed their heads. "Anakin." The Padawan looked up at his Master. "Apologize."

"B-but-"

"No," Padmé said softly, her brown eyes averted from the Jedi. "I started this. I'm sorry, really I am, I just..."

"Everything's just gone wrong, right?" Anakin said softly, and the Senator nodded. "None of this should be happening. The Invasion of Naboo, the return of the Sith, the Separatist Crisis, the Sithkiller's death...all of it is just... _wrong_. The Force is out of balance. We need to set it right."

"We can't just balance the Force, Anakin," Qui-Gon said softly. "The Force is its own living, breathing thing. All we can do is follow its course. In time, it will show us the way so that we may aid in its balance. This isn't something you can just _fix_."

"But the Sith are forcing it out of balance! How can we follow the Force when it is turbulent and clouded?"

"It always finds a way to speak to us. Close your eyes and listen, Just because there is darkness doesn't mean _all_ is darkness."

Anakin said nothing. He just nodded, bowed his head and contemplated his Master, the Force, and everything that had been happening. "Qui-Gon?" Padmé said softly, and the tall man looked at her, his dark blue eyes weary. "What would it mean if the Negotiator was what you believe?"

"It would mean he is using the Force to bend people to his will. They come to his side because they are being made to."

"...like your Jedi mind trick?" The dark blue eyes sharpened and looked the small woman over.

"How do you know about that?"

"Obi-Wan taught me a little about the Force. He showed me."

" _Showed_ you?"

"Yes," she affirmed, nodding and keeping her intense gaze locked with the Master's. "He said he had been practicing. He said..." She bit her lip, searching her memory for the images of her Jedi protector. "He said a Jedi could use the Force to influence someone, but it doesn't work on strong willed or very smart people."

"That is true..."

"But he also said that if you push hard enough, even the intelligent and strong-willed will comply."

"Well, _yes_ , but-"

"He did it to me."

Qui-Gon was at a loss for words, didn't know he was holding his breath until his chest began to ache. Obi-Wan did that? _His_ Obi-Wan? It didn't seem possible. Force suggestion was one thing, gently influencing someone who was open to persuasion to believe something else, and it was a valuable tool of the Jedi. Qui-Gon himself was a practitioner of it, and he used it regularly to avoid conflict when necessary. He _had_ taught Obi-Wan how to do it as well, and the boy was talented, but...

It wasn't like the studious, quiet and cautious Obi-Wan to push hard at any living thing, and that he managed to succeed doing it to Padmé, who wasn't in the least weak willed, was startling. Slowly, he shook his head. "That is...unlike him."

"Well, I _did_ ask him to show me. He actually used me to get me to _stop_ asking." She shrugged. "It didn't last for long, and I knew he did it. He said the effect wouldn't last because I was too strong to be influenced." She frowned, looking at the distressed older man. Even she could feel his unease, and she thought she may have known why. "Qui-Gon. If the Negotiator is what you seem to believe, than _how_ is he doing what he is? If the Force can sway only the suggestible, than he shouldn't be able to do any of this. People don't rise to power by being easily swayed or stupid."

"The Negotiator isn't using the Force, Padmé, he's _abusing_ it." His cold, dark blue eyes locked with hers, and the Senator shivered. "The Force is a living, breathing thing, but he has weaponized it. This Jedi mind trick, as you like to call it, is a tool of the Jedi, a natural, easy use of the Force, but that isn't what he's doing. He isn't suggesting, he is _dominating_. Obi-Wan pushed slightly too hard with you, and for a moment, you did as he asked. The Negotiator is doing exactly that, but on a much grander scale."

"...he and I both agreed that this power was dangerous in the wrong hands."

"And it _is_ in the wrong hands, Padmé."

She took a deep breath, looked over her two Jedi guardians, and smiled sadly. "I suppose calling to meet with him may not be the best idea."

"That would be extremely ill-advised. I doubt he'd even agree to it."

"...Master?" Both pairs of eyes drifted to Anakin, the teen's face smiling deviously the way it always did when he struck on an idea, and nine times out of ten, those ideas were reckless, foolish, extremely dangerous and indisputably brilliant. "I think that might be an _excellent_ idea."

"...you want to _meet_ with the Negotiator." Qui-Gon said slowly, deadpan, as if he could not believe the words he was hearing. "Anakin, you understand that this man is likely a _Sith Lord_."

"I know. Hear me out." He took a deep breath, his bright blue eyes shooting to Padmé, her face interested and listening, and he found his strength to continue. "The Senate asks to meet with him to discuss terms. He's probably going to deny us, which makes him look like a hypocrite. It can discredit him and the Separatists."

"That's an awful plan, Anakin," Qui-Gon said swiftly. "What if he agrees? We would be welcoming the Negotiator into the heart of the Republic, he'd _destroy_ us."

"If he comes to us, we do it on neutral ground, with conditions. The Jedi must be present, and...a-and he must be in a containment field."

Qui-Gon frowned. "We can't do that, Anakin."

"What's a containment field?" Padmé asked softly.

"It's an _extremely_ expensive device that's used to hold Force users. It effectively disrupts our connection to the Force. And it's can be used for _torture_."

"But we won't do that!"

" _We_ may not, Anakin. Others will not be so kind."

"Well, he's _Sith_ , isn't he? Does he really deserve kindness?"

" _Anakin_!"

"I'm not certain the Negotiator is what you say," Padmé said softly, crossing her arms. "I like the idea of meeting with him. Under heavy guard, of course, but I think we should call him out. Dooku's speech has given the Republic a chance to respond, and I think we should respond with negotiations." She nodded, pleased with herself. "I'm going to draft up the proposal."

"Padmé, please-"

"Qui-Gon. If there's a chance for peace, we must try. The Jedi will protect us, won't they?"

Qui-Gon hung his head. "...of course, Senator Amidala." She smiled, and left the room, and there was silence.

"...Master-"

" _Don't_ , Anakin." Qui-Gon dropped onto his bed, burying his face in his hands. This was like his last mission guarding royalty, but with less dirt. Like Satine, Padmé was an idealist. Unlike Obi-Wan, however, Anakin was an enabler. Obi-Wan had challenged Satine, debated with her frequently, argued with her often, and his pragmatism and logic clashed with her lofty ideals, and at the end of the day, they came away with a view that was reasonable and benefitted the most people. It was the perfect combination of fire and ice, and they balanced each other.

Anakin wasn't like that. Like Padmé, the boy was idealistic and passionate, and the two together was like adding fuel to a fire that already burned too hot.

"...Master?"

"Work on your droid or go to bed, Anakin."

"...would the Negotiator try anything in the presence of Master Yoda?"

"I don't know. I don't know the Negotiator, we don't know _anything_ about him."

"...we know he's smart, Master."

Qui-Gon breathed deeply, laying back on the bed and shutting his eyes. "Let's pretend this absolutely _asinine_ idea somehow happens. The Negotiator is smart, yes. Frightfully so. You may think he will not show up, but I disagree. He's smart enough to sense a trap. He will show up to save face."

"Then we get him!"

"And then the _Republic_ is vilified. We offered a branch of peace, but held a blaster in the other hand. If he agrees to the meeting, he will be _completely_ safe. As you said, he is smart, but he is also bold. He would trust that he would be safe, and he would be."

"W-well, if we can't trap him, we can still disrupt his connection to the Force!"

"No, we can't. A containment field-"

"What if it's not a containment field? What if we build a _room_. A whole room that can block the Force."

"...maybe."

"And as you said, he's smart. He wouldn't try anything in the presence of Master Yoda, he's too strong, even for him."

Qui-Gon inhaled deeply, his bare chest rising and falling with each even breath. "...I will consider your ideas, Anakin." The Padawan smiled and returned to working on the droid, but rest would not take Qui-Gon Jinn. His mind was disturbed by thoughts of Obi-Wan Kenobi and the Negotiator. There was so much he didn't know about his former Padawan, and the more he learned, the more uneasy he felt. And the Negotiator, hidden in shadows, seemed to be drawing closer. The man was nearly within reach, and if the Jedi played their cards right, they may have a chance to meet their enemy and learn about him.


	16. Trust

_Chapter 16: Trust_

Obi-Wan sat on a large, soft sofa on the balcony of Sundari Palace that overlooked the beautiful lights of a thriving city at night, a glass of Mandallian Narcolethe in one hand and the small, elegant hand of his Satine in the other. He was taking his time with the liquor, as the Mandalorian drink was known throughout the galaxy as being _extremely_ potent, and Kenobi never handled alcohol terribly well. He had improved a great deal from when he was younger, as his lavish lifestyle under the indulgent watch of the Sith led him to drink often, and Dooku rarely went an evening without a glass of _something_ in hand. Satine, however, was raised on the stuff, and the woman was well on her way to finishing her third glass, and she barely seemed to be feeling the effects at all.

Kenobi's comlink began to beep, and the Sith ignored it as the Duchess pressed her self closer to her lover, nestling herself between his arm and his strong chest. The comlink beeped incessantly.

"You have certainly become busy," she said softly, squeezing his hand, and he rolled his eyes. He had been on Mandalore for three days now, and the com rang nearly four times every hour, day or night. He would have destroyed the cursed thing, but galactic events required him to keep it close. That afternoon, the Senate had given the Chancellor Palpatine emergency powers, and he had become the Supreme Chancellor. His Master may need him, so the com stayed close.

It was never Darth Sidious.

"We're going to ignore it, my love. It will stop soon."

"It will start again. What if it's important?"

Obi-Wan growled softly, setting down his half empty glass and answering the call.

"Lumis," the deep voice on the other end said, the sound distorted by the hiss and static of the com's speaker, and Kenobi's hand tightened around the device. "I can't find my reading glasses. Have you seen them."

"No, _Tyranus_ , I haven't. Honestly, this is getting childish. I said call me if you need me, not if you need to inconvenience me."

"I do need you. I can't find my reading glasses. I have an array of vastly important papers I must read, and I can't do anything without them. You can't be doing anything important, come help me find them."

"I _am_ doing something important, I'm with _my lover_."

"Oh!" came the voice on the other end, mock surprise dripping off the exclamation, and Obi-Wan ground his teeth together. "I'm so sorry, I had no idea! Hello, Satine!"

"Hello, Tyranus," the Duchess chirped, leaning over her suffering lover to speak into the com. "Are you staying away from the war?"

"I am trying, my dear. I'm afraid we may be brought into it. We aren't at war quite yet. There may be time to sue for peace."

"You could always come to Mandalore," she offered, and Kenobi held the com high above her head, hissing in frustration.

"No, sweetheart, he can't."

She put her glass down and planted her hands on the Sith's chest, pushing up to bring herself closer to the comlink. " _Lumis_ and I could be together all the time!"

"And wouldn't that be _lovely._ I thank you for the offer, Duchess, but I must decline. My Master has work for me to do. After the war, perhaps."

"J'us aras koshûjont isâsis plejada kia erzinti nun," Kenobi snarled into the com, Ancient Sith rolling off his tongue like he was born to speak it, and Dooku laughed deeply. _You were born into this galaxy to vex me_.

"Teznnuo j'us mielis." _Just for you, darling._ With a growl, Kenobi cut the comlink and tossed it to the side, knocking Satine's hands off his chest, and she fell against him, his strong arm wrapping around her waist and he nipped at her ear.

"He calls you a great deal," Satine said softly, reaching behind her to stroke Kenobi's bearded cheek.

"Mmm."

"...couldn't you stay here, Obi?" Kenobi inhaled deeply, sighing as his senses were flooded with the sweet, floral smell of her hair. "War is inevitable now. I don't want you caught up in it."

"I need to fight, Satine." He kissed her cheek. "For the good of the galaxy."

" _War_ isn't good for the galaxy."

"No, but it has come to that. We can't all be you, my dear. Someone needs to fight so we may have peace."

"Do you hear how stupid that sounds?"

"No government _ever_ has come to power peacefully. Not even yours."

" _Mine_ was different, Obi-Wan, _mine_ was a civil war, and I objected to it!"

"This is a civil war as well! Something new will come out of it, something _better!_ "

"You can't know that!"

"No, all I can do is trust in the Force to guide my path, and this is the only way!"

Satine's blue eyes narrowed and she pulled away from the man, the passion rising in both of them until it was nearly all-consuming. "...does this count as politics?" she drawled slowly, voice tight with anger.

"I think it might." Satine nodded and turned away from Obi-Wan, her shoulders rising and falling with her deep, calming breaths, and Kenobi did the same. They had quickly decided that, during his extended stay, politics was a subject that was dangerous for the two of them to touch. They disagreed on nearly every aspect, and their tempers would quickly get the better of them, passions rising in a violent crescendo that _always_ ended in crushing kisses and rough, savage intercourse that left the Duchess bruised from the Sith's tight grip and Kenobi bloodied from raking nails.

It wasn't that they didn't enjoy it. They _did_ , a great deal, much more than either of them cared to admit, but in just three days, it had become a problem. Both of them could talk politics all day, and when they were apart, Satine _did_ talk politics for a living, Kenobi was surrounded by politics, and both had a great deal to say when they were together. Which led to their problem.

They were getting _nothing_ done.

Things would start civilly enough, but they would degrade quickly, the conversations easily turning political, which led to arguing, their passions rising and culminating in loud, vicious coupling, and with their passions spent, the process began again. His first day on his pre-war sabbatical was spent violently in bed, the evening finding the two lovers bruised and bloodied and battered, the white sheets stained with long slashes of red, wet blood from the Sith Lord's back, and they both agreed that they could not continue in this way. Her staff was going to ask questions.

Which they _did_ , but only once. After all, the punctual, responsible Satine was absent from several meetings that day, and Almec was forced to stand in for her, and he had been worried. When he went to see her between meetings that afternoon, it had been impossible, as the woman had locked herself in her rooms, the noises from within unmistakable. He had always known the Duchess Satine to be quiet, collected, and adverse to violence, but the sounds coming from her chambers were anything but. However, the woman _was_ Mandalorian, and though she may have been a pacifist, breeding violence out of the Mandalorians simply wasn't possible. When Almec asked her the next day if she was alright, she simply smirked, a coy, telling thing, and the matter wasn't brought up again.

Satine reached for her glass and quickly drained the little that remained, grabbing for the open bottle and pouring herself half a glass more. Kenobi reached for his own glass, slowly drinking the golden liquid and putting it down when the burning sensation in his nose became too much. Much of the galaxy considered the signature Mandalorian drink to be good for little more than ship fuel, but Obi-Wan didn't dislike it. After all, it dulled the two lovers enough to make their passions less heedless, more gentle. Neither of them knew when Kenobi would be forced to leave, torn away from peaceful Mandalore and thrust into war, and it was making the already passionate people desperate and possessive.

The Duchess settled against her lover again, sighing happily when his long fingers lightly brushed down her arm. "Lumis..."

"Hmm?"

"Is it easy for you to be called that?"

"Yes. I've taken to the name well, I think." He smirked, pulling her close. "Do you like it?"

"It's...fitting, to be sure, but you'll always be Obi-Wan to me."

He smiled softly, holding her closely, possessively. "I don't expect to ever be anything but that to you."

"Do the others know who you really are?"

Kenobi held his breath as he thought, feeling the slow, even heartbeat of the Duchess against his chest. Satine was clever, exceedingly so, far more than what was good for her, and he wondered how much the woman actually knew. He certainly didn't tell her anything _specific_ ; his actual activities were a closely guarded secret, and not just because he was uncertain if she would approve. But she did know some things. It wasn't possible to keep all his activities a secret when the two of them lay in bed together, relaxed and unguarded. Slowly, she learned, and, Kenobi imagined, she was beginning to piece things together. It wasn't difficult to do if one knew that Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Knight, didn't die on Serenno.

"They do know, yes," he said finally, quietly, touching her mind with the Force to gauge her reaction, but there was nothing. She already knew the answer. He frowned; this was an interrogation. Satine was digging for information. "It's difficult to keep things from my Master. He can read minds."

"Like you?"

"Like me, yes..." The comlink beeped again, and with a growl, Kenobi picked it up. "Yes..."

"Lumis, have you misplaced the medical droid again?" Dooku drawled, amused, and Obi-Wan furiously cut the call.

"What about him?" Satine asked, smiling and wriggling into a position where she could drape her arm over the Sith's chest. "Does he know?"

"He was there when I left the Jedi, so yes, he knows."

"So _he's_ responsible for the incident." Kenobi's yellow eyes drifted to the cold, hard blue of Satine, and he bit his lip. She was peaceful before, but now she was angry. "The Jedi had claimed that Count Dooku was responsible for your death, and that he was a _Sith Lord_. Just how many people were there on Serenno that day?"

"...does this count as politics?"

"No, this is _personal_!" She growled fiercely, and Kenobi scooted away as much as he was able, but the Mandalorian was unrelenting and aggressive, and she placed her tiny hand on the strong chest and pressed down hard. He wasn't pinned, but he did feel trapped. "Talk, Obi-Wan Kenobi. I know more than you think, so you had better not lie to me."

"Satine, _darling_..."

"And truth by omission is still _lying_." Kenobi touched her mind, eyes narrowing as he buried himself deep in her consciousness, and the woman gasped, her pupils narrowing into pinpoints at the intrusion. She could not feel the Force, but she knew when her lover's presence was within her. He had taught her to feel for it for more... _pleasurable_ activities, but she was using that knowledge now.

And she was right. As Obi-Wan perused her knowledge, he found far more than he expected, far more than he had taught her. Satine had done her research. But still, she hadn't left him yet, still accepted him within her, still burned with love for him, and...something else he could not place. If she was going to leave him, it could have happened a hundred times before, and with war just around the bend...it seemed as good a time as any to be as truthful as he could.

"What are you doing," she demanded softly, her delicate hand balling into the fine cloth of his tunic, and he reached up to rub at the tense muscles of her long, slender neck.

"I'm just...looking, my dear, I'm not altering anything."

"But you could." His gold eyes locked with hers, and Kenobi saw defiance in the clear blue, along with the slightest touch of fear.

"But I _won't_. Do you trust me?"

"I don't know," the Duchess said softly, and that hurt the Sith more than he thought it could. "Do _you_ trust _me?_ "

He slowly nodded, choking out a quiet, "Yes." Without trust, there could be no love, and he loved Satine, he _did_. It went beyond possession. She was his, _yes_ , all his, all of her, _forever_ , but he was also hers. Perhaps she felt the same. Perhaps she was willing to look beyond the things he had done to keep what was hers, just as he was.

"There were seven of us there that day," he said quietly, slowly slipping out of her mind, but keeping his senses wrapped around her. She was easy enough to read, but Satine was a politician, and therefore a remarkable actress. He had to be sure.

"Four Jedi dead, with you left alive. Dooku was one of them. Who was the other."

He _could_ have said the other was Tyranus, could have easily made the Count and the Sith different people, but before he knew what he was doing, he had whispered, "My Master."

"Tyranus isn't your Master." Kenobi shook his head. "Which makes Dooku Tyranus." A nod, and her blue eyes narrowed in anger. "So this whole time, the Jedi have been correct about Dooku's connection to the Sith."

"Satine, you don't know anything about-" She slapped him _hard_ , his cheek stinging keenly and becoming a sharply painful throbbing. "You are _certainly_ a fan of striking me..."

"Only when you _deserve it_. What are you doing getting mixed up with the _Sith, Obi-Wan_?!"

"My love, the Sith _aren't_ what they seem! They certainly aren't what the Jedi seem to think, the Jedi don't know _anything_!"

"They know about the Force, Obi, they are _wise_!"

"About only a _very_ small part of it! The Force is much more than just..." He look a deep breath, his yellow eyes drifting away from her, but she grabbed his bearded chin and forced his gaze back to her. "There are two sides to the Force, and the Jedi only teach one part. My new studies expose me to all of it."

"I don't pretend to know the Force," the Duchess said softly, her long fingers gently touching the cheek she had struck, "but I do know the Jedi talk of the Dark Side like it's _dangerous_."

"It is to those who aren't strong enough to control it."

"And you are?"

" _Oh yes_." Her sharp features relaxed slightly, but she was still guarded, cautious, but he could feel that she believed him. "The Sith," Kenobi began slowly, carefully, reaching for her hand and gently taking it in his, "have been allies of the Mandalorians for a very, very long time. It's natural we are together, our cultures _belong_ together."

"The Mandalorians also fought _against_ the Sith. I do know my own history, and, I believe, when my people raised arms against the Sith, they were _annihilated_."

"Not because of the Mandalorians, dear, the Sith killed themselves." Kenobi smirked, gently placing his hand under her chin and running his thumb over the Duchess' lips. "Is that what you would do, Satine? Destroy the Sith?"

She shook her head. "The Mandalorians have changed."

"So have the Sith." The com beeped again. With a vicious snarl, Kenobi answered it, and before Dooku had a chance to say anything, he hissed, "Nu valiakots tu'iea dvasi negu j'us mrias delsus xelami iruzpramas nuozhol." _I will break your mind before I kill you, and you will beg for it._ The Sith deactivated the com, it's flashing light dying as the device powered off. If Sidious wanted him, it could wait until morning. At this moment, the war could wait.

"What do the Sith want?" the Duchess asked softly, and Obi-Wan felt at her mind. She was...curious, not afraid. That was good.

"Peace. Order. We want to see the corruption of the Republic purged and replaced with something that works."

"Oh, and _you_ would purge the Republic, would you?"

"If necessary..." Kenobi shrugged. "We have presented an alternative, as have you, dear. The Republic will have none of it. You have seen what happened when systems began breaking away. The Senate was _furious_. They are willing to go to war over this."

"So is the Confederacy!"

" _Yes_ , they are willing, but they don't _want_ it. The Republic is forcing their hands, you saw what happened on Antar 4."

At that, Satine bit her lip and looked away from him, and Kenobi could feel her outrage. Finally, she agreed with him. Obi-Wan could work with this. "...didn't an extremist group take over the government on the moon first?"

The Sith shrugged. "I don't know what actually happened, I wasn't there. I know what the _Republic_ said happened. But I feel that the politics of the moon should have _stayed_ there. The Republic had no business intervening if the government _happened_ to want to be independent, and the Jedi were certainly wrong to bring an army to destroy them."

"...the Jedi were wrong to deploy that weapon, yes." Satine was conflicted, and Kenobi smiled softly, running her silky blond hair through his fingers.

"The Jedi have changed too, my dear. They are abandoning their Code. They're slaves to a corrupt Republic..."

"The _Sith_ are warriors, Obi-Wan. The Jedi are committed to peace, they have always been, they are _peacekeepers_."

"I think Antar 4 proves that is no longer the case. And when war comes, the Jedi will be at the head of the Republic Army. There isn't much difference between Jedi and Sith anymore."

"...you will be fighting?" He nodded.

"If I must."

"You don't have to."

Obi-Wan softly kissed the woman. "I don't want to, my love. I am avoiding violence if I can. But I _will_ defend myself."

The Duchess slowly relaxed, and Obi-Wan felt her anger fade as she eased off his chest, the hand there slowly stroking downwards as she straddled his hips and pressed against him, her head in the crook of his neck and her hand stroking through the hair on the back of his head. Relief washed over the Sith Lord. _Nothing_ had changed.

"I don't want to lose you, Obi-Wan..." The Sith's hand came to rest on her hip, and he could feel the woman trembling. "You know I object to fighting. I will be angry regardless of which side you fight for."

"You know very well that I can't fight with the Jedi. Not after what they've done."

She nodded, softly kissing at his neck. "I understand. I don't like any of this, and I certainly don't agree with it, but I understand. You...believe this is right."

"I do."

"Even if it _isn't_."

Kenobi scoffed, his light grip on her hip tightening. "Of course it is. Doing nothing when there is a problem is _exactly_ why we're in this mess. That's what the Jedi did to me, that's what the Senate has done with the Republic."

"If the Republic did nothing, than there wouldn't be a _war_ about to happen!"

" _Well_ , we can't all be like you, Satine, not all of us can live in a perfect, neutral little world. _Some_ of us need to actually _deal_ with people."

"I do deal with people, that's how I _maintain peace_!" Her hand tightened in his hair, and Kenobi hissed with pain, his golden eyes blazing, a deep growl coming from his chest.

"Until someone comes along and just _takes_ what you have." Obi-Wan's thumb dug into the inside of her hip, his long fingers gripping hard into the muscle, and the Duchess wriggled, the hip bone shifting and moving in his grip, and the Sith snarled possessively. " _Someone_ needs to fight for you."

"I fight my own battles!"

"But you _don't_!"

Satine whimpered, her hands resting on his shoulders, her nails digging right through the fine cloth and into his skin, the slight pain making his golden eyes glint dangerously. "...politics?"

" _Politics_." The separated quickly, both of them breathing heavily and Obi-Wan started to laugh loudly. "I don't even know why we're restraining ourselves," he said, chuckling softly and patting her leg. "We _did_ get things done today, right?"

"Yes, I think so. Not as much as I would have liked, I _did_ get a late start."

"That was your fault, my dear."

Satine's blue eyes narrowed, and when her pulse returned to a slow, even beat, she lightly brushed her lover's leg. "Sith..."

"...yes."

"Have you killed anyone?"

Kenobi held his breath. There wasn't a good way to answer that, not one that the woman would like. "...yes. Though not as many as I killed as a Jedi. I...try to avoid killing if I can." That, at least, was true. Killing was always so needless, so senseless to him. He'd much rather keep people alive, if possible. Dead people had no use to him, and the rebellious could be subjugated.

"I wish you told me sooner," Satine said softly. "I cannot support your war, but...I can support _you_."

He chuckled and pulled the woman close. "I'm sorry for not telling you, Satine."

"The galaxy thinks you're dead, Obi-Wan. You _need_ to trust me." Her small hand cupped his bearded cheek and he closed his eyes. He was foolish to doubt her before. _Of course_ she wouldn't betray him. She couldn't, she belonged to him. The Duchess slid back on to his lap, her hands on his chest and lightly kissed him. "When were you going to tell me about the _Negotiator_?"

Obi-Wan froze, his golden eyes wide and meeting the accusing gaze of Satine Kryze. She was _unfairly_ clever, or he was disgustingly transparent. It was most likely both. He couldn't say a word, and his silence spoke more than words ever could.

" _Obi-Wan_!" she gasped, her hands balling into his black tunic, and his heart sped up. "How could you keep this from me?! You're living a double life, it's like I don't even know you!"

"How did you know!"

"I _didn't_ until just now! I _suspected_ , but..." She growled in frustration, her slight movements just enough to set the man beneath her to softly groaning as the Dark Side stirred within him, awakening his passions and demanding to be satiated. "If you know anything about me, you know I am committed to peace. How could I _not_ love someone that has earned the name Negotiator?"

" _Well_..."

She cupped his face and kissed him, not the crushing, frantic hunger of their previous entanglements, but something softer, gentler, though no less passionate. They only parted when their lungs burned from lack of air, their faces flushed and their blood coursing through them and feeding their arousal. Nothing else mattered in that moment, and Obi-Wan knew that nothing would come between them. She knew it all, all the important stuff, at least, and the rest would come easy, so long as he worded it right, so long as he put it to her properly. When the Empire took hold of the galaxy, it didn't seem such a bad thing to have a Mandalorian queen by his side. Under the guidance of Darth Sidious, they could be _unstoppable_ , the Sith and Mandalore united once again after a thousand years apart.

Kenobi gently bit at her neck, pulling her close and hands digging possessively against her pale, flushed skin. " _Mine_ ," the Sith Lord growled, and the Mandalorian shivered.

" _All yours_."

* * *

There were two of them, and they were Sith. Obi-Wan couldn't see them, but he knew they were, could feel the Dark Side swirling around the pair, just as the flames of the burning village did. Like before, he couldn't see their features, couldn't identify their race, but he knew they were male, knew one was a goliath of a creature, knew one was a cyborg, his heavy legs clawed and mechanical. Both held red lightsabers that glowed brightly even against the burning village, the bodies of the villagers piled high around them. Kenobi tried to draw closer, but as he did, the flames consumed them, and the shadows were gone. The inferno raged around him, but the Sith Lord was safe. He thrived in the flames of the Dark Side, he had nothing to fear from this place.

He could see a face in the flames before him, but it was burning, screaming, shifting with the dancing of the fire, and Obi-Wan couldn't identify who it was, _what_ it was, or what it meant. Reaching out to it, the Sith Lord growled with irritation as the vision disappeared, leaving him in darkness. He frowned; it was true that the Dark Side could cloud one's vision, but Kenobi always found clarity in the darkness. Not so with this. At least he recognized when he was having a Force vision, unlike when he was younger, more foolish, a _Jedi_.

Closing his eyes, the black faded away and was replaced by scenes of war, death, broken battle droids and the bodies of thousands of clones. There were Jedi, _thousands_ of them, all rushing on to the galactic stage in the name of the Republic, and they fell one by one to the might of the Confederacy. And then, the tables turned, and the Separatists were crushed, led by the might of Sidious and the Empire. The scene faded again, and the face in flames appeared again, and above it all was Obi-Wan, holding two lightsabers, one his familiar red, and the other the bright blue of a Jedi Knight.

He gasped, shooting up in bed and clutching his chest, breathing deeply and wiping his sweat-slicked hair back. It was _viciously_ hot, as it always was when he awoke from one of these visions. The Dark Side showed him the future, yes, but it was vague at best, completely incomprehensible at worst, and he _always_ awoke with a start, his heart pounding and dripping in sweat. It was physically taxing, draining on the body to bear the rage of the Force, especially when left unguarded, as he was when he slept.

Satine stirred next to him, groaning softly as her lover's sudden start woke her. "Obi?" She turned over, looking at him through tired, hazy eyes, and the Sith laid back down, his heart slowly calming. "Are you alright?"

"Yes. Go back to sleep, love." That was enough. The Duchess nestled against him, and within moments, her breathing slowed to the gentle, even rhythm of sleep. Kenobi extended his hand, and his comlink came to him. He grabbed the device and powered it on, relived to see he had no messages, though several missed calls, all from Dooku. Sidious didn't need him yet.

He commed Dooku, waiting for only a few moments before a tired, thick-tongued voice answered, "Yes..."

"Good morning, sweetheart," Kenobi purred, and he heard the Count on the other end groan. "Sleep well, precious? You were _so good_."

"Are you quite done..."

"I don't know, Tyranus, are you done calling me every fifteen minutes?"

"...I may be..." He yawned, and Kenobi grinned as he heard the man shuffling. "Sith Hells, Kenobi, do you know what time it is?"

"I know what time it is on Mandalore. What time is it on Serenno?"

"I don't know, I'm not _on_ Serenno, I'm on Geonosis."

Kenobi wrinkled his nose. "Eww."

"Mandalore is no better."

"No, but Sundari Palace is! It's beautiful and _warm_ , and there's a naked woman in my bed! I bet you don't have that!"

"I could if I wanted." Kenobi scoffed, and he could almost hear the Count groan in frustration. "And it isn't _your_ bed, it's the Duchess'. You are a _kept man_."

"I _may_ be alright with that."

"It's well before dawn, Kenobi. What do you want."

"I had a dream. Want to hear it?"

The Count groaned loudly, and Obi-Wan put his hand over the speaker to muffle the sound. "Tell your girlfriend, I don't care."

"She's sleeping."

"So wake her up. You are a _Sith Lord_. Take what you want from her, you own her."

"I _do_ , trust me, but I also wanted _you_ awake, and since you are, it seems senseless to wake her up too." Kenobi chuckled when he heard a stifled, choked sob on the other end. "Besides," he drawled, "it may have been a Force vision."

"... _may_ have?"

"Was. It was a Force vision."

There was silence, followed by shuffling and static, and then, in a much clearer voice, Dooku said, "What did you see?"

"Two Sith and a face in flames."

"Again?" Obi-Wan could hear the Sith Lord breathing slow and even on the other end of the com; it was almost as if he could hear his mind turning things over. "You have had this vision before. Often."

"Yes."

"Does our Master know?"

"I've showed him, yes," Kenobi sighed, running his hand absently over the sleeping Satine's back. "It's unclear to him as well. He doesn't know what to make of it, he says the meaning will reveal itself in time."

"...so he knows."

"Almost certainly, yes." Kenobi could feel Dooku's anger in his silence. "He _can_ keep things from us, Tyranus, it's his right."

"Maybe so..." Dooku growled. The Count didn't believe that at all. "Who do you suspect the two Sith are?"

"If I knew, darling, I wouldn't be calling you, I'd be going out to find them and enslave them. They are male, though."

"Are they us?"

Kenobi scoffed. "No, absolutely not. One was tall, taller than you, the other was mechanical from the waist down."

Dooku chuckled on the other end, and Kenobi frowned. He didn't like it when Dooku laughed, it just made him... _unhappy_. "Could it be your Sith Lord, _Sithkiller_?"

His heart stopped. He knew it did. Obi-Wan stared at the com like it was a small, disgusting creature he had no way of getting rid of. It was _impossible_...wasn't it? "You think it's _Maul_?"

"You think he's Sith, and at this moment, you, our Master, and I are the only Sith Lords in the galaxy."

"Maybe the vision is far, _far_ in the future," he stuttered, and the Count just laughed.

"Search your feelings, Lumis, you know that's untrue. The injuries match up, don't they? You cut Maul in half, and your Force vision Sith is legless. Maul was Sith, so..."

"No," Kenobi said quickly, shaking his head. "You're right. There's...almost no doubt, I'm embarrassed I didn't see it before."

"You and Maul are closely linked, of course your vision is clouded." A pause. "Also, I'm better than you."

" _Ha. Ha. Ha_."

"That isn't funny, Lumis."

"No, it is, it's hilarious." Obi-Wan took a deep breath and held it while the Count sputtered and reprimanded and lectured on the other end, but he put his hand over the speaker and the deep voice became muffled. A long time ago on Dathomir, he had met with Talzin, Maul's mother, and the meeting was...unusual. Now, her behavior made sense. She sensed her son was alive somewhere, and were she to manage to get hold of him, Obi-Wan would be in some very serious danger. He and Maul were linked . After all, it was his victory over Maul that made him realize the power of the Dark Side. His own lightsaber was even powered by the kyber crystal that once belonged to the Dathomirian Sith Lord. And Maul _did_ have a brother...

"Are you even listening?!" Dooku shouted over the com, and Obi-Wan chuckled softly.

"No."

"Why do I even bother with you?"

"...because I'm cute?"

Dooku scoffed, a loud, forced laugh coming in static bursts over the com. "Your lover may believe that, but trust me, Kenobi, nobody else does."

"You're just _jealous_ because Ventress thinks I'm cute too." Dooku sputtered on the other end, and Kenobi quickly cut in with, "Speaking of, you better be treating her right. If Maul is alive and something were to happen to Asajj, than that Dathomir witch is going to have it out for _all_ of us."

"You have nothing to fear from Talzin. She is _nothing_."

"I'm not stupid enough to underestimate her. Are you?"

" _Goodnight_ , Lumis. You don't need me as a distraction, you have one. _Use her_."

"Well, maybe I will. But just to spite you, darling." With a groan, Dooku cut the com, and, smiling, Obi-Wan rolled over, possessively clutched Satine to him, and fell asleep.


	17. The Tuscans

There was pain. _Lots_ of it. Suffering and agony like he had never known before, and for just a moment, Anakin Skywalker saw the face of his mother. He awoke with a loud, anguished cry, his heart pounding in his cheat and his breathing sharp, ragged, so fast he nearly hyperventilated, and it took the comforting hand of his Master to get the Padawan breathing properly.

"What happened?" Qui-Gon asked softly, his voice calming and smooth, and Skywalker tightly grabbed the Master's arm.

"...a nightmare, Master. That's all. It just..." Anakin ran a hand through his hair and down his body, faint traces of pain still burning his skin. "It was _so_ real."

"Was it a nightmare, or a vision?"

"...I-I don't know."

Qui-Gon sat on the Padawan's bed, grabbing the teen's hands in his own. "Meditate with me. Open your mind, think of this dream, show me what you saw."

Anakin nodded and did as he was told, but he could not focus. His blood was racing, his heart pounding, his mind distracted, and though he was failing terribly to calm himself, his Master remained serene, patient, and it gave Anakin strength. Eventually, he felt his entire being relax and calm, and he felt his Force connection with Qui-Gon light up as the Master entered his mind. The Padawan focused on the dream, bringing the images to his mind, and he soon found himself in pain again, trying his best to hang on to the images so his Master could look, but his panic became too great after a very short time. Qui-Gon was forced from his mind as Anakin instinctively threw up his mental defenses to protect him from the pain.

But it was enough. Qui-Gon's hand grabbed Anakin's shoulder, his kind face concerned. "A Force vision," the Master said softly. "It's not a vision of the future, it's an empathetic connection through the Force. It's happening right now."

Fear gripped the Padawan, and for just a moment, he felt the Force that surrounded him become veined with cold. His Master's comforting presence quickly cleared it, though. "My mother was in that vision, Master, does that mean she-"

"Yes." The Padawan's clear blue eyes widened in abject horror, and Qui-Gon stood from the bed and grabbed his pack, throwing his neatly folded robes inside and pulling a tunic over his head. "We need to go."

"W-what?"

"Get dressed, we're leaving." Qui-Gon fastened his belt and clipped his lightsaber on. "If something is wrong, we need to be there. It's important to you, and it's important to me."

Anakin bit his lip and looked gratefully to his Master. He wanted to thank him, but his throat was tight and trembling, and no words could pass from his lips. He got up and dressed quickly. "What about Padmé, Master?" he asked quietly, his hands nervously grabbing at things to put in his bag. He didn't have much, but his anxiety was making him uncertain of what was _actually_ his.

"We are supposed to guard Padmé," Qui-Gon said sternly. "She's coming with us, of course."

"...why?" The Master's dark blue eyes narrowed, and Anakin blushed deeply. "No, I mean...Master, why are you doing this?"

"...I've never shied from the call of the Force, Anakin. If the Force sent you a vision, than we must follow the will of the Force." The Master found the air squeezed out of him as the Padawan wrapped his arms about him in a crushing hug.

"...thank you..."

"Hush. Go wake Padmé, tell her we are leaving." The Padawan didn't waste a second running from the room. Qui-Gon sighed, taking in the living space that he and Anakin had shared for the past week. The droid the teen had been working on was nearly done, all it's innards replaced and working. All he had left to do was find the proper outer plating, but the creation was functioning. The Senator, of course, had loved it, kissed the Padawan's cheek when he presented it to her, and the boy seemed to be floating on air for the next few days.

Qui-Gon found it to be an anxious, pessimistic and irritating thing, but Padmé seemed to like it, and, he supposed, that was what mattered. After all, it was a gift for her. The two young people had grown quite close in their week together, and Qui-Gon watched in satisfaction as an easy friendship developed between them. It was... _true_ that occasionally the Master found them lightly brushing against each other as they passed, gentle touches of fingers on arms or hands as they spoke, furtive, secret glances when they thought nobody was looking, but Qui-Gon was _always_ watching.

Nothing had happened, not yet, but the call of duty could only hold attraction back for so long. It had happened with Obi-Wan, and it was happening with Anakin now. Sith Hells, it had happened to Qui-Gon as well, and he was never one to stand in the way of things if they were meant to be. Anakin was emotional, much more than a normal Jedi, but he would never _be_ a normal Jedi. He could still be balanced, and the boy knew he needed his Master's guidance to succeed. He wasn't _humble_ , no, but he was grateful, and that went a long way.

Anakin rushed back into the room, his anxiety making the Force about him shift to unbalance. "Master, she's getting ready, and she's not happy about being woken up so early."

"No, I imagine not. I'm going to get the ship ready. I want you to clean this room up. I want it looking the way it did when we arrived." The Padawan looked like he would object, but Qui-Gon held his hand up to silence him. "I suspect the Senator will take her time to get ready. Be at ease, Anakin. We will be on our way soon." The Padawan nodded and quickly set to his task while the Master went to prepare the ship for the flight to Tatooine.

* * *

The Lars homestead was in a state of panic when the Jedi arrived. Owen had quickly found his brother and hugged him tightly, tried to be brave and stern and act like a man, but his voice was cracking with emotion and grief and fear. The Tuscan's had raided, and in their attack, they had made off with Shmi Skywalker. Owen and Cliegg had managed to fend off most of the raiding party, keeping them mostly away from the valuable vaporators, but in the end, they had found that the Tuscans managed to grab Anakin's mother from right under their noses.

Qui-Gon didn't understand the sand people of Tatooine. Nobody did. They were ruthless and brutal, though the Jedi Master thought that there must have been some reason for their actions that went beyond the primitive need to destroy the settlers that lived scattered about the desert. But still, kidnaping a middle-aged woman seemed pointless and random, certainly beyond their usual method of simply sweeping in and killing all they saw. The Jedi didn't understand. He must have been missing something.

While Anakin was off with Owen to fret and worry, Qui-Gon and Padmé were met by Owen's girlfriend, a homely, kind-faced woman named Beru. She had recently moved into the homestead to help with the moisture farming after one of their maintenance droids took a turn for the worst, and it was beyond Owen's knowledge to repair it. She was fretting, her face concerned, her hands tightly winding the strings of her apron around her hand until her fingers turned red and purple from lack of circulation. She bowed deeply when the towering Jedi and the small, well-dressed Senator approached. Qui-Gon bowed in return.

"Owen was speaking very quickly when he took Anakin away, so my understanding of what has happened here is limited," the Jedi said softly, and the young woman averted her eyes. "I'm Qui-Gon Jinn. You are?"

"B-beru," she stammered softly. "I've heard all about you, Master Jedi. From Owen."

"I'm afraid there's not much to say. What has happened here?"

The woman bit her lip, her eyes wetting with tears, and Qui-Gon reached out to lay a calming hand on her shoulder. Sniffling, she stuttered, "Shmi was taken in the raid. Cliegg rounded up a rescue party of thirty men to go get her, but-" Her voice hitched with a sob. "Only four came back. Cliegg lost his leg, he's-"

"Is he alright?" Qui-Gon asked swiftly, and the woman shrugged. Without another moment, the Jedi rushed into the small farming house, making a beeline for the room he knew belonged to the Lars family patriarch. Twenty six men were dead, and one woman, maybe more, had been taken from their homes, but there was nothing he could do about that right now. He _could_ , however, help the man that had saved Anakin's mother from slavery.

He was laid out on the bed, bloody rags and cloth everywhere as a physician attended the unconscious moisture farmer. The wound was bad. He swiftly approached the bed and knelt by the leg, crudely severed at the knee, and the doctor glared at the Jedi, about to object to the intrusion before Qui-Gon cut in with, "I'm a Jedi Knight, I have some knowledge in Force healing. May I?" The physician was wary, but he nodded, and Qui-Gon laid his hands on the farmer's leg, channeling the Force while the doctor continued to work.

Beru stood in the doorway, watching with rapt interest as the Jedi and the doctor worked, and slowly, Qui-Gon could feel the farmer's presence in the Force stabilize, evening out as the stub of his leg was tightly wrapped. Cliegg would be fine. He sighed, standing and quickly thanked the physician before he left the room, gently grabbing Beru's arm and guiding her away.

"Will he be alright?" she asked softly, and the Jedi nodded.

"In time, yes. I'll see if I can't have Anakin make something to help with his mobility. He has a talent with-"

"Owen's told me all about Anakin, yes," she smiled softly, her hands trembling, and Qui-Gon carefully took them in his hand. "Thank you. I'm...glad you came. And so quickly."

"When did this happen?"

"Last night." Qui-Gon frowned. Anakin's Force sense was distressingly accurate. He'd have to help the boy work through the intense feelings that could come through empathetic visions. These things could lead quickly to the Dark Side. He'd have to ask Quinlan for help when he had apprehended the assassin. The Kiffar Master dealt with darker emotions often through his use of psychometry, and his own personal experience could help Anakin.

"Beru, do you know why the Tuscans would do this?" The woman shook her head, sniffling.

"They're just... _savages_ This is what they do."

"They kidnap?"

She shrugged. "Sometimes. I don't know why."

Qui-Gon could hear a speeder powering on, the engines engaging as the thrusters roared, and the high pitched thrum of the rupulsors crescendoed and then quickly began to fade. Rushing out of the home, the Jedi Master saw the silhouette of a speeder as it disappeared over the sand dunes into the setting of the twin suns. Anakin had left. The Master didn't move from his spot in the sand, looking out in the direction the speeder had gone. He had a _very_ bad feeling about this. There was... _cold_. A faint chill in the Force that made the Master shiver. This was...exactly what Obi-Wan had described so long ago when they faced the Sith, the same feeling that Qui-Gon had felt as well when he stood in the presence of the Apprentice on Naboo.

The Jedi Master activated his com and tried to reach Anakin, but the boy did not pick up. Qui-Gon rushed back to the home and ran to the garage, but there was nothing but broken droids and spare parts for the valuable vaporatos. He tried again to contact Anakin, but there was nothing. The Jedi could hear Beru calling for Owen, her voice becoming more and more frantic as her calls went unanswered, and Qui-Gon breathed a sigh of relief. Anakin had brought his step-brother with him. It wasn't that Qui-Gon didn't trust Anakin, but he was young, emotional, impulsive, _reckless_. With family there to protect, even if they discovered the worst, it may keep the boy grounded. Owen was a cautious, reasonable sort. Perhaps Anakin would follow suit.

There was nothing to be done but trust that the Force would guide his Padawan down the right path. The Jedi dragged his feet to the kitchen and dropped into a chair at the table, Beru and Padmé both talking in hushed tones as they fretted over the safety of the boys that they discovered had left without a word.

Padmé rushed to Qui-Gon, sitting opposite him at the table, her brown eyes focused and intense. "What do we do," she demanded, and the Jedi sighed.

"We...wait."

" _Wait?!_ How can we wait, we have a _ship_! We can follow him!"

"It's dark out, Padmé, we wouldn't be able to find a single speeder out there, and we certainly couldn't find the Tuscan encampment. Your Nubian cruiser isn't exactly meant for low altitudes, and I doubt anyone but Anakin could pull off the feat."

"We can't just stay here! Anakin could be in danger, what if he's hurt?"

"He's in no danger of being hurt," Qui-Gon said softly, pressing his fingers together, and his whole body tensed, startled when his comlink beeped. He answered it quickly, pressing the flashing button to get the holographic feed, and his heart sank when he saw it wasn't Anakin.

"Quinlan..." Qui-Gon said softly, and the Kiffar hushed him.

"Not so loud. I'm _hiding_."

"...you called when you are trying to hide? Are you an idiot?"

"Well...yes." The tracker shot a furtive glance over his shoulder, freezing in his place, and then turned back to address the Master. "I've tracked your assassin to Geonosis. We were spot on, this guy is working for Dooku, or the Separatists, or whatever. That Senator of yours must be doing something right since they want her dead. Tell her to keep it up."

Padmé grinned. "I will!"

"What, is she there too?" Qui-Gon nodded, and the Kiffar grinned. "Hello, Senator. You keep up the good work. I'm-" There was a loud screeching and the sound of blaster fire, and the Jedi pressed himself low to the ground, only the top of his head visible in the hologram. "I'm going to do my best to get this asshole, Jinn, but if we're being _really_ honest, that's not going to happen. Bastard destroyed my ship."

"Quinlan, find a way to get out," Qui-Gon said slowly, his voice serious and his proud features drawn in concern. "You can track the assassin again, this isn't worth your life."

"We're a bit past that point. Dooku's here, along with the entire Separatist Council. I'm going to blow up the compound."

Qui-Gon stared at the com in disbelief. "... _what?_ "

The Kiffar crouched, his head disappearing from the hologram and reappearing a moment later. "There's a droid foundry here, a massive one, and it's running at full tilt. There are thousands of them being made right now, and I ran past a hanger bay. They're manufacturing warships. _Huge_ ones. Dreadnaught class heavy cruisers, Jinn. They're absolutely full of it when they said they want peace. This is a fleet ready for war." He grinned. "I'm going to blow the whole thing up. With no Separatist leadership, there will be no war."

"Quinlan, you can't just-"

"Sure I can. That Sith bastard killed my friend. He's _done_."

"Revenge isn't-"

"No, it's not the Jedi way, it's _my way_ ," Quinlan growled, but the anger quickly faded. "The Sith needs to die anyway. I want to be the one that does it. For Obi-Wan. Tell the Council what's happening here in case I fail."

"Tell them yourself, Quinlan, _get out_!"

"I'll try, but..." He looked up again, and then looked back to the com, a smirk on his face, but his eyes showed concern. "I'm in the Pentranaki region. Send for help. Please. This planet sucks, I don't want to die here."

He held the Kiffar's gaze for what seemed like an eternity before Qui-Gon nodded. "We're coming for you, Quinlan. Just hold on." Master Vos grinned widely, ignited his lightsaber, and the com cut, the high pitched, electronic whine of the cut transmission deafening to the Master.

"What do we do?" Padmé asked softly. "If a Jedi dies on Geonosis, the Republic is going to go _nuts_ , especially if they can link this to the Separatists."

"I'm going to contact the Council," Qui-Gon droned. "Pray Anakin returns soon. If he's not back by morning, I'm going to have to leave without him." He didn't wait for the Senator to answer. He just stood from his seat and left the house for the ship. Hopefully this time, the Council would take swift action.

* * *

The speeder arrived just before dawn. Qui-Gon and Padmé had been waiting outside all night, the Senator drifting off to sleep every now and again, but Qui-Gon remained vigilant. The Council was alarmed, of course, by Quinlan's plight, and they promised immediate action. They didn't say what Qui-Gon should do, however, and he was already resolved to mount a rescue of his own. When the speeder stopped just outside the house and Anakin jumped out of it, he looked at his Master and Padmé standing side by side, and, with a strangled sob, he ran to them, throwing his arms around Qui-Gon and sobbing uncontrollably.

"Qui-Gon, can I-" the Senator started, but the Master quickly cut her off.

"Get ready to leave. Wait on the ship." The woman looked to Anakin, briefly touched his shoulder, and went into the house to collect the few things they had brought.

Owen slowly climbed out of the speeder, reaching into the back and taking out a person tightly wrapped in cloth and rags, and Qui-Gon knew what had happened. He knew before he saw the body, before the boys had returned. The Force had _trembled_ , and the Master had been flooded with his Padawan's pain.

"She died on the way back," Owen said softly, his voice raw, and he laid the woman outside the small house in the sand. "We did everything we could, but her wounds were too severe, we couldn't-"

" _It's not fair!_ " Anakin snarled, his voice straining and cracking between sobs, and he clutched his Master tighter.

"Hush, Anakin, I know...it's not."

"If I was _stronger_ -"

"Strength has nothing to do with it. All the strength in the world couldn't have helped you." The Padawan returned to his hapless sobbing, the Master's hand in his short-cut hair. "...what happened out there, Owen?"

"...we snuck into the Tuscan compound. Anakin found it. He just... _knew_ where it was, I guess. I don't understand it."

"The Force guides his actions."

Owen shrugged. "We found her. She was...already dying. Then the Tuscans found us, and...I-I don't know. There was chaos. I-I killed two. Anakin killed six. I think one of them stabbed mother in the fight, we..." He took in a shuddering breath and calmly rubbed tears from his eyes. Anakin was watching him closely, and, taking in a shaking breath of his own, pulled away from his Master, trying his best to emulate his stoic step-brother. "The Tuscans fled when Anakin killed a big one. They let us go after that."

"We should have killed them all..." Anakin growled, his face contorted with rage, but before Qui-Gon could say anything, Owen shook his head.

"Why?"

" _They killed my mother_!"

"Yeah, but killing them all is what they do to us. We're _better_ than that. We got our revenge, we did what we could. The rest were afraid. They won't come back."

"Your brother is right, Anakin," Qui-Gon said softly, and the Padawan lowered his head.

"...I know."

"...we can't stay here." Anakin looked up, his wide blue eyes filled with betrayal, but Qui-Gon stayed resolute. "Quinlan called, he's in danger. We need to go help, there's nothing more you can do here." Anakin stubbornly refused to budge, and Qui-Gon sighed. "You can stay if you like, but _I_ need to leave."

Anakin started to say something, but was silenced when Owen quietly drawled, "He's right. You need to go," the young farmer smiled sadly, looking back at their mother wrapped in the linens. "She was _so proud_ of you for becoming a Jedi. It's almost all she talked about. She missed you all the time, but knowing what you were doing made it worth it to her. You can't abandon that."

"I-I won't, but-"

"Mother always told you to be mindful, obey your Master, and that's what you need to do now. _Please_ , Anakin."

The Padawan slowly nodded. "What about you?"

The young farmer's chest puffed slightly. "I...have to grow up. With father's injury, he won't be able to work anymore so...it's time to be a man." The brothers didn't say anything else. They embraced tightly for a moment, and without looking back, Anakin boarded the ship with his Master, the Padawan settling into the pilot's chair and lifting off into space.

Padmé had stopped by to say she was sorry, and if he needed anything, she was there for him. He thanked her, of course, but the words were hollow. They sat in silence for a long time, Padmé leaving to get some much needed rest and the ship entered hyperspace. It wasn't until a few hours into the trip, the blue and white of the hyperspace lane in the viewport, when Anakin quietly asked, "When does the pain stop?"

"...it doesn't." The Padawan's shoulders hitched, biting his lip as he stopped himself from sobbing again. "But it does become easier, if you allow time to heal it."

Anakin shook his head. "I've watched you struggle with your own loss, Master. The wound is new to you, even after all this time."

"I...did not handle it right. I put aside my emotions. I refused to even think about him, if I could avoid it. Your emotions aren't wrong, but...you must let go. Your mother is gone. Obi-Wan is gone. You and I...we need to accept this." He reached over and grabbed his Padawan's shaking hand. "You helped me begin to heal, Anakin. Let me do the same for you."

"...I'm sorry." Skywalker looked at his Master for a moment, but had to look away again. "For what I did. I-I know it was wrong, I-"

"It's easy to fall prey to the Dark Side. It is, I've felt its call as well after..." He took a deep breath. "A woman I loved died, and I nearly fell. I told you this."

"Yes, Master."

"What makes us Jedi is our ability to resist the call."

Anakin hung his head. "I failed then. H-how can I be a Jedi after-"

"You failed today, yes, but life tests us. Failing these tests doesn't make you Sith anymore than succeeding makes you a Jedi, it just makes you _human_. What matters is that you strive for success, you look to better yourself."

"...I felt so _cold_."

"...I know, Anakin. Let me help you, please. We can get through this together."

For the first time in two days, Anakin smiled, a warm, genuine thing. "Thank you, Master. I don't deserve you."

Qui-Gon scoffed. "Being deserving has nothing to do with it. I _chose_ you. And I would choose you again, if it came to it."

Anakin nodded. "I...can't think about mother now, not when-" His voice cracked, but he quickly cleared his throat and pulled himself together. "Not when we need to be in tune with each other on this mission. We...need to save Quinlan. No more pain, not today."

Qui-Gon nodded. "How long before Geonosis?"

"Two hours."

"Plenty of time to center ourselves. Will you meditate with me?" The Padawan nodded, taking his Master's hand, and within moments, the two Jedi's minds were as one, perfectly in sync with each other, and Qui-Gon knew that things would be fine for young Skywalker.


	18. War Impending

Quinlan Vos, Jedi Master, was _bored_. His plan to blow up the droid foundries of Geonosis didn't go as planned. It actually didn't go at all, as he was captured soon after he had cut the com with Qui-Gon. That was embarrassing all on its own, of course. Quinlan had hoped to go down in glorious battle, causing such a scene that the Sith Lord himself had to come and engage with the Master. Quinlan wouldn't have minded being killed by the Sith if it meant he had a shot at stabbing the elderly former Jedi through his smug, stupid face. But _no_. He was captured by an absolute swarm of chittering, insectoid Geonosians. It was completely humiliating. Nearly as humiliating as being suspended in a containment field. Which he was.

He wriggled, testing the shackles that bound him, keeping him suspended in mid-air in the middle of the empty room. At least he was slowly _spinning_. Having a chance to look at _all_ the surfaces of the curved wall was better than being stuck looking at just _one_ part of it. There was a crack that looked a fair bit like Master Yoda, if he squinted and the angle was right, and if he wasn't rotating, he may have missed it. He'd have to thank his captors for this... _rotational_ experience. The most distressing thing, of course, was that the field disrupted his connection with the Force, and it sat in his mind like a silent void, it's loss keenly felt. This whole thing was, in a word, _stupid_.

The locked door hissed open, and Quinlan grinned broadly when Dooku, Count of Serenno, stepped through, his old face apologetic, his demeanor well-meaning. Quinlan would have puked if he wasn't hungry, and he was pretty sure that the contents of his stomach wouldn't fall to the floor, but stay suspended with him in the containment field. And that was just gross.

"Hello, sweetheart!" he chirped instead, laughing loudly as Dooku looked taken aback for a moment, as if he was hearing words that he heard often, though from someone else, and he frowned.

"This is a mistake, Master Vos," the Count started, and Quinlan rolled his eyes. "A terrible mistake. They have gone too far."

"You don't happen to have anything to read, do you? A datapad with something amusing on it? Maybe some Separatist propaganda garbage, by any chance? I'm bored out of my mind. You don't seem like you want to release me, and I _know_ you're in charge around here, so you can just cut the _shit_ , Tyranus."

At this, the Count's face dropped. "I've never heard that name."

"No? Does your Master have another name for you?" He laughed loudly, and the Count seemed to cringe, his jaw clenching in anger. _Good_. "I wouldn't have guessed, but I do suppose that Darth Bitch has a better ring to it."

"Your imprisonment had nothing to do with me," Dooku growled, "but I'm beginning to wish it did. I _could_ petition to have you set free, of course."

"Oh, how _magnanimous_ of you." He grinned. "Learned that word from a friend of mine. It's too highbrow for me, but for _him_!" The Kiffar whistled. "Way with words, that one had. Until you killed him..."

"I haven't killed anybody," Dooku drawled, and Quinlan could feel his pulse race, the cuff on his wrist beeping in warning as his heart rate spiked. The Count smirked. "Watch your temper, Quinlan Vos. The Jedi disapprove of such showings of emotion."

"Let me go and I'll show you something the Jedi _really_ wouldn't like."

"What's a Jedi Knight doing on Geonosis? It's very far away from Republic space."

Quinlan shrugged to the best of his abilities, but the containment field was making it difficult. "Hunting your pet. Bounty hunter named Jango Fett, heard of him?"

"Geonosians don't trust bounty hunters. You won't find him here."

"Mm, yes, I _will_ , and that's not what I asked. Have you _heard_ of him?" Quinlan rolled his eyes. "Honestly, if this is what it's like to grow old, you should just kill me now. I don't think I could handle the hearing loss. The fading memory. The _impotence_..."

"I've never heard of the man."

"No, of course not. If you're forgetting your own name, of course you won't remember that thug."

Dooku smirked, and for a moment, the Kiffar saw something wicked there. "It's a shame you and I haven't crossed paths before. I hear your talents with the Force are... _unique_. Rarities have always held a great interest to me."

"Oh, is that why you're putting me in a cage? It's an idiot plan, if you want my talents, I need to have my connection to the Force restored. And our paths _have_ crossed. Indirectly. On _Dromund Kaas_." Quinlan grinned at the older man. "Come now, let me down, I'll show you what I can do."

The Count regarded the Jedi carefully, and for a moment, it looked like Dooku would actually comply. Instead, he slowly drawled, "If you know what I do, you would never go along with what is happening in the Republic."

"And what is that, exactly?"

Dooku paused, and the silence was extremely unnerving to the restless Jedi. He turned his head to keep the Count in his sight. Suddenly, the rotating he had been so grateful for before became highly irritating. "What if I told you," Dooku carefully stated, "that the Republic is under the control of a Dark Lord of the Sith?"

Quinlan scoffed. "I knew that. We _all_ know that. Well, the smart ones do, at least." The Kiffar grinned. "I never claimed to be one of the smart ones, but Obi-Wan Kenobi was, and he told me _everything_." The Count's face twitched, be it from irritation or nerves, Quinlan didn't know, but regardless, it was good for him. "I know about you, and I know about your Master. You're going to have to try harder if you want to impress me."

"If we join together, we can destroy the Sith." _That_ got Quinlan's attention. His brown eyes shot to the Count, the older man's face hard and impassive and the Kiffar _wished_ he had the ability to reach the Force in that moment, gauge the man's emotions, read his sincerity. Instead, all he could do was narrow his eyes, glaring at the creature that he knew to be Sith as well.

"Isn't that what you Sith do?" he drawled, his voice dripping with contempt. "You destroy each other. It's what you've always done. The Jedi won't even need to lift a finger, you'll run yourselves into extinction all on your own."

Dooku grinned wickedly. "Quinlan Vos. There is... _so much_ anger in you. Give in to it, use it, and you could be _so_ powerful. I can show you how."

Quinlan snarled, pulling against his restraints. "I will _never_ join you! Obi-Wan was my friend, and you _murdered him_!"

Dooku chuckled. "I didn't murder Obi-Wan Kenobi. He was the architect of his own destruction."

Quinlan's temper quickly faded. Getting angry was pointless when he could do nothing about it. Instead, he smirked at the Sith. "Hey, does your Master use you? I mean, _really_ use you?' The Count sputtered, and the Kiffar laughed loudly. "Oh, I bet he does! Does it hurt? Do you _like_ it? Sith are creatures of passion, you _must_ have a sexual appetite! And, _well_ , he's the Dark Lord of the Sith!" He gasped as the Count reddened slightly, his jaw tight. "Oh, I bet it's _huge_! His appetite, I mean. Sweet Force, how do you get anything done at all? He must keep you absolutely pinned down!"

"Securing your release," Dooku growled through his tightly clenched teeth, "may be more difficult to arrange than I would have thought." The Kiffar's laughter followed the Count out of the room, silenced only when the heavy door slid shut.

* * *

Dooku entered the meeting room to raucous laughter, and he slammed his palm against his forehead. There would be no mercy for him that day.

" _Kenobi_ ," he growled, the other Sith's head slamming against the table as he tried to control himself, wiping tears away from his eyes as he sat up. "You are...earlier than I expected."

"Well, you _did_ call." He grinned, shoulders shaking with repressed laughter. "Did you want me to see your... _interrogation_?" He held up his datapad, and the Count paled. "Oh, don't worry, I recorded it. So every time I'm sad, I can watch that Jedi call _you_ , Dooku, Lord of the Sith, a little bitch!" The laughter began again, worse than before, and Dooku stalked toward him, snarling at the younger man and hitting him on the back of the head as he passed. Kenobi didn't seem to notice.

"How much does that Jedi know?" Dooku asked softly as he sat down at his seat.

"Oh, everything. Quinlan and I were hunting you together, after all. He learned with me."

"He doesn't know you _fell_."

"No, of course not. _I_ didn't know I fell when I actually fell. I thought it happened much later than it did." He shrugged. "Quinlan knows about everything he told you. You're a Sith, there's a Sith in the Senate, the Sith have changed, blah, blah..." Kenobi glared, tossing a lightsaber in the air and igniting it as he grabbed it, the green blade of the captured Jedi extending. "And now he knows more, thanks to you."

Dooku pointed at the lightsaber. "Where did you get that?" Kenobi just smirked.

"The guards. They wanted to keep it, but Geonosians aren't fit for a weapon such as this, the _disgusting_ things."

"He didn't learn anything from me," the Count snapped. "That Jedi vexed me nearly as much as you, did you spend a great deal of time with him?"

"I did." Kenobi winked at the older Sith. "I learned a great deal from him. And you _did_ tell him something. You told him there is _conflict among the Sith, Dooku_!" The yellow eyes were wide, concerned, and the Count crossed his arms, stoic and silent. "Did you just proposition a Jedi to help you _kill_ our Master?!"

"It was a _tactic_ , Lumis, you understand those."

"Yeah, a poor one! Sith Hells, this is how you die!" He pointed the green saber at Dooku's face, and the Count drew his own weapon, not igniting it, but ready to. "If our Master so much as _suspected_ that you would betray him, he'd destroy you. You aren't stronger than Sidious. You never will be."

"Not alone."

"Not ever." Kenobi stood, turning the green saber off and clipping it to his belt, and he drew close to Dooku, the Count looking distinctively uncomfortable. "You aren't thinking of betraying the Sith, are you?"

"Never."

"Because..." Kenobi purred, running a long finger down the Count's chest, making the man tremble ever so slightly. "If that were the case, if someone had the idea that betraying us might be a good idea, _well_...Sidious has ways of bringing those people back into the fold, if they have any use."

"I'm certain that will not be necessary," the Count drawled indifferently, but Kenobi could hear the faint strain in his voice.

"I should hope not." Obi-Wan smirked, his dangerous yellow eyes shining with a sinister light. "It's just so _awful_ when I have to break people. I do enjoy it, mind you, but truly, it's a terrible thing to need to deprive people of their will. They should _know_ who their Master is, I shouldn't need to educate them. All they need to do is _submit_." He smiled sweetly. "Why did you call me to this dustbin? Did you want to give me a gift? I'll gladly take the Jedi off your hands..."

"Master Vos isn't for you, Kenobi," Dooku growled. "He is to be executed."

"... _executed_?!"

"For espionage. The war must begin, now that our Master has power in the Senate."

"That isn't going to happen." Dooku glared at the younger Sith.

"And _you_ will stop it?"

"Don't be an idiot, I won't need to. Your Jedi will stop it. You can't just execute Quinlan Vos. The man ran circles around you in your own interrogation, and he'll do likewise in an execution. He's going to get away. Just watch."

"He _isn't a gift_ ," Dooku snarled. "I thought you would take longer to get here, this matter should have been settled."

"Hey, you called, I came. It's what you wanted, right?"

"Yes, but in the past, it has been difficult to pry you away from that little whore of yours."

Within the span of a second, Dooku found himself slammed to his knees _hard_ with the power of the Dark Side, the lightsaber flying from his hand and into Kenobi's delicate grip, the saber igniting and pointed dangerously close to the pit of Dooku's throat. The Count tried to move, but the Force held him down, the Dark Side fleeing from his control, drawn to the call of a younger, more powerful Sith. Those golden eyes were glowing in the sinister shadows of his face, and Obi-Wan smiled, an easy, wicked thing to behold.

" _Don't_ ," he purred sweetly, "ever talk about _my things_ like that. _I_ can talk about her however I wish, but _you_..." The tip of the saber pointed just above his throat, and the Count could feel the energy of the plasma burning his skin. "You will refer to her with the utmost respect. Do I make myself clear?"

"...yes." His week away had changed Kenobi, that much was obvious. He had a soft spot for the woman before, but now simple affection had mutated into a vicious possession, the Sith gripping the Mandalorian to him close as if she were some treasured thing that he owned.

"Now," Kenobi purred, holding the glowing red blade with a steady hand, "what do we call her?"

"Satine."

"No, _I_ call her Satine. _You_ don't get to. Come now, you're a _lord_! Even better, you're _nobility_. Show some class, some sophistication. Honestly, you're supposed to be civilized."

Dooku's throat was dry, raw, but he dare not swallow to try and wet it; the movement of his neck may bring him in contact with the blade, it was so close to his throat. " _Duchess_ Satine." Kenobi's face relaxed, and Dooku breathed deeply in relief, but as soon as he did, the shadowed claws of the Dark Side dug into his mind, and the Count threw up his mental defenses, only to be met by the overpowering force of Darth Lumis in his open mind. It was too late; Kenobi was in. Dooku's eyes widened in fear as he trembled.

"I've been here before," Kenobi growled. "Don't even try to throw me out. You _can't_." He smiled brightly. "But by all means, resist me."

Dooku watched as the red blade powered down, the younger Sith tossing it away carelessly. He didn't need a weapon anymore. Glaring up at the blond man, the Count softly growled, "What do you want."

"I want you to keep away from my _stuff_. My ship, my Jedi, my planet, my woman, my Master."

" _Our_ Master."

"I _certainly_ hope so," he purred, drawing close to the Count, but Dooku could not move away as he leaned down, that handsome face so very close to his own. "The second Darth Sidious stops being _our_ Master and is simply _mine_ , there will be no further use for you. Then you're just a rebellious threat, _Tyranus_." Kenobi grabbed the Count's chin hard, his painful grip pulling at the hair's of his beard. "And you know what I do to things that threaten our Master. I'm not an enemy you want."

"...you aren't my enemy, Lumis."

"And let's keep it that way, hmm?" The Sith Lord chuckled. "Besides, I've been inside your mind. I'm in it right now. Can you feel me there?"

Dooku shivered, a chill running through him as the Dark Side surged and rolled, the shadowy hand of the Negotiator seeming to drum upon his consciousness, tendrils of darkness seeming to wave in greeting. "Y-yes, Mas-" He shut his mouth, biting his tongue and tasting blood in the process. He hadn't meant to nearly say that. It was expected, of course. Dooku had watched Kenobi do so to others hundreds of times before.

"I _could_ make you say it, you know. But I won't. So long as we understand each other."

"We do."

" _Excellent_." He stood, releasing his hold and Dooku pitched forward and drew in a deep, grateful breath as he felt Kenobi slip effortlessly out of his mind. He had been wrong before. Obi-Wan hadn't been changed by his week away. He had been changed by the holocron and the fearful powers he had learned from the ancient device. He'd have to take caution in the future when moving against such a creature.

Kenobi sat again in the chair he had occupied before, placing his boots on the table and whistling. "Back to business, then? Why did you need me?"

Dooku carefully regarded the other Sith, reached out to touch at his mind and found it completely unguarded. At that moment, there was no anger, no malice, no irritation. Just calm bemusement. His defenses weren't up, which seriously displeased the Count; Darth Lumis found no threat here. He stood and grabbed a holopad from the table, ran his fingers over the screen to locate the necessary file, and slid the device to the other man, the yellow eyes watching with rapt, silent attention. When the holovid was over a few minutes later, Kenobi sucked in a hard, sharp breath, and played it again. And then once again. Finally, Kenobi pushed the datapad back to Dooku.

"It's a bold move."

"Not the one we were expecting."

"Not in the least." He leaned back and closed his yellow eyes. Certainly, this was not something that his Master had wanted. No, this reeked of a more peaceful faction within the Republic. But he also sensed a trap. Calling to meet with the Negotiator posed certain problems for every party involved. For the Sith, this could undermine the war effort if it didn't end it altogether. For the Confederacy, it set them up to look like villains were they to refuse peace talks, something that Dooku was working hard to avoid. And for the Republic, this could mean the end of them. Were they to capture the Negotiator under the guise of peace talks, it would surely fall apart. However, the Jedi were also certain he was Sith, and they understood the dangers present just by being in a room with him.

"Any ideas?" Kenobi asked softly, and Dooku frowned.

"Our Master is extremely displeased by this. Even he is struggling to find the best solution. He has demanded that it be brought to you. Your talents seem to fit this mess."

Kenobi rolled his eyes. "Of course our Master is at a loss. If he weren't, this matter would have already been solved. His hands are tied, he cannot help us. He said we are on our own, and he meant it. I asked for _your_ ideas, Tyranus. Ancient Gods of the Sith, stop being so _dependent_."

"I say we send a decoy. They do not know you."

"Who could we _possibly_ send in my place? We don't have anyone smart enough to fit the bill, they'll know in an instant they're dealing with a fake. They will spin that to their advantage."

Dooku laughed loudly. "You are _vain_."

"And I have earned _every_ second of it, have I not? There is nobody in this room that is stupid." Kenobi shrugged, a smirk on his proud features. "Except for you, of course."

" _Focus_. What are you going to do about this, Kenobi? You cannot simply ignore this, it's as good as denying them."

"I'm going to have to meet them. On my terms, of course, this game isn't one they play well."

"It's a trap, Obi-Wan."

"Yes, it's a trap, of course it's a trap!" His hand balled into a fist, the golden eyes narrowing in rage. "I don't have a good solution, not yet, I'll have to meditate on this, the Force will guide my way. How long is appropriate to wait to respond?"

"I wouldn't wait more than a few days. If you don't respond by the end of the week, it will look like cowardice."

"Well, we can't have that..." He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, reaching out to the Dark Side of the Force and searching for answers, but there were none to be found. The Force was still, unnaturally so, and Kenobi felt the cold chill grip him in warning. "Did you feel it? Last night?" the young Sith asked quietly, and Dooku crossed his arms, scoffing in derision.

"If this is another stupid joke about your wanton displays with your-"

"It isn't, _focus_. We're being serious right now, Dooku. Last night, the Force _trembled_. Did you not feel it?"

"The Force has been straining often these days with the power of the Dark Side. This isn't new."

"No, it is. This wasn't a disturbance, this was a _storm_. Something..." He shook his head, snarling. "I can't place it. I will, in time. The Force has always shown me the way."

"The Jedi in you isn't dead, is he?" Dooku drawled, and Kenobi's angry yellow eyes shot to the other man, but found his features...soft. Nearly compassionate.

"I...admit he's difficult to kill." He shrugged. "If our Master wanted Dark Siders, he would have drawn from outside the Jedi Order. He took us instead. There must have been a reason for that."

"He told me once that a masterpiece could not be crafted from poor materials. The Jedi Knights provide the best foundation." Kenobi nodded, looking away from the Count. "...this Republic plot reeks of Senator Amidala."

"...Padmé?" The golden eyes drifted to Dooku, the Count easy and relaxed, and Obi-Wan took a deep breath. "...that helps my planning. Thank you."

"Careful, Kenobi, or your Duchess will become jealous."

"She won't. She trusts me." He shrugged, smiling. "Besides, I can emotionally manipulate people as I like. I'm faithful in the ways that matter."

"Yes, I'm sure..." Dooku watched the other Sith Lord, his eyes closed, his features relaxed, his defenses down, and the temptation to reach into his mind and look, see what was there. He was just about to do so when Kenobi began to laugh.

"I don't recommend it, Dooku. All that's in here is war, blood and sex. Nothing for an old man."

The Count's eyes narrowed, his mouth twitching as he snarled. "I don't feel you in my mind, how are you-"

"You don't feel me, no." Kenobi smiled warmly. "But I'm there. I'll _always_ be there. We have a connection, you and I." He chuckled when the old man looked away. "It's a one way connection. Apologies."

"I saw your ship today," Dooku eagerly changed the subject. The thought of the younger Sith reading his thoughts was too disturbing to be true. He'd have to test that when there was some distance between them. "It's done."

Kenobi nodded. "I saw when I arrived. It's not as grand as Grievous' _Malevolence_. My ship doesn't have ion cannons."

" _Your_ ship won't be seeing combat as often as Grievous. He's the general of the army, he will be in the heart of the fighting."

"Are you suggesting I won't fight?"

"I don't need to _suggest_ that, you do it yourself." Kenobi grinned, like he was proud of it.

"I should call my ship _Negotiator_. Oh! Yes, I like that. Can you put that through for me?"

"Do I _look_ like your errand boy?" Obi-Wan grinned, and before he could answer, Dooku quickly waived that away. "Please, don't answer that. What are your plans for the war then? You have stated your... _objection_ for droids."

"I want an organic crew. Maybe I'll see if I can't dominate a clone battalion. That will cause some real confusion. And a rancor!" Dooku rolled his eyes, but the man was insistent. "Tyranus, really. I want a _rancor_. I can break a Jedi Master, I can certainly break a beast."

"A _mindless_ beast."

"It's easier to break! Think of the havoc I could cause with one of those! Or _two_!"

"To _both_ sides." Kenobi shrugged.

"So what, there are only droids on our side."

"They're _expensive_..."

"We have all the money in the galaxy."

" _Wars_ are expensive!"

Obi-Wan groaned in frustration. "You make this very difficult. I want a ship full of organics and the most fearsome beasts in the galaxy. Can it be done?"

"Yes...but the beasts you will have to secure yourself."

"Can do." Kenobi smiled, his fingers tapping on the table as Dooku rolled his eyes and answered the com that began to beep. The chittering speech of the Geonosian could be heard on the other side, but it was too fast for the young Sith to pick up. He had only recently begun to learn the language, but he wasn't serious about it. Humans couldn't speak it, only understand, and he saw little point in understanding primitives. After all, like anything, they obeyed his commands.

Dooku swiftly cut the com, picked up his datapad, and accessed the security system. After reviewing it silently for a few minutes, he stood, came to Obi-Wan's side, and handed the Sith the datapad, the security footage on the screen. Kenobi's golden eyes widened, and for the first time in a very, very long time, the Negotiator was speechless.

"It's your lucky day, Obi-Wan," Dooku purred, the two Jedi and a young woman with a blaster fighting through the droid foundries. "Your Master is here."


	19. Geonosis

The rescue had not gone as planned. Actually, on reflection, it was really a very, _very_ poor idea. Situations like this would get Qui-Gon yelled at by the Council later, but that was what he got for following what he believed was right. One thing was certain: Qui-Gon Jinn, Jedi Master, was getting far too old for this sort of thing.

Not Anakin, though. Anakin was _brilliant_. His first taste of real combat, and he took to it like he was born for it. Which, Qui-Gon guessed, he was. A child with his level of Force potential was _made_ for the Jedi, and it showed. He was powerful, yes, and his talent with a lightsaber, his true passion, was outstanding. It wasn't enough, of course, but Anakin seemed to have infinite stamina, even when using the draining Ataru, drinking deep from the well of the Force and using it to augment his already considerable strength.

They had killed hundreds of Geonosians, but they were fighting insects within their hive, and their numbers were beyond counting. Which led them to this moment, stripped of their weapons and manacled together, standing on carts that would bring them into the arena where they would be executed. The charge was espionage, and while it wasn't true, Qui-Gon considered it a fair assessment, from the Geonosian point of view.

"...Master?" Anakin whispered, and the larger man leaned down to listen. "Are we going to die?"

"Probably, yes."

Anakin nodded, and Qui-Gon found himself proud of the boy. There was no fear in his bright blue eyes, just grim resolve and...acceptance. "I'm sorry, Padmé," the Padawan said, smiling softly. "We shouldn't have brought you with us."

"I'm glad I was here. You don't need to apologize, I _wanted_ to be here with you."

Anakin felt his heart beat faster, a deep flush coming to his face. "Focus, Anakin, " Qui-Gon said sternly, his dark blue eyes roving over the dimly lit corridor that led to the arena. "If we want to have any hope of escape, we need to observe everything around us. See what we can use, identify any weaknesses we can find-"

A sharp gasp from his Padawan made the Master look to the young man, and Qui-Gon groaned loudly. Anakin Skywalker and Padmé Amidala, childhood friends with a clear attraction problem, we leaned over the rail of their respective carts, leaving swift, chaste kisses on the other's lips. It wasn't _unexpected_ , but the timing was highly inconvenient. "Honestly, Anakin, this isn't helping..."

"Yes it is, it totally is..."

"Contrary to what you seem to think, kissing a Senator _isn't lucky_!"

"Uh huh."

"No! It isn't!" Qui-Gon sighed, giving up as the teen returned his attentions to Padmé. They were likely going to be dead within the hour anyway. He supposed it didn't matter much. The gates opened, and Qui-Gon squinted against the light, harsh and bright against the sand as they were rolled out into the arena. Four pillars stood in the center of the large ring, but all Qui-Gon could see was his former Master Dooku on the balcony high above.

They were chained to the pillars, one for each, and Qui-Gon took stock of his surroundings, glancing to his left to find Quinlan Voss chained to the next pillar over. The Kiffar seemed dazed, hazy, and for a moment, Qui-Gon had thought something was seriously wrong. But then the Master's brown eyes focused, and he turned to the other Jedi and smiled.

"Did you contact the Council?"

"I did. I've never heard Master Windu so angry."

"What, at me?!"

"No, at the Sith." He tried to shrug, but his arms were held painfully over his head, and he couldn't. "Then we decided to come rescue you."

Quinlan leaned over, carefully observing the Master, the Padawan, and the Senator, and the chains that held them. "... _well done_! Truly spectacular, Master Jinn. You're an inspiration."

"Would you rather be here alone?"

"No," he gasped, his eyes sliding out of focus as he trembled and looked distinctly unwell.

"What have they done to you? Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine, they didn't do anything..." The Kiffar breathed deeply, finding his focus once again. "There's a lot of pain and death here, I'm getting visions..."

"Quinlan, your powers are the literal worst."

"Tell me about it." Dooku began to speak, some Separatist nonsense that Quinlan ignored, but the Master next to him was quickly growing angry, his dark blue eyes narrowed in fury. "Qui-Gon." The Master did not respond. His jaw just clenched tighter, his hands balling into fists. " _Qui-Gon_!" That got the Jedi's attention. "Focus! We're going to get out of here. Dooku and I have unfinished business."

"Yes. I have business with him as well." The gates opened again, and the Geonosians led in four large, vicious creatures, only two of which Qui-Gon recognized. "That's a Reek," he whispered to Quinlan, indicating with his head to a large horned quadruped.

"Aggressive?"

"Not usually, but they are when they're hungry."

Quinlan grinned. "That feline? Nexu. Very dangerous. Very fast." He clicked his tongue, shifting his shoulders. "I killed two on a mission to Cholganna."

"So...not dangerous, then."

"Ha, ha, you're an asshole, Qui-Gon." He lifted his foot, pointing with his boot at a large, reptilian creature with long, bladed forelegs. "Who's the big guy?"

"Acklay. Very dangerous. I'm unfamiliar with the last beast."

Quinlan grinned. "Oh, it's a Maalraas." He laughed loudly. "We're going to die."

"That bad?" Qui-Gon looked nervously at the red-furred feline creature, jagged fangs in it's mouth, it's long neck swaying as it sniffed the air.

"They're Force sensitive. The can use the Force to cloak their presence. How cool is that?"

"That would be much more interesting if we weren't about to be killed by it." Qui-Gon looked over at Anakin and Padmé. He couldn't see the Senator well, but Anakin's sharp eyes were looking over the creatures, his fine features bold and defiant. "Anakin." The Padawan looked over. "I have a plan, but it requires leaving one of the beasts unattended."

"I vote for the...uh..."

"In the presence of predators, the Reek may leave us alone long enough to get control of the situation." Quinlan said quickly. "I've got the Maalraas."

Qui-Gon surveyed the beasts, the ferocious Acklay rearing and killing one of the Geonosians that brought it in. "I can take that one. I should be able to subdue it. Anakin, do you remember what I taught you about controlling beasts."

"Um...y-yes, Master."

"Be ready, than, we can-" The beasts were released, and the feline Nexu raced toward the pillar that Padmé was attached to, Anakin shouting in rage, but the girl wasn't there. While the Jedi were planning, the Senator was using the chain to pull herself up the pillar. The Nexu roared, leaping upon the pillar, sharp claws digging into the stone, and was met with a heavy chain striking it in the face when it got too close to the Senator.

"Well, never mind then, she's fine," Qui-Gon drawled. "Anakin, you get the Reek."

"Yes, right..."

The other creatures did not have the start that the Nexu had, and the Reek had to be prodded into charging, and when it did, Anakin called out to it through the Force, catching the beast's attention, and it stampeded toward him. With a well-timed leap, Anakin jumped clear over the creature as it's heavy head hit the stone, the pillar crumbling to the ground, snapping the chain that held the Padawan. He swung it, catching the Reek around the neck, and he held on with all his strength as the quadruped bucked, trying to shake the Jedi off.

Qui-Gon stood still, centering himself in the Force as the Acklay ambled toward him, lifting it's long, bladed leg and swiping at the Jedi, the Master moving quickly out of the way as the razor sharp appendage cut through the chain and dug into the stone of the pillar. Freed from his chain, Qui-Gon rushed back, the slowly moving creature coming after him, and the Jedi Master held his hands out before him, channeling the Force to flow around the creature, and the beast slowed, shook it's head, it's movements becoming sluggish and random as it slowly fell under the sway of the Jedi Master.

Quinlan wasn't so lucky. The Maalraas carefully stalked around the Kiffar, the two Force wielders sizing each other up, measuring their strength in the Force. When the creature finally pounced, Quinlan was ready, swiftly scrambling halfway up the stone pillar and waiting, the chain looped down beneath him. The Maalraas returned to it's stalking when it found its prey to be swift, but Quinlan didn't move, his brown eyes watching the creature's every movement. Slowly, he dangled one of his legs beneath him to hang between the loop of the chain. The Maalraas pounced, hissing as it did so, and Quinlan swiftly withdrew his leg, letting go of the pillar as he did so and falling back, passing the snarling carnivore as he fell to the ground. As his feet hit the ground, the Kiffar used his momentum to yank the chain down hard, meeting resistance for only a moment before he heard a loud, wet snap, the beast's neck snapping between the force of the looped chain.

Geonosian soldiers rushed into the arena carrying long spears and electric prods, but by the time they arrived, it was too late. The Jedi were free, and they had control of the situation. Qui-Gon rushed back to the pillars, the Acklay following at his command and the long, bladed legs stabbed at the relentless Nexu that attacked Padmé, the creature howling for just a moment as the sharp point impaled the beast. The Senator started to climb down, but Qui-Gon ordered her to stay where she was, and the Jedi rushed off, his Acklay on his heels as they met the Geonosians.

It was a slaughter. Between Qui-Gon's Acklay, the Reek that Anakin rode, and Quinlan's fearsome close combat skills, the Geonosian soldiers quickly fell, more numbers only giving the Jedi more weapons to work with. With the execution clearly failed, Dooku quietly commanded the Geonosian leader to release the droids.

When the droidekas rolled out, the Jedi abandoned their beasts, rushing back to the pillars as the remaining two creatures were shot down, their large bodies falling to the ground, dry dust swirling around them. Anakin helped Padmé down, and the four stood within a ring of droids, the Jedi protectively creating a wall around the Senator.

"...we made a good go of it, huh?" Quinlan said softly, and Qui-Gon smiled, nodding.

"We did. You and Anakin were brilliant."

"You were too, Master," Skywalker said softly, and the elder Jedi smiled modestly, breathing deep and closing his eyes, centering himself in the Force.

The rest was chaos.

The three Jedi stood in the arena, stunned, as the arena stands began to glow and hum with lightsabers. _Hundreds_ of them. Hundreds of Jedi jumped down to the sands of the arena, instantly setting to combating the battle droids that now poured into the stadium, blaster bolts firing and being effortlessly deflected by the Jedi. Anakin, Qui-gon and Quinlan ducked their heads, rushing toward their Jedi brothers and sisters and shielding Padmé as best as they could. When they reached the Knights, they were handed lightsabers, Anakin laughing loudly as he ignited the blue blade and rushed to join the fight. Quinlan turned his on, the green blade extending, and he twirled it in his hand, deflecting stray blaster bolts and getting a feel for the unfamiliar weapon. He grinned, looking back at Qui-Gon Jinn, holding a green blade and frowning.

"Hey, look alive, Jinn! What could you _possibly_ be moping about?"

"...nothing." Cutting down the droids that were slowly advancing toward him, he stayed by the Kiffar's side, the two Jedi quickly falling into an easy unison as they fought back the tide of the mechanical army.

"This day isn't going how I expected," the Kiffar drawled, cutting through a nearby droid. "I was pretty sure I'd be dead by now. I half expected the Council to just leave me."

"Well, you _are_ a royal pain in the ass..."

"So are you."

"I'm old. I've earned it." The Kiffar covered Qui-Gon as a destroyer droid approached, the Master diving behind it and severing it at the legs, and Quinlan brought his blade down into its head, the mechanical thing whirring before going still and silent. Qui-Gon looked up into the stands where Dooku stood watching. "...we need to get him."

"I don't know if we _can_ , we're sort of surrounded."

"He has my lightsaber."

Quinlan rolled his eyes. "He has my lightsaber too. Forget about it, we can make new ones when we get back to Coruscant."

"You can, but _I_ can't." Quinlan reeled on the Master, irritated, and stopped when he saw pain and rage in those deep blue eyes. "That lightsaber belonged to Obi-Wan."

The Kiffar bit his lip and looked up at the Sith Lord. "...we need to get your lightsaber back." There was an army of droids and swarming Geonosians between them and the Count. Quinlan had seen worse. "Come on, I'll cover you."

With a nod, the two Jedi ran into the fray, easily deflecting blaster bolts and cutting down the droids that stood in their way. They passed Jedi they knew, friends, that were fighting as they were, and Quinlan thought he saw the distinctive purple blade of Mace Windu engaging the Mandalorian bounty hunter from Kamino. But more than that, they ran past the dead. Heaps of battle droids lay broken, but there were Jedi too. Lots of them, scattering the ground and lifeless, and for a moment, Qui-Gon couldn't help but think that the rescue may not have been worth it.

They jumped up into the stands, the Geonosian swarm scattering before them like the insects they were, and the two Masters rushed up the stairs toward Dooku's elevated box. Quinlan was faster, younger, and much more nimble than th aging Qui-Gon, and he leapt up into the box easily, bringing his saber down against the Count, his red blade easily blocking. The Kiffar grinned broadly.

"I want my lightsaber back," he chirped when he saw two sabers hanging off of the Sith Lord's belt, and Dooku just rolled his eyes, clearly unconcerned at the threat the Jedi before him possessed.

"I don't have your lightsaber."

"Sure you do, I can _see_ it." He swung the weapon, each strike quickly blocked, and the Kiffar smirked when he saw Qui-Gon's head pop up over the railing of the balcony, his hand outstretched. He narrowly avoided a swift forward thrust, and the Master bit his lip, focusing at the fight at hand. He knew he was good, _very_ good, but Dooku outmatched him. This wasn't a fight he'd win.

The Count reeled around when he felt the weight of the two sabers fly off his belt, and his eyes narrowed when he saw his old student, his dark blue eyes narrowed in anger, his hand clutching the two weapons that he had stolen back. With an angry snarl, Dooku blocked a strike from Quinlan and grabbed him through the Force, the Kiffar squirming in his grasp as he struggled for breath. With a violent push, Quinlan was thrown through the air, and Qui-Gon Jinn let go of the balcony, quickly racing down the stadium and just barely managed to catch the falling Kiffar Master. He glared up at Dooku through the swarm of Geonosians as they began their attack, and the two Masters were forced to retreat back down to the center of the arena where the Jedi stood.

Hundreds of Jedi were present at the start of the fight, but now, as Qui-Gon looked around, only the best of the Order remained. They now numbered in the thirties, and while he was relieved to see that Anakin was still living, it did not bring him any comfort. The droids were too many, even for Jedi. They were all going to die. Suddenly, the droids all stopped attacking, and Qui-Gon ran to his Padawan, keeping him close. Little Padmé was with him, a blaster gripped in her hands. She smiled at him, a little, scared smile, but she was trying to be as brave as she could be. The paralyzing fear of death seemed to have worn off, if it was even there to begin with, and she was now filled with grim determination.

Qui-Gon nudged Anakin and handed him his lightsaber, and with a grateful smile, the Padawan dropped the saber he had been using and ignited his own.

"Surrender," Dooku called from his balcony perch, and the reason for the cease-fire became clear. "I do not want anymore death today."

"We won't be used as bargaining pieces for the Separatists!" Mace cried, his voice filled with fury, and Dooku looked remorseful. Qui-Gon scoffed. He didn't know why the Sith was even trying to uphold appearances.

Dooku inclined his head. "Then you will all die." The Jedi raised their sabers as blasters hummed with the high whine of the charging rounds, Obi-Wan's blue saber igniting in Qui-Gon's hand.

But death never came.

The loud screech of a transport ship was heard overhead, the heavily armed craft descending and firing relentlessly upon the droid army and the Geonosians. It was followed by another, than another, than another, until the surviving Jedi found themselves surrounded by the military crafts, the hatches opening and clone troopers stormed out, a highly trained, highly effective fighting force that kept the droids and the chittering insectoids safely at bay. Qui-Gon looked up to the balcony to find that Dooku was gone. Panic gripped him. The Sith could not be allowed to escape. He reached out and grabbed Quinlan's arm, the Kiffar looking haggard and tired and leaning on a supportive Luminara.

"He's gone, Quinlan, Dooku's gone."

The Kiffar groaned loudly, his head dropping to Luminara's shoulder. "Just make this end, please."

"Escape, he cannot," Master Yoda said softly, stepping out of one of the military crafts, his stick planted in the sand of the arena. "End, this war will, if capture Dooku, we can."

"We don't know where he went, Master," Quinlan softly groaned, "but send me out there, and I'll catch the bastard."

"You aren't going alone," Luminara said, grabbing her friend's hand. "Barriss and I will go with him, Master Yoda." The old Master nodded, and the two Masters and the Padawan stepped inside the craft, the clone soldiers surrounding them, and they took off into the air.

"We won't catch him with just one ship. I'll take Anakin and we'll head off in the other direction." Qui-Gon looked at his Padawan, and Skywalker nodded, kneeling before Yoda.

"We won't fail, Master, but we were sworn to protect the Senator. Can you take her?"

Yoda nodded. "To safety, I will bring her. Go."

With a nod, Master and Padawan jumped into the shuttle, and they went in search of the Sith Lord.

* * *

"Honestly, what is taking you so long?" Obi-Wan snapped when Dooku came striding into the hanger, his solar sailor waiting to take them safely and secretly off-planet. Kenobi had felt something would be going horribly wrong when he saw Qui-Gon captured on the security footage, and he had run off to prepare for his and Dooku's escape. He was eager to leave. With the arrival of the Jedi with the clone army, the situation suddenly became extremely dangerous. The war could be ended in a day if they did not escape. If Dooku was caught, the war was over.

"Patience, Kenobi, we are going. They won't be able to find us."

"Don't underestimate the Jedi," he growled, pulling his hood over his head. "I have ordered the evacuation of the foundries. The _Malevolence_ and the _Negotiator_ managed to escape to Mustafar before the Republic came." Dooku nodded.

"Well done."

"I _know_ it was well done," he growled, rolling his eyes, "you don't need to tell me it was well done. _Get on the ship_."

"You aren't my Master, Lumis," the Count drawled, coming close to the nervous Sith Lord as he swiftly worked at a control console upon the wall, preparing the hanger to release the ship.

"I _know_ I'm not your Master, you idiot. If you are sore about what I did to you earlier, you can have it out with me all you like. On. The. _Ship_."

Dooku scoffed, turning from the Sith to walk up the ramp into the solar sailor, and he stopped in his tracks. Qui-Gon Jinn and Anakin Skywalker ran into the room, blue sabers blazing. The Count looked back to see Obi-Wan, his face hidden by the hood, but his golden eyes glowing with the power of the Dark Side and fixed on his old Master's face.

Qui-Gon put a hand out in front of his Padawan, stopping the teen from advancing. His dark blue eyes surveyed the scene, his senses alert and the chill in the Force nearly freezing him to the spot. "Do nothing reckless, Anakin," he whispered, eyes locking with Dooku's as the Sith drew his weapon. "There are two of them."

"Master, that's the Negotiator."

"I suspect so."

Dooku started to move forward, but the smooth, slow, mocking drawl of " _Master_ ," dripped off the Negotiator's tongue like poison, and Qui-Gon froze, his blue eyes slowly drifting to the blazing gold of the hooded Sith. The hooded man grabbed Dooku harshly by the collar, sending the old man stumbling to face the shorter man. "To the ship. _Now_ ," he hissed, and, with a last look to the Jedi, Dooku slowly walked toward the ship's ramp, a pleased smirk on his face.

Anakin grinned, grabbing his saber tight in his hand and dashing past his Master despite the older man's cries. He needed to get to Dooku before the Sith Lord disappeared into that ship, and he wasn't listening to _anybody_ in that moment. The Negotiator held no power over him. He was stopped suddenly, as if he had hit an invisible wall, the chill in the air freezing him to the spot, his lungs refusing to fill with air. He felt chills run up his spine, as if something was running over him, through him, coiling around him like snaking tendrils of smoke, and for a moment, he could hear nothing but a singular word.

" _Kneel_."

The Padawan dropped to his knees with a cry, his hand shaking to hold the lightsaber toward the one that issued the command, but the Negotiator wasn't even looking at him. He was looking at Qui-Gon, blue saber held out, cautiously, carefully drawing closer to his student. "They call you the Negotiator," Qui-Gon said softly. "Fine. Let's negotiate."

"We are well beyond that, Qui-Gon." Anakin watched his Master freeze, the blade in his hand shaking as he listened to the crisp accent of the hooded man. Skywalker reached out to his Master with the Force and found fear, memories flooding through his panicked mind, and above all else, there was denial. Gritting his teeth, Anakin stood and rushed to his Master, and Qui-Gon's heavy hand fell on his shoulder, gripping him for balance.

"Master, come on, focus, get a hold of yourself!"

"I know that voice..." the Master intoned, his voice dead, lifeless, and Anakin's eyes shot to the Negotiator as he laughed softly, his hands pulling the heavy black cloak off his shoulders and tossing it to the side.

Anakin stood up taller. He didn't know what he was expecting, but it wasn't what he saw. The man was young, his tousled hair and neatly trimmed beard a sandy blond, and he dressed in fine, elegant black robes and tunic trimmed with red. Modesty clearly wasn't one of his virtues, as the man was pristinely kept, and those piercing, golden eyes were burning with intelligence, visibly glowing even without the shadows of his hood. Above all else, though, the man was absolutely _soaked_ in the Dark Side, the violence of the Force raging around him like a tempest.

Anakin grinned. He and his Master could take this Sith. He raised his saber, glaring at the man. "You'll pay for the Jedi you've killed today."

"Me?" The Negotiator chuckled. "I haven't killed anyone."

"Come on, Master, we can take him!" But he didn't feel his Master's comforting presence at his side. Instead, he heard Qui-Gon drop to his knees and slump back on his heels, his dark blue eyes wide, his pupils narrow pinpoints as he focused on the Negotiator. "Master? _Master, come on_."

Qui-Gon seemed not to hear Anakin. All he could do was stare in disbelief, and quietly choke, " _Obi-Wan_."

"... _what_?" Skywalker's eyes shot to the smirking man, his arms crossed in front of his chest, his gold eyes glowing with amusement. "No, it can't be. Master, Obi-Wan is _dead_!"

"From a certain point of view," the Negotiator drawled, "I suppose that would be true."

"... _you_?" Anakin asked, standing and facing the man, his lightsaber held relaxed at his side. " _You're_ Obi-Wan Kenobi?"

The man bowed deeply, his golden eyes never leaving the Padawan's face. "I'm a bit insulted you don't remember me, Anakin Skywalker. But _I_ remember _you_." Kenobi laughed harshly when those blue eyes widened. "You helped set me down this path, after all."

"Stop..." Qui-Gon choked from the ground, his hand tightly clutching around the lightsaber, and Anakin could feel himself _burn_. This creature wasn't Obi-Wan Kenobi, and he couldn't allow it to stand here and torment his Master. "Obi-Wan, please, leave him out of this..."

"But he's a part of it, _isn't he, Master_?" the man snarled, his voice mocking and angry, and Qui-Gon shook. "If you hadn't taken him from that pathetic _waste_ of a planet, if you hadn't tossed me away for a _slave_ , none of this would have happened!"

Anakin had enough, and he felt rage consume him, and with a vicious yell, young Skywalker threw himself at the Negotiator, blade angled right at the man's heart, but Kenobi deftly stepped to the side, swiftly drawing his own weapon as Anakin shot past. The red blade thrummed to life, and Anakin eyed the weapon, breathing hard and looking at his Master, looking so much older than he was, much more weary than he had ever been, like the very life had been drained from him.

"So much for peaceful negotiations," Anakin snarled, and Kenobi spun the blade deftly in his hand.

"This? You're the one that attacked me. I drew my weapon in self-defense." He chuckled softly as he felt the boy's anger grow. "Who sounds like the Sith now, _Skywalker_."

The Padawan threw himself at Kenobi again, much more ferocious than before, but it didn't phase the Sith Lord. If anything, it seemed to amuse him, each heavy strike, each cry of fury making the man grin wider, the yellow eyes glow brighter. Anakin rained swift, heavy blows down on the Sith, only to have the man easily block and parry his every strike. He could not break the man's defense. Their blades locked when Kenobi effortlessly ducked under a wild swing and brought his saber swiftly around and down on the hapless Padawan, Skywalker only just barely blocking the swift, precision strike and struggling as the grinning Sith pressed his red blade ever closer.

"Look at you..." he drawled softly, leaning close to the Jedi, and Anakin shivered as the yellow eyes bore into him. "You're positively _filled_ with the Dark Side...is this what Qui-Gon creates? A line of _fallen Jedi_."

Rage gripped him, and he swung his blue saber around, forcing the Sith to back off, the amusement fading from the golden eyes and replaced with pure fury. Anakin did not relent, furiously beating against the Sith's defense, his connection to the Force straining through the violence of his attack. It only took a second, the red blade quickly moving up to strike at Anakin's blue weapon, a quick change from his earlier deflections, and it was enough to set the Padawan off balance for a fraction of a second. But it was enough.

The red lightsaber twisted in the Sith's grip, bringing the weapon arching upward, the crimson bade connecting with Anakin's right elbow and effortlessly cutting right through, Skywalker's eyes wide with shock as he watched his lightsaber fall to the ground next to his severed arm. The Negotiator held out his hand, and the Force rushed through him, hitting Anakin square in the chest and sending him flying backwards, skidding to a stop next to his Master.

The shock was beginning to wear off, and watching his old student disfigure his current one was sobering enough to pull Qui-Gon Jinn back to the present. He stood, his legs shaking, but he managed, and he pointed his glowing blue weapon at Obi-Wan. The Sith Lord smirked, tilting his head and observing the Master curiously.

"You would raise my own weapon against me, Qui-Gon?" The Master said nothing, and Obi-Wan held up his own red lightsaber. "This blade came from the weapon that almost killed you. Shall we see if it can hit it's mark this time?"

"How could you do this..." The blade in his hand trembled, and Kenobi scoffed, pacing around the Master and the fallen Padawan.

"I didn't do this, you did. This was _all_ you." He stopped, golden eyes looking toward the ceiling, and then he shook his head. "Perhaps not _all_ you. The Jedi Council didn't help matters much." His golden eyes narrowed, drifting toward the Padawan on the ground that was struggling to hold onto consciousness, his hand gripped tightly to the seared flesh of his amputation. "You replaced me with _that_ , Qui-Gon? How is that working out?" The Master stood, at a loss for words, and Obi-Wan laughed, pointing his blade at the fallen Anakin. "You must be so disappointed in him. I _killed_ my first Sith Lord. Wasn't he supposed to be better than me? In _every_ way?"

"I led you to this..." The blue eyes narrowed, looking his former student over, and he shivered. "I can understand your anger, Obi-Wan, the rift between us was wide, and deep, but the _Sith_?! How could you join _them_!"

"The Sith," he drawled smoothly, slowly stepping toward the Master, "gave me everything I wanted. They gave me power I could never have as a Jedi. I'm stronger than _you_ , for certain."

"You were always stronger than me."

"And I'm stronger than _him_ ," Kenobi snarled, the blade pointing menacingly at the prone Skywalker. "Your _wonder child_. The boy you threw me away for. You tell me, was it worth it? Knowing what you know now, was it _worth_ bringing that boy to you?" He scoffed, laughing harshly as Qui-Gon slowly put himself between the Sith and his fallen Padawan. "So much for the greatest Force potential you have ever seen. He is _nothing_."

"I spent _years_ mourning you, my Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said softly, raising his weapon and eyes narrowing in Focus.

"I'm not _your_ Obi-Wan."

"You are. You _always_ will be." He stepped forward, the lightsaber held at his hip, blade angled toward the Sith Lord. "You're the Sith Apprentice?" Kenobi nodded, a wicked smirk on his lips. "Dooku is your Master then?"

Obi-Wan stared at Qui-Gon, and a wide grin slowly spread across his face before he erupted into hapless, unrestrained laughter. "Dooku, the _Sith Master_? That is the most absurd thing I have ever heard. He is _nothing_."

Qui-Gon nodded. "Just checking. We all thought you were dead, but this is worse. The Jedi will believe you truly lost." He closed his eyes, breathing deep. "But I'm not losing you again. Come back. I can help you."

"I don't _need_ help, Qui-Gon," the Sith snarled, his previously amused features becoming harsh and vicious. "I chose this, I _wanted_ this!"

Neither was sure who moved first, but the red and blue sabers clashed in a fury of sparks, the blades humming from the contact, the Dark Side surging around the Sith Lord and the Jedi Master centered within the Force. Qui-Gon was fast, faster than Obi-Wan had expected, especially for an aging man, and he slipped back into the easy comfort of his defensive style, allowing the Master to rain strikes against the red blade in his hand. Kenobi moved gracefully, retreating as the Jedi pressed a furious offense, trying to get between Qui-Gon and Skywalker, but the Master saw the game that Obi-Wan was playing and carefully continued to guard Anakin.

Kenobi spun, striking low, and the Master easily blocked it, but had to move swiftly to bring the blue blade up to block the vicious downward strike, his arms shaking under the strain as the blades locked. The Sith was younger, faster, stronger than the Jedi Master, and the hard offense was beginning to take its toll on Qui-Gon.

"I see you haven't changed," Kenobi purred, the anger that was etched on his face before gone and replaced again by amusement. The Sith was enjoying this. "But I think it's time for this to end, I have a ship to catch. This _has_ been fun, though. We should do it again."

Qui-Gon angled his blade down, the red saber sliding off to the side, and the Jedi swung his saber around his head, the blue plasma leaving an arching trail in the air as it slashed down at the Sith, but the golden-eyed man ducked under the blade, the weapon narrowly missing the man's neck. The Sith held his hand out, and Qui-Gon suddenly found himself lifted into the air, a crushing grip on his throat, and the Jedi dropped his lightsaber as he clawed at the intangible hands of the Force.

"You would kill me, Master?" Kenobi asked sweetly, but his tone was mocking and vicious, and the Jedi's chest began to spasm and heave as he choked for air. "I'm offended, you know how I loathe violence..." He released his grasp slightly, just enough for Qui-Gon to suck in thin breaths of air, just enough to keep the man conscious and alive. His yellow eyes drifted to Skywalker, the young Jedi grunting in pain as he struggled to get to his feet, but he could not. A smooth smirk spread across the Sith's face. "Let me show you something, Qui-Gon. Watch closely now."

Obi-Wan's left hand was slightly elevated, holding Qui-Gon aloft and choking him, the red blazing blade in his right, and the Jedi looked in horror as the Sith Lord locked eyes with Anakin, the Padawan's face contorting in rage, but Kenobi just smiled.

"Come here, Anakin." The Padawan gasped, the rage falling from his face, and slowly, with a strength that wasn't his own, Skywalker rose, slowly shuffling to stand before the Sith Lord. Qui-Gon struggled, kicking his legs, trying to call out to his student, but his throat was held too tightly. "Kneel." Anakin did, slowly, his body shaking as his mind resisted, but the Sith Lord was firmly lodged in his mind, the intense pain of his severed arm diverting his focus, preventing him from raising any kind of defense at all.

The Sith Lord chuckled, low and deep and throughly amused as a strangled cry was torn from the throat of the Jedi Master. "Once a slave, always a slave," he purred, glancing up at the struggling Qui-Gon, his efforts to break free renewed. "Shall I show you? Anakin, darling." The hazy blue eyes drifted to the Sith Lord's face, his red saber held easily at his side. The yellow eyes glanced down to it, Skywalker's gaze following. "Put the blade at your throat."

A tremor ran through the teen, the words echoing in his head until they became louder and louder, a deafening roar that blocked out the sound of his Master struggling, the soft chuckling of the Sith, the thrum of the crimson lightsaber, the pounding of his own heart. With a shaking hand, Anakin reached up and gently, carefully grabbed Kenobi's wrist, and, tilting his head back, he drew the Sith's hand toward him, the deadly blade less than an inch from his exposed neck, his tremulous hand moving the blade just enough to make the saber waiver ever closer.

"You see, Qui-Gon? _Always_ a slave. He will never be anything else." He looked up at the suspended Master, a cruel smirk on his lips as the Padawan whimpered and the other Jedi gasped for breath. "That's all you Jedi are. Slaves to a corrupt Republic. And slaves were made to be ruled. Wonoksh Qyâsik nun. The Code of the Sith demands it."

Qui-Gon ceased his struggling and closed his eyes. He wanted it to be over. He had failed Anakin, he had failed the Jedi and the Republic, but above all else, he had failed Obi-Wan Kenobi when the growing boy had needed him most. His fallen student was right. This was the Master's fault. The pain returned, the wound on his heart from the boy's death reopening and torn far worse than before. The rift between them, all their conflict, especially toward the end seemed so meaningless now. If he had been more aware, more in tune with the needs of the boy, this would never have happened. Qui-Gon took in a thin, wispy breath and held it, waiting for the end to come.

But it never did.

Instead of the tightening around his throat that he had come to expect, Qui-Gon felt the grip loosen, not enough to drop him, but enough for the Jedi to exhale easily and take in a long, deep breath of air, his lungs burning fiercely from the flood of oxygen. The Sith stood still, his hand tight around his lightsaber, breath held and focus turned away from the two Jedi in his grasp as Yoda, Grandmaster of the Jedi Order, hobbled into the hanger.

He watched him carefully, the diminutive Jedi stopping a fair distance away, his hands tightly grasping the top of his stick, his wide eyes narrowed in focus as he took the measure of the Sith before him. "Obi-Wan Kenobi," the Master rasped, his hands tightening. "A funny way, you have, of being dead."

Kenobi hissed and deactivated his weapon. A lightsaber would not help him here. Yoda didn't use a lightsaber. Yoda didn't need to. He raised his other hand and Anakin rose into the air, his body limp as he slipped into unconsciousness. "A lot of Jedi have died today, Yoda. Don't make me kill these two as well."

"If going to kill them, you were, than dead, they would be." Yoda pointed his stick at the Sith Lord. "Obi-Wan, you still are."

"Don't you _dare_ try to lecture me, _Jedi_!" Kenobi snarled, his grip on the Jedi tightening hard, and Qui-Gon renewed his struggling, the unconscious Anakin twitching reflexively as his body was deprived of air. Yoda lowered his stick and took a few steps back, one hand in the air in an attempt to placate the Sith.

"Powerful, you have become, Obi-Wan." The Master frowned, his brow wrinkling as he stared at the Sith. "The Dark Side, I sense in you."

" _Anyone_ can sense that. But even you couldn't sense it when it mattered!"

"Right, you are." The golden eyes widened, focusing on the ancient Master, his grip on the Jedi easing, and Qui-Gon gasped for breath. "Failed you, the Jedi have."

Dooku peaked out from the ship, and his eyes widened when he saw Yoda, the other two Jedi still alive, and Darth Lumis doing _nothing_ to kill any of them. " _Kenobi_!" The younger man tensed, snarling viciously, but eyes not leaving Yoda. "We need to go _now_. The clone troopers are on the way."

"I can get us away safely, a _clone_ cannot out-fly me."

" _Lots_ of clones."

"...call in Grievous for air support. The _Malevolence_ should be in orbit." Dooku nodded, ducking into the ship after giving Master Yoda a glare that was equal parts wary and vicious. Kenobi smiled brightly. "Time to go, Yoda."

Yoda dropped the stick as the engines of the ship powered up, his big eyes narrowed in focus, and his two hands extended before him, and Obi-Wan felt the weight of the Force around him. "Allow you to leave, I cannot," the Master rasped, and Obi-Wan couldn't help but laugh, the Dark Side roaring to life around him as he pushed back against the Jedi Master.

"But you will. You _have_ to." He stepped forward, taking a lightsaber from the back of his belt and clipping it on to Qui-Gon's belt. Kenobi grinned when the struggling Master looked down at him, confused, hurt and betrayed. "Give that back to Quinlan, would you? Tell him he's going to need it when we meet." With a casual flick of his wrist, Obi-Wan sent Qui-Gon and Anakin flying out the hanger bay, the hard, steel floor dropping away to sand and stone far, far beneath them as they began to fall.

Yoda's eyes shot to the Jedi, and reached out to grab them with the Force, holding on to them tightly and bringing them back into the hanger. When they were on solid ground, their safety assured, Yoda turned to face the Sith, only to find the man had disappeared inside the ship, the entry hatch closed and sealed and the engines roaring as the thrusters were engaged. The three Jedi were right in the path of the solar sailor, and Yoda had to use the Force to pull Anakin and Qui-Gon out of the way, their bodies striking the far wall hard with the force of it, the speed necessary to clear them from the ship's path as the accelerator was slammed forward, and the Sith's ship raced out of the hanger as speeds much faster than could be considered safe.

They were gone, the talented pilot at the helm easily outmaneuvering the airborne clone transports and starships. With a heavy sigh, Yoda reached down and grabbed his stick, hobbling to the two Jedi he had saved. Qui-Gon held Anakin, the young Padawan unconscious and disfigured, and Yoda could sense the suffering Master tremble, his presence in the Force, once vibrant and bright, was dull and thin and wounded beyond repair.


	20. The Morning After

The Clone Wars had begun. The Battle of Geonosis ended in victory for the Republic, but there wasn't a single Jedi that considered the battle a victory. One hundred and seventy nine Jedi were dead, and a heap of broken droids and destroyed ships didn't even begin to measure up to the lives lost by the Jedi and the five thousand clones that died fighting beside them.

And then there was Obi-Wan.

The Jedi's legendary Sithkiller was alive and thriving in the embrace of the Dark Side, working in the shadows against the Republic as the Negotiator for _years_. The Jedi almost didn't believe Anakin when he was picked up, shouting and screaming and waiving his stub around and crying Sith Lord to all that would listen. He was frantic, panicked, in a state of shock, and all boys his age aspired to being like the legendary Kenobi. It was hardly surprising the dead man's name would be on his lips when Anakin had fought a Sith himself. Qui-Gon had said nothing about it at all; he didn't say _anything_. But Master Yoda, calm and wise and centered in all things, confirmed the ranting Skywalker's claims. Obi-Wan was alive, and he was Sith.

Anakin lay in the infirmary as medical droids tended to his arm. It was his _good_ arm. He wasn't happy for _several_ reasons, but the only one he could think about without having a complete breakdown was his arm. Barriss Offee sat at his side, his one hand clasped tightly in her own, her blue eyes distant and haunted. She had been on Geonosis, had seen the death, the pain, and the empathetic Mirialan was scarred by it. Her Master Luminara stood by the wall next to Quinlan Vos, the Kiffar tightly clutching his lightsaber in his hand and speaking in whispers to the woman beside him.

Qui-Gon was at the window, his dark blue eyes staring blankly out at nothing at all. He hadn't spoken since they returned. He didn't even acknowledge that anyone _was_ speaking. Anakin couldn't look at him. The Negotiator killed nobody that day, but he may as well have killed Qui-Gon Jinn.

"Anakin," Barriss said softly, and the Padawan looked at the girl, smiling softly. "Do you think we'll be sent to war?"

He nodded. "They're going to need all the Jedi they can get."

"We aren't Jedi, we're just learners."

"Well, yeah...but we're damn good ones." The Mirialan's eyebrow arched, her blue eyes drifting to Anakin's missing arm, and he felt himself flush. "...w-well, you're good..."

"You're better than I am. That Sith Lord would have killed me."

"He would have killed me too. I'm not alive because I was good, I'm alive because Master Yoda came to save us."

"You're alive because your Sith was _Obi-Wan_ ," Quinlan snarled, gripping his lightsaber tighter.

"Quinlan..." Luminara cautioned, but the Kiffar waived her off.

"Obi-Wan was _never_ about killing people if he could avoid it. If he wanted you dead, you would be, Skywalker. He was one of the best Jedi I've ever known."

"He's _dead_ , Quinlan," Luminara hissed, and the man narrowed his brown eyes, the tattoo on his face twitching as he snarled.

" _He's not dead, Luminara_!"

"He is _Sith_! The man we knew is dead, that thing isn't our Obi-Wan!"

"Sith, _yes_ , but Obi-Wan Kenobi is still in there!" He took a deep breath. "Everything we know about the Negotiator, _everything_ about him screams Obi-Wan. All of it. I mean, he gave me back my _lightsaber_."

"With a _threat_."

"It was playful!"

"It wasn't _playful,_ Quinlan, he wants to _kill you_!"

"He always wanted to kill me!"

Luminara glared at the obstinate Kiffar. "I let go of Obi-Wan a long time ago. You didn't, and now _this_ is happening. You're allowing the Sith to manipulate you! He needs to die."

"Well, _of course_ he needs to die, I know that! But we aren't going to be able to do that if we don't _know_ our enemy! The fact that this is Kenobi is _good_ for us!"

"Masters, _please_!" The arguing friends looked at Anakin's pleading face. "Don't...talk about that around Master Qui-Gon, please..."

The two flushed, Quinlan red and Luminara green, and they looked to the other Master in the room. "We're sorry, Qui-Gon," Master Vos said softly.

"It was insensitive."

Qui-Gon said nothing. He didn't even move.

Quinlan sighed. "When did this start? How could he fall right under our noses like that?"

"Maybe Dooku captured him on Serenno," Luminara said softly. "Even the most powerful Jedi could fall to the Dark Side with the right torture."

"No," Anakin said, shaking his head. "He said he chose it. He..." Skywalker stopped, biting his lip and looking away nervously, and the two Masters came closer, pulling chairs to sit close beside the teen. "He said he fell because of me and Master Qui-Gon."

"...he _did_ learn the Sith language," Quinlan said softly. "I thought it was for the mission we were going on, but...maybe he was studying it for other reasons."

"He was always so calm and in control," Luminara whispered, "but once, I felt...rage from him, intense and sudden, and then there was nothing. Maybe that's how he always felt."

"When was this?" Quinlan asked, and Luminara closed her blue eyes.

"Just after our trip to Dathomir. He also requested access to the Forbidden Archive around then. Like you, I thought it was for his hunt, but-"

"But he may not have been looking for the Sith to kill them," Quinlan finished, crossing his arms over his chest, his entire body shivering as he exhaled. "He once entered my mind. He was telling me how he... _altered_ the mind trick. At the time, he said the Council would disapprove, and...w-well, I encouraged it, I thought-"

Luminara held his hand. "It wasn't your fault, Quinlan."

"Of course it was my fault! I spent over a year with him in close quarters, how could I not sense this? How could I not see him change?!"

"...perhaps you are right. Perhaps...he is more of himself than I thought. Maybe we could not see his change because the change was _small._ " She whimpered, put her face in her hands and silently cried, her Padawan coming next to her and holding her close. Quinlan looked to the Mirialans, and he sighed deeply, feeling the tug of pain in his own chest as well. The entire Order was feeling it. They were all in shock now, but the feeling would wear off soon enough to be replaced with...he didn't know what. Something else.

A droid rolled in, holding the mechanical arm that was to be fitted onto Qui-Gon's Padawan, and Anakin eyed it cautiously. "Skywalker." The blue eyes drifted to the Kiffar. "Do you remember anything else?"

Anakin bit his lip. "He...I can't explain what he did, Master Vos. He...was in my mind. I heard him speak, he gave me commands and...I-I _had_ to obey. I didn't have a choice. He made me put his lightsaber at my neck, a-and I _did it_. I tried to resist, I did, but-"

"...he was in my mind too. Not when he was Sith, but..." The Kiffar sighed, closing his eyes and his jaw clenching. "He looked through my mind like it was a book. Obi-Wan was never one for fighting, he'd do just about anything to avoid conflict. That he developed the ability to control people is...expected, really."

"Though he is one of the most talented lightsaber duelists I've ever seen," Luminara said softly, her voice tight as she struggled to control her emotions. "We sparred often, up to the days before he di-...before he _fell_. Master Windu was better, but if he's now using the power of the Dark Side, his skills must be terrifying."

"We know they are, because we know what the Negotiator can do. He's reading minds, he's controlling people, and it's _very_ Obi-Wan."

Luminara nodded. "You're right. It's...very like him. Things were... _easier_ when he was dead."

"I wish he was." Quinlan shook his head. "This isn't an easy enemy to have. This is _way_ worse than Dooku."

The Masters were silent for a long while, the quiet broken only by Anakin's gasps and hisses of pain as the mechanical arm was set. Skywalker reached out to his Master as the arm was tested, the connections made, the digits moving when he wiggled them, but Qui-Gon's Force presence was dead, still and unmoving like stagnant water. "...isn't it a good thing? I mean, we know him, right?" Anakin asked softly, and the Kiffar shook his head.

"It's never good to have an enemy like that, and there's no telling how much the Dark Side has changed him. Just because he's _acting_ like Obi-Wan doesn't mean he's the same man."

"I'm worried about his ability to control people," Luminara said softly. "Those without the Force to protect them have no chance at all. We don't even know if it's safe to send Jedi against him. Early stages of his fall have shown him reading Quinlan's mind, and he could _control_ you."

"How can we kill him if we can't fight him!" Anakin cried, his mechanical hand clenching, and in a moment, he forgot his anger and his exasperation and grinned, wiggling the fingers toward Barriss and the other Padawan laughed.

"We don't." Four pairs of eyes shot to the window. He hadn't moved, but Qui-Gon had definitely spoken. "We don't kill him. We save him."

"Qui-Gon," Luminara said softly, rising from her seat. "Our Obi-Wan is already dead. This Sith Lord-"

The older Master's fist slammed into the window, the thick glass shaking under the impact, and Luminara winced. "This Sith Lord is _my student_. My responsibility, he fell because of _me_! He's in there, Luminara, it's _him_ , he-" His voice cracked, and the Master slid down the wall, clutching himself tightly and shaking as he sobbed. Anakin threw his legs over the side of the bed and rushed to his Master, wrapping his arms around him and stroking the long hair with his organic hand. This was a wound that could never be healed, and Anakin gripped his Master tighter, the man hopelessly and irrevocably broken.

"What if," Quinlan drawled, "he's more himself than we think? If he's still Obi-Wan, if we go to him to _talk_..."

"He's the _Negotiator_ ," Luminara said forcefully. "Talking is his business. It's far, far too dangerous. He can control people."

"We don't know the extent of his powers, do we?" Quinlan hit his saber against his open palm. "The Council thinks I'm... _close_ to the Dark Side, but I've never felt like less of a Jedi for it. Obi-Wan has always been reasonable. And the Sith _have_ changed..."

"Have they?" Luminara crossed her arms. "Everything we know about the Sith, we learned from him. We don't know when he fell. We don't know if he was giving us bad information." Her voice wavered as she said it, and Quinlan shook his head.

"We do know, Luminara. You can feel it. _I_ can feel it. Obi-Wan may have been...darker, but he wasn't Sith until he was sent to apprehend Dooku."

"We are Jedi," Qui-Gon said softly, his voice almost a whisper and completely devoid of emotion. "We have to save him."

"We can't-"

"We have to _try_. If we go after him with the intent to kill him, we're no better than the Sith." The Master slowly nodded, his dark blue eyes focusing, and Anakin grinned broadly as he felt the faintest light of life spark in his Master. "We need to hang on to hope, or we are lost as well."

"Maybe," Barriss said quietly from her place by the bed, "it's...unwise to wildly speculate. We are just causing pain and distress. Master Yoda was there. He will have answers."

The Masters nodded. The Padawan was right. Anakin helped Qui-Gon to his feet, and the five Jedi left for the Council. They had _much_ to discuss.

* * *

Like they had been so often recently, the Council was in chaos, but they settled down quickly, all of them rising when Qui-Gon entered with his Padawan. There were only eight Masters now. Four seats remained empty. Nobody in the Temple was unaffected by the Battle of Geonosis. There was silence, and it was uncomfortable.

"So, war is basically the worst," Quinlan drawled, his hand resting easily on his hip, and the tension was broken nearly instantly. "Do we know what's happening yet?"

"The Jedi will be serving as Generals in the army," Mace said quietly. Even the mighty Master Windu was subdued. "Many Masters have already been deployed. Geonosis didn't do any good for our numbers, and this war won't either. We need to start preparing younger Jedi for combat. Quinlan." The Kiffar stood up straight. "Aayla Secura is a testament to your excellent teaching, even if your methods are... _unusual_."

Quinlan clutched at his chest, his brown eyes in shock. " _What_? You're complimenting me? Are you feeling well?"

"You need to take another Padawan."

"...aw, _shit_." Quinlan sighed. "Like, now? I thought we were going to war."

"We _are_ going to war, and you need a Padawan to train in the heat of combat so we can knight them and send them off to replace the Jedi we are going to lose."

"So...now."

"After the meeting, yes." The Kiffar began cursing under his breath, and Mace sighed. "I can assume why you've come here..."

"We need to talk about Obi-Wan," Luminara stated plainly, and the chamber was instantly uncomfortable again, but Yoda nodded.

"Agree, I do."

"We were trying to discuss it earlier, but we...don't have a good idea where to start. We all have very different opinions."

Yoda nodded. "The past matters not. Matters not, why Obi-Wan fell."

"Woah, wait a second!" Quinlan said swiftly. "Of course it matters, if we can understand why, we can-"

"Pain, there is, in the past," the Master rasped, and Quinlan bit his lip and looked away. "Doubt, there is, in why. Fear and anger, there is. Let go of why, you must."

Luminara looked down at the ground, her eyes closed. She felt foolish for not understanding this from the beginning. "Yes, Master. We shall try to let go of him-"

Yoda stopped her quickly with a quick laugh, and the Mirialan felt _foolish_ , like she was a youngling once again. "Let go, you must not. Gone, Obi-Wan is not. Changed, yes. Gone?" The Master chuckled. "Fallen to the Dark Side, he has, but dead, he is not."

"Isn't it the same thing? He's just Sith now," Quinlan growled, and the little Master shook his head.

"A Jedi, are you, Quinlan?"

The Kiffar scoffed, crossing his arms. He had already had enough. The subject was almost too painful. "Of course."

"And you, Luminara? A Jedi as well?"

"Yes, Master."

"The same, are you?" Yoda asked, his small features smiling sagely when the Mirialan's nose wrinkled, her blue eyes drifting to the similar looking Kiffar.

"Force, I hope not," she said, eying the other Master warily, and Quinlan grinned, leaning in toward the small woman.

"Oh, you wish, Luminara. I could show you _such_ things..."

"I'm not a lascivious degenerate."

"No, but you _could_ be..." he purred, leaning in closer, and the Mirialan flushed, putting her hand on his tattooed face and pushing him away. "Ah, who needs you, you prude..."

Yoda chuckled at the Mirialan's discomfort, the Kiffar's rejection, and he pointed his stick at them. "Jedi, you are, yes. But the same, you are not. A Sith Lord, Obi-Wan is. Dangerous, it is, to make assumptions. Like Dooku, he is not. Like his Master, he is not. Remain mindful, we must, if the truth, we are to learn." He closed his eyes, his face serene, his ears lowering. "Know two things, we must. His powers and his character, we must learn."

"...we know he's smart," Quinlan said softly after a short period of silence. "The Dark Side wouldn't change that."

"And he's a skilled duelist," the Mirialan added. Discussing things in front of the Council really helped matters, made her more comfortable. Under Yoda's guidance, they would find the way. "When he left us, he was studying Soresu."

"He still uses it," Qui-Gon said softly, and all eyes turned to him. "When we fought, it's nearly all he used, he-" The Master stopped, choking on his words, and he looked down at the patterns on the floor, shoulders trembling with emotion. He could not go on. Anakin took his hand in his own.

"He can control people," Skywalker said, speaking for the desolate Qui-Gon. "He controlled me. He just... _spoke_ and I had to listen, I didn't have a choice. And Quinlan said he could read minds, so...I'm guessing that's how he's so successful as the Negotiator." As second later, Yoda's stick hit the Padawan in the head, the ancient Master having thrown it at him, and Anakin grimaced as it struck him, glaring at Quinlan and Luminara as the two Masters tried, unsuccessfully, to stifle their laughter.

"Assumptions, you must not make. Intelligent, Obi-Wan is," Yoda rasped, a gentle pull of the Force bringing his stick back to his outstretched, three-fingered hand. "And patient, he has always been. Power, he has, to shape the will of others. But need it, he does not, to get what he wants."

"He could have killed us," Qui-Gon whispered, but everyone in the room heard him. "Many times over, he could have killed us, but he didn't."

"He was arrogant," Luminara said quickly. "He thought he had you beat, so he was toying with you. Given enough time, you would have been killed."

"I don't think so. He felt..." Qui-Gon took in a shuddering breath, closing his eyes as he collected himself. "I felt anger in him. Pain and betrayal and cruelty and _so_ much power. But...I don't think he meant to kill us. There was something else, I-" He shook his head, his voice reduced to a low whimper. "I don't know what I saw..."

"The measure of the Negotiator, we have not," Yoda said, his brow wrinkling in concentration. "But an opportunity, we have." The little Master poked Mace with his stick, and Windu snapped to attention, nodding in acknowledgment.

"The Senate received a message from the Negotiator this morning." The five Jedi in the center of the room froze, holding their collective breaths. "A response to the petition to enter negotiations."

"We are _at war_!" Anakin said forcefully, his mechanical hand clutching tightly. "I think we're past that point now!"

"War can't end without eventually sitting down and talking, Anakin." Luminara crossed her arms. "At some point, peace _must_ be made. The Republic won't just destroy the systems that have broken away."

"No, but the Separatists will. Isn't that what they want? They want to splinter the Republic!"

"You have _so_ much to learn, Anakin," Luminara said softly, and the Padawan shut his mouth. "They want to be free of the Republic, and at some point, we're all going to end up at a table to sit down and discuss terms. How many lives must be lost before we get to that point?"

"What does the Negotiator want?" Quinlan asked, and Mace bowed his head.

"In light of the events of Geonosis, he agrees that negotiations should be arranged." He frowned. "I don't like it. It feels like a trap."

"But the Senate proposed it, didn't they?" Luminara felt her chest tighten. It _did_ feel like a trap, but not one they were walking in to. They were already in it. "If they refuse, it makes the Republic look bad. We'll lose even more allies, and we certainly can't afford it."

"We thought that as well," Master Windu growled. "The Senate has asked for our opinion on the matter, but I can see no way where we can get out of this. It's become a matter of discussing _how_ we will meet him, not if." Anakin wriggled uncomfortably at his Master's side, and his discomfort did not go unnoticed by the Council. "What is it, Skywalker?" Windu drawled, laying his cheek in his hands and preparing for the worst.

"This...may have been my idea? _Maybe_?"

There was silence, and then Master Yoda began laughing. Windu couldn't even be angry at this. "Are you completely stupid, Skywalker..."

"Yes, Master, absolutely..."

"We need to do it." Every eye in the room looked to Qui-Gon, the quiet, crestfallen Master looking up with fierce determination in his dark blue eyes.

"Of course we need to, we don't have a choice in-"

"Not for the Republic. For _him_." He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "...of course for the Republic. If we take him from the Sith, if we bring him home..." Qui-Gon could feel in the Force the disapproval, the reluctance, the fear from the other Masters, but he would not be turned away from this course. He kept his eyes closed; it was easier if he couldn't see his colleagues. " _I_ did this. This is my fault. If I was more attentive, more sensitive..."

"Your fault, this was not, Qui-Gon," Yoda whispered, but Master Jinn shook his head.

"I should have sensed this. He was my _Padawan_. I was closer to him than anyone." He drew up tall, looking directly at Yoda. "I must set this right. I _must_ try. If he's coming to meet peacefully on behalf of the Confederacy, I don't think he will be hostile. This may be our only chance to bring Obi-Wan home to us. Before it's too late for him. _Please_."

They were silent for a long while, the Council like an immovable wall, bitter and sore by the loss of nearly two hundred Jedi. Looking to the suffering Qui-Gon, Luminara stepped forward, drawing to her full height. "If we can bring him away from the Separatists, it will be _very_ good for the Republic."

"Hell, if we can bring him away from the Sith, it will be very bad for _them_ ," Quinlan drawled, standing akimbo and relaxed, a cocky smirk on his face. "I mean, this is insane, and it's not going to work, but...well, Anakin's alive, isn't he?"

"Reluctant to kill him, Obi-Wan seemed," Yoda said softly, nodding. "Agree with you, I do, Qui-Gon." He pointed his stick at the three Masters. "But strong, the Dark Side is. Firm in its grasp, Obi-Wan is. Prepared to fail, you must be."

Mace groaned. "At the very least, we can learn what sort of a man he's grown into." He rubbed his temples, eyes closed and sighing heavily. "We may not even get the opportunity. Negotiations may still fall through, we don't know how the Senate will respond."

"Have we advised them on the matter?" the Mirialan asked, and Windu shook his head.

"Not yet. The Council wanted your opinions first. You are the ones that knew him best."

"Well...what are the options?" the Kiffar asked, and Mace gave a nonchalant shrug.

"It would be easier if we just showed you the holovid he sent." The three Masters collectively sucked in a sharp breath and held it. "It may not be easy for you to see."

Qui-Gon glared. "Master Windu. Yesterday, I saw the boy I mourned for six years, alive and well and _soaked_ in the Dark Side, and it made me wish he _had_ died. I made me wish _I_ died. It cannot be worse." Nodding, Windu activated the hologram in the center of the room, and they all drew back to the edges of the chamber to properly view it.

Qui-Gon could hear Luminara and Quinlan gasp next to him when Obi-Wan's image was projected, blond and well-groomed, his sharp features relaxed, the smirk on his face good-natured. His eyes were different, startlingly so, but they were bright, amused and intelligent, the Dark Side they expected to see there, the hate and pain and rage, was surprisingly absent. Qui-Gon could hear Luminara whimper next to him, and he slowly, gently took her hand, the Mirialan gripping it in a shockingly strong grasp.

The Sith Lord bowed respectfully, righting himself and smoothly purring, "Honored Senators of the Republic. In the wake of the atrocity of Geonosis, I feel the need for diplomacy is more urgent and necessary than ever before."

Anakin scoffed. "Is _anyone_ falling for that?" Barriss elbowed him in the ribs. _Hard_. Anakin stopped talking.

"I'm pleased by your desire to negotiate, though I only wish we could have reached this point sooner, so that we may have spared the lives of so many Jedi. But moving forward, I hope that our talks may be successful." The golden eyes narrowed and the smirk widened, not in anger, but in interested amusement. "I must confess, I am... _offended_ by the conditions you have insisted upon in order to even meet with me. It does not bode well for our talks if you cannot put aside your prejudice and trust me, as countless others have done."

The handsome face relaxed, the amused smirk melting into an easy smile. "But, if you are afraid, I will, of course, submit to your conditions for the sake of peace. If you would feel best with a Jedi guard, they would of course be welcome to attend. However, your insistence on a containment room is...redundant." He smirked, tilting his head slightly in amusement and interest. "If you fear my connection with the Force so much you must block it to feel safe, so be it. However, it renders your Jedi guard obsolete. After all, it would block their ability to connect with the Force as well, and I would _never_ ask the Jedi to suffer in that manner. Removing the comfort of the Force is... _distressing_. However, I'm willing to endure it is a truce can be arranged."

"Oh, that son of a bitch!" Anakin snarled, and Qui-Gon silently put his hand over the Padawan's face.

"I accept your conditions, of course, but not both of them. The Jedi will be present in negotiations, or you will disturb my connection with the Force while I discuss terms alone with your representative. They both serve the same purpose, so there is no need to waste your valuable resources. I do, of course, have conditions of my own." The sly smirk returned, the golden eyes glinting. "We meet on neutral territory. Neither party would feel comfortable anywhere else, not with current hostilities, so we shall meet on Mandalore. I feel that can be easily agreed upon."

Anakin heard Qui-Gon gasp softly, the strong muscles of his back and shoulders tensing, and the Padawan lightly laid his hand on the Master's arm.

"And," Obi-Wan drawled, his voice smooth and clipped accent utterly compelling, "I will _only_ meet with Senator Amidala." The Sith smiled easily. "I am given to understand that she is the one responsible for this proposal, and it pleases me to see that at least one in the Republic is committed to peace. I trust her and her commitment, and her reputation proceeds her. Her time in the Senate has been short, but it is not without merit. Allow her to forge the path to peace with me, and you will not regret it."

The golden eyes narrowed, his handsome face drawn in concern. "But we must be swift. Time is of the essence, now that we are at war. The longer we wait, the more damage is done, the more the innocent will suffer, and the less likely it will be that we find a way for peace. I call for the meeting to happen tomorrow. I cannot stand to wait longer. Extended deliberation on this simple matter is hardly worth the thousands of lives that will be lost while we wait for your decision." He bowed, the yellow eyes closed, his whole being respectful. "I eagerly await your response, honored Senators. May the Force be with you."

The hologram cut, and the three Masters stood in stunned, shocked silence.

"Well, _damn_ ," Quinlan said, whistling. "He looks good. Force, I missed that insufferable accent..."

Mace Windu grit his teeth. " _Quinlan_. This is serious!"

"I know! I'm seriously turned on right now!"

"You were right, Masters," Luminara said quietly. "This is a trap. He's not just forcing our hand to meet with him, he's making us do it _quickly_. There's no time to prepare, and we _have_ to act." She paused, taking in a deep breath. "How many have seen this?"

"Ahsoka saw it playing over the holonet in the city today," Plo Koon said softly, and both Mirialan's groaned loudly.

"So, _everyone_ has seen it. How could the Senate allow this?"

"They didn't," Mace growled. "The holonet was hacked. And _every_ news station picked it up after that. It's been broadcasted at least once an hour."

"Obi-Wan was always so soft-spoken and quiet," she said softly, shaking her head. "The Sith made him into a gifted speaker."

"No, he was always good at that," Quinlan cut in. "He was always sharp and clever, and when he got going, he always got his way. I mean, he even won the _Council_ over. He got everything he wanted." He crossed his arms, his swift mind racing as he searched his memories for his fallen friend. "How much do you think he uses the Dark Side as the Negotiator? How much of what he is doing is mind manipulation? Because he _doesn't_ need it. I mean, look what he's making us do _right now_. The entire Republic is scrambling to get ready to meet with him. There's no Force manipulation there, that's just cleverness."

Luminara nodded. "I agree. Sending the Senator in alone with him is dangerous. We need Jedi present. At least then, we may be able to detect the Dark Side if he is using it."

"I agree," Mace said, his fingers pressing together. "Hopefully the Senate will concur with us. We can still send Jedi as guards when they leave for Mandalore. _If_ they leave. We just can't be present in the negotiations if they decide that she will meet him without us. With any hope, they will see the wisdom of not letting the Senator deal with him alone."

"They _can't_ let her be alone with him!" Anakin shouted, much louder than intended. "I won't stand for it!"

"Anakin, _hush_ ," Qui-Gon hissed, his hand resting on the Padawan's shoulder. "Mandalore is _not_ neutral ground, Masters." Even Master Yoda's eyes narrowed, his ears drawing back as he looked at the Jedi. "Obi-Wan and Duchess Satine have a history, and Quinlan told me that he loved her until we thought he died." He took a deep breath, collecting his thoughts for a moment before he quietly said, "Obi-Wan is Sith, and they are ruled by their passions. The Jedi Code kept him from her before, but without duty to bind him, with his passions _encouraged_...I find it very unlikely that he wouldn't find his way to her."

"You think she's influenced by the Sith?"

"I don't know, but we have to consider it." Qui-Gon crossed his arms. "I know Satine. Please, let me go with the Senator to Mandalore, if she does go."

Yoda nodded. "With you, I will go. The Sith, we must face, and in pain, you are. Need me, you will."

Qui-Gon bowed deeply. "Thank you, Master..."

Yoda folded his little legs under him. "Now, much to discuss, we have."


	21. Diplomatic Immunity

"Remember," Obi-Wan drawled, his long, easy stride taking him through the expanses of the Providence-class dreadnaught that was his to command. "This is a _peace_ mission. No fighting." His companion didn't answer. Her pale eyes just narrowed as she frowned. "...I mean it, Asajj. It all falls through if we start something."

"I thought we _wanted_ it to fall through," she drawled, deadpan, her arms crossed and her entire Force presence screaming boredom.

"We _do_ , my dear, but not with violence. Sometimes that is the least effective way to go about things. My Master wants to discredit Senator Amidala. She is, apparently, extremely irritating to him. Hence the assassination attempt."

"But what if the _Jedi_ are there!" Ventress cried, their footsteps hitting with a metallic twang on the ground as they entered the docking bay and headed toward the Sith Lord's personal cruiser, the sleek black and red ship a sharp contrast to the bulky, military droid crafts that populated the hanger.

"The Jedi will absolutely be there, Asajj, and we're going to be _civil_." He smiled when the woman beside him groaned. "The war has _just_ started. You'll have your chance to kill Jedi, I promise. But not today. And I mean it." He grabbed her arm, stopping her and turning her to face him. "I'm going to be alone with the Senator, and I'm not going to be able to feel you through the Force."

"It's a huge mistake to do this!"

"Yes, _for them_." Kenobi took her hand and patted it, smirking as the Nightsister frowned. "The Jedi are bound to their Code. You and I will be completely safe, so long as we do nothing to provoke them to action. Don't think this is something it isn't."

She frowned, her pale eyes locking on to his handsome face and reaching to him through the Force for comfort, and she found it, the warmth of his presence filling her. "What is this, then?"

"An _opportunity_." He exhaled sharply, running his hand through his hair as he organized his thoughts. "My Master made certain the Senate gave me exactly what I wanted. Alone with the Senator in a containment room is _much_ better than allowing her a Jedi guard to oversee proceedings. It lets me deal with them separately, which I need, since I need to conduct myself _very_ differently with the Senator and the Jedi."

"Why do you even bother..." she drawled lazily, watching droids clank around the hanger, clicking and beeping in their binary language, and she smirked as she saw the Sith Lord glare, his mouth trembling in a repressed snarl. "You're powerful enough to kill them all."

"You've been listening to Dooku too much, my dear."

Ventress punched Kenobi's arm, an amused smirk on her face. "I've been listening to _you_. I know how strong you are."

"My talent is in the Force, Asajj, and I'm giving it up for this meeting."

"Because you are an _idiot_ ," she growled, turning and stalking up the ramp of the sleek cruiser, the Sith Lord following her at an easy pace. "We should have brought Grievous. There would have been no contest then, we could kill them all with no trouble!"

"You're so _violent_." Obi-Wan yawned as he settled into the pilot's seat, lazily priming the ship for their transport to Mandalore after they had come out of hyperspace near the planet. "Control your anger, Asajj. I can still leave you behind. I would rather not, I need support in case something _does_ go wrong, but I won't have things going wrong because of _you_." She bit her lip and looked away from the Sith, her brow furrowing, and Obi-Wan could feel her anger, her rage, and her frustration with herself as she struggled to control it. "If we kill the Jedi here," Kenobi softly explained, "than every undeclared system turns against us, and I will have the full might of the Jedi Order upon me. Even I can't survive that. But if we are peaceful, _reasonable_...I can disarm the Jedi. If they think twice before raising their weapon against me in the future, it will make it easier to _break_ them."

"But if you _kill them_ -"

"I have two goals today, Asajj, pay attention," Kenobi said swiftly, ignoring the direction she seemed to want to take the conversation. "First, make my impression on Amidala. I get her to agree with my terms, my Master and Dooku orchestrate another battle, courtesy of the Republic, and we are left with a diplomatic situation that cannot be solved without violence. I look good, Republic looks bad."

"...but the _Jedi_ -"

"Are my _second_ goal my dear. I-" He stopped, a smirk slowly crossing his face. "Never you mind about the Jedi. You just keep quiet and follow my lead. And when you are alone with them, and you _will_ be, you are going to be a _perfect_ lady, understand?"

She gawked at the Sith, puttering for a moment before she cried, "I am not a lady! I have never _been_ a _lady_!"

Obi-Wan took her hand, swiftly kissed it, smiling slyly as a look of disgust passed over her face. "But you will be today." He shrugged, leaning back in the pilot's seat, hands behind his head. "And after this, it's Bull Rancor hunting on Felucia! Oooh, get _excited_ , Asajj! Bull Rancors!" He put his immaculate soft, leather boots on the control console. "I'm going to let them go on the ship. Maybe they'll smash up all the droids..."

"You sure do hate them..."

"Don't get me wrong," he drawled smoothly, splaying his fingers out before him in what would have been a placating gesture if Ventress didn't look through the viewport to see several passing droids rise into the air and begin spinning head over heals. "Droids have their uses, of course. But as soldiers?" The Sith scoffed. "They are no match for an intelligent soldier. Certainly no match for a Jedi. They will tear through entire battalions of these things with no trouble at all. I suppose that's why we're using them, nobody cares about droids..."

"Are you sure you're Sith, Kenobi?" Ventress drawled, smirking as the yellow eyes narrowed slightly. "You certainly speak highly of the Jedi."

"As should we all, Asajj. The Jedi are peerless warriors. Slaves to fools, yes, but we will correct that in time, and those that do not come to our side will be distroyed. The Sith and the Jedi are far more alike than we like to believe. But the Jedi serve. The Sith _rule_." Kenobi laughed loudly, eyes closed, and Ventress could feel his Force presence reaching out, not to her, but all around, feeling the ship, the droids, the dreadnaught, something beyond that she could neither see nor sense., and she breathed deep, the feel of Darth Lumis heavy and comforting around her. "It's absolute insanity that a Force sensitive being should ever be made to serve. The Force has chosen us. We should be exalted for it, not enslaved because it."

"The Force shall set me free," Ventress said softly, and Kenobi grinned.

"Wonoksh Qyâsik nun. You're learning fast." Eyes closed, the Sith powered on the ship, feeling the dreadnaught leave hyperspace just outside the Mandalore system. "Are you ready?"

Ventress' nose wrinkled, grabbing the armrest as the cruiser lifted and Kenobi took them out of the hanger, the sleek ship cutting smoothly and easily through space. "Are you going to see your _girlfriend_? Because if I have to wait outside one more time while you and her-"

"I heard your complaints, Asajj, and we don't even speak in Basic anymore! We switched to Mando'a to save you the embarrassment. _You're welcome_."

"It doesn't help, Kenobi, _I still hear it_!"

"Stop standing so close to the door, sweetheart."

Ventress growled. "I'm not _that close_."

Obi-Wan ran a hand over his face, failing to repress a loud yawn. It was early, and his busy mind prevented him from getting any rest the night before. "You could always take a walk through the city, dear, Sundari is beautiful."

"It doesn't matter how far away from you I am, _I can feel it in the Force_!"

The gold eyes widened slowly, a sly, devious, perfectly delighted smirk sliding across his face, his one hand pressed on the flight controls and causing the ship to fly in a wide circle. "Oh, _Asajj_! We have a _training bond_!" The woman growled, low and deep and warning, and the Sith Lord just laughed. "We _have_ been spending too much time together, haven't we? It's it great to have me in your mind?"

"No, it really isn't."

"You know...now the galaxy knows I'm alive, Satine and I don't need to keep that secret anymore. I haven't heard her scream my name in a _very_ long time. Maybe I will see her after all..."

"It still needs to be secret!" Ventress shouted, pitching to the side for a moment as Obi-Wan righted the ship, resuming the course for Mandalore. "It would be _very_ bad if people knew that the leader of the Neutral Systems was messing around with _the kriffing Negotiator_!"

"...damn it. Rancor hunting it is."

Ventress crossed her arms, looking petulant and annoyed, but the Sith was paying her no mind. She threw herself back in the chair dramatically, her pale eyes looking to the pilot, but his handsome face was calm, peaceful, serene, and absolutely not noticing her at all. She growled in irritation, reached out to him with the Force, and was met with the iron defenses of his mental walls. With a frown, Asajj slowly droned, "Kenobi..."

"I know you are distressed, Asajj, I can feel it. You don't need to make a _performance_ out of it."

"The Jedi-"

" _I know_!" he snarled viciously, golden eyes lighting up with rage and the Force flaring with anger, but not toward her. A moment later saw him smoothing back his hair and breathing deep, the Dark Side submitting to his mastery. "I know you are concerned about the Jedi, but we are _safe_."

"I'm concerned about _you_ , stupid."

Obi-Wan leaned back, closed his eyes, his hands resting easily on the ship's steering and guiding them toward Mandalore, the planet slowly growing larger before them. "...I confess I am... _nervous_ , perhaps. There are those among the Jedi I once considered friends. Very close friends. I've always held Quinlan Vos and Luminara Unduli close to me. Even after I fell." He breathed deeply. "My Master has trained me well. I rule my passions, they do not rule me. He exists among the Jedi, and I can do so as well. No matter who the Jedi bring, I will get _exactly_ what I want."

"You always do."

"Yes," he purred, yellow eyes running over the large Republic ships that were in orbit around Mandalore. " _Always_."

* * *

"I really don't think you should be here, Master."

"Anakin..."

"I mean it," the Padawan snarled, clenching his mechanical hand. "I think everyone's in shock, everyone's lost, nobody knows what to do, and we're all forgetting that he's _Sith_!"

"...I haven't forgotten."

"Control your anger, Padawan," Luminara said softly, her voice tight, and Anakin growled.

"He called me a slave!"

"You were a slave," Qui-Gon said softly, eyes distant, but Skywalker shook his head, defiant.

"Not anymore! He... _made me one_. Just for a moment, but it was enough!" Anakin snarled, his bright blue eyes darting to the end of the large, grand hall where Padmé Amidala talked quietly with Duchess Satine, the grand leader of Mandalore. "And why wouldn't she listen to us?! We should be with her! At all times!"

"She believes she will have more success without us," Barriss said softly, coming closer to the fuming Anakin. "Maybe she's right. Maybe the Jedi presence will make him less cooperative."

"Or _maybe_ having the people he betrayed nearby will show more of his true nature! Maybe we can watch him have a big, stupid Sith _breakdown_ , and Master Yoda will have to kill him!" Anakin pointed to the diminutive Master sitting cross-legged outside on one of the sunny verandas, his eyes closed in deep meditation. "All our problems would be solved! No more Negotiator, he can be dead for _real_ this time, and we can all start healing!"

Barriss grabbed him when both Masters' eyes glazed over and she pulled him away, out of the large hall and into the grand foyer of Sundari Palace. "Nobody is healing from this, Anakin," she whispered. "His death would solve nothing."

"Yes it would, it would solve everything."

"But Dooku would be free. The war would continue with no hope of peaceful resolution." Anakin's eyes narrowed and he opened his mouth to speak, but the Mirialan put her hand over his mouth. "He may be a powerful asset for the Confederacy, but he isn't a _leader_. Dooku is. If the Negotiator dies, we gain nothing."

"No, we lose a _Sith Lord_! That's the important thing here, Barriss, he's Sith!"

"He isn't _just_ Sith. He's..." She stopped, looking over her shoulder toward the grand hall where their Masters stood, and looked back with concern on her face. "He's your Master's former student. He's my Master's old friend. This isn't a pain that can be healed with death. _No_ pain can be healed with death, it just creates more pain."

"I think killing a Sith Lord would save a lot of lives," Skywalker spat bitterly. "Don't you think? Aren't we supposed to be far-sighted?"

"...we are." Barriss sighed, slipping her hand into Anakin's, and the towering teen softened considerably when he felt the girl's distress, her confusion, her pain. "I admit this is difficult, but saying his death is the only way is just... _wrong_. If we kill him, the peace talks are over."

"He doesn't want peace. I was there, I saw him. I _felt_ him in my mind. Obi-Wan Kenobi isn't peaceful, he's...h-he's-"

"No, you're probably right," she admitted, looking away from the other Padawan. "But we still must try. Ending the war here would save the most lives." She sighed, rubbing her thin arms against the cold. It was early, and the large marble halls did little to retain heat. "Even still...his death gains us nothing." Anakin began to object again, and she held up a hand and carefully said, "We gain the most by his _capture_. If we can capture him, we can learn about the Sith. We can find out where the real threat is, we could give our Masters a chance to _finally_ heal. They can come to peace with his rehabilitation, or come to accept he is lost to us. No matter what, at least we can say we tried."

Anakin closed his eyes, slowly turning over all Barriss had said. It was true that the Jedi Order was in shock, and it was only now that they were starting to come out of it as the reality of the situation set in. Obi-Wan Kenobi's survival and turn to the Dark Side was disturbing the Force in a way Anakin didn't think was possible. Even easy-going Quinlan Vos was tense and agitated, declining the invitation to accompany the Senator with a tense smile and a surge of anger that everyone understood. He claimed that he had a Padawan to find, and while everyone knew it was an excuse, nobody said a word about it. They were Jedi, yes, but it was easy to stay unattached when it was peaceful. Now they were faced with war, with dead Jedi and innocents, with the Sith, with the traitorous Obi-Wan. Remaining serene seemed impossible to Anakin. Only Yoda was truly handling it like a Jedi should.

"...maybe you're right." Anakin grinned almost viciously. "I _would_ like to capture him. We'll see who's the slave then!"

Barriss sighed. "Anakin..."

"How long will it take to break a Sith Lord? They thrive on pain, right?"

"You can't break a Sith, they've already been broken," Both Padawans turned to look at Luminara, who had come to check on the absent learners, and in the presence of the wise Master, Anakin hung his head. He knew he was not behaving in the Jedi way, but thoughts of revenge felt... _good_. "The Sith thrive on hatred and pain. Torturing him will only send him further down the dark path. Don't forget why we're here, Padawans."

Barriss nodded. "For peace."

"For peace," the Master repeated in a whisper. "And, to get the measure of our enemy. Master Yoda believes that understanding what he has become will help us in the future."

"He's going to be in a containment room, Master," Anakin snarled, his mechanical hand clenching tightly. "Why don't we just _lock_ the door when they're done. Without the Force, he can't _do_ anything." But Luminara shook her head.

"Doing the wrong thing for the right reasons does not make it right, Anakin. That's how many Jedi have fallen prey to the Dark Side. Master Yoda is of the belief that observing Obi-Wan here while he is working will make him easier to find and capture later."

"Master Yoda wants to capture him?"

The Master nodded. "We all do. So far, at least, so far as we know, Obi-Wan hasn't committed any crime."

Anakin's eyes narrowed and he felt rage build up inside him again. "But he _has_."

"Can you prove that?"

"W-well..." Luminara smiled sadly as Skywalker fumbled for examples he just didn't have.

"He will know that as well. It's why he's here, he knows he is safe. For now. Nobody here wants him free. All of us agree that Obi-Wan must be apprehended, if not for his own good, for the good of the galaxy. But not now. Not when it will hurt us."

"...yes, Master." Anakin could say nothing else. He didn't have a good argument. Maybe Yoda was right. The Grandmaster was far-sighted, and it was very possible that he saw something the other Jedi simply could not. After all, his own Master had passed his adherence to the Living Force on to his student, and while it gave Anakin keen insight, living in the moment didn't lend itself to advanced planning.

However, Anakin thought, _everyone_ but the sage Master Yoda was living in the moment right now, and none of them were handling it well. When they left, Quinlan was in an adamant state of denial. Luminara was simply...sad, accepting of what had happened, but open and sympathetic to the plight and pain of her fallen friend. Poor, suffering Qui-Gon was filled with self-loathing that seeped into the very heart of him, leaving him shattered and broken far worse than Anakin had ever seen. And _that_ made Anakin angry.

It had started small. Sadness had already draped itself around young Skywalker after his mother had died just a few short days before. He was angry then too, but his brother Owen's strength had helped him endure, regain control, and the rage faded into sadness. And then Obi-Wan happened. The Sith Lord knew exactly how to make the Jedi Padawan lose control, and Anakin did, rage engulfing him and refusing to let him go. And while he wanted the Sith Lord killed _violently_ , he also understood that his anger was making him stupid.

Barriss was fine. She hadn't known Obi-Wan, and she had the benefit of the wise and controlled Luminara guiding her on her path to Knighthood. Next to Master Yoda, the younger teen was perhaps the most level-headed of the group.

The all turned when Qui-Gon rushed into the room and stuck himself to the wall, his hands seeming to grip the cold marble. "...Yoda senses him," the old Master mumbled, and Anakin could see even Luminara tense. "I can't do this."

"You can, and you will." The Mirialan took his hand. "You can't turn him in a day, Qui-Gon. It took years for him to fall, and he's had lots of time for the Dark Side to twist him."

"That's what I'm afraid of, I don't want to see that."

"You already have, Master," Anakin said softly. "It can't possibly be worse than last time. He's supposed to be...peaceful, right?"

Luminara carefully took the Master's hand from the wall and squeezed gently. "We'll do it together. Come on." He closed his dark eyes and breathed deeply, finally nodding and entering the large hall with Luminara in hand, their Padawans trailing behind them. They stopped just behind Yoda when the tiny Master held his stick out, tapping Qui-Gon on the stomach with it.

"Watch carefully, you must," he quietly rasped, eyes looking at the two women standing unaware by the throne. The other Jedi nodded, but said nothing. There was nothing left to say.

A few minutes later, and Obi-Wan Kenobi entered the room, though not from the main entrance they were expecting. The man came through a door at the side of the throne, a black cloak draped over his shoulders, hood drawn, and a smaller, thinner person in similar dark grey garb trailing just behind him. Qui-Gon frowned, observing the Sith carefully. The Jedi delegation had been directed through the main entrance of Sundari Palace. The Kenobi used the side door, an entrance that Qui-Gon knew led to the less formal, private sections of the palace, bespoke of a familiarity that made the Jedi uneasy. He believed Mandalore to be truly neutral, but Satine may not be. He'd have to investigate while Padmé conducted her business with the Negotiator.

Obi-Wan's strides were slow and easy, ambling almost carelessly as he pulled back his hood and mounted the steps to the throne, his companion waiting for him on the first step, and the Jedi looked on carefully, hardly noticing they were holding her breath, and Qui-Gon could hear Luminara whimper softly beside him. Anakin felt his chest tighten in the presence of the Dark Side, and he frowned, blue eyes narrowing dangerously as he looked between the Negotiator and his cowled friend. He suspected that the man would have brought guards, but he thought they'd be droids, given his connection to the Separatists. Instead, he brought a single person, and not a very big one, but the Force didn't shy away from the small of stature. If there was yet _another_ Sith in the picture, Anakin was going to tear his hair out.

And yet, something was...off. Anakin shook his head. He couldn't place it. Not yet.

Obi-Wan kneeled before the two women when he reached the base of the throne, delicately taking the Duchess' hand in his and pressing his lips to her fingertips. "Ni dinu ner gaan naakyc, Mand'alor Satine."

"Haat, Ijaa, Haa'it, cyar'ika."

Luminara leaned in towards Qui-Gon. "What are they saying?"

The Master shook his head. "I don't speak much Mando'a. Certainly not enough to understand that."

Obi-Wan smiled, rising to his feet and bowing deeply to a blushing Padmé. "Senator Amidala. It has been a very long time. Last time I saw you, you were still a queen."

Padmé's hands were shaking. She knew it was him, she had watched his proposal to the Republic nearly a hundred times, but seeing him again was another matter entirely. She thought to sound regal, strong, commanding, but instead could only manage a weak, "I thought you were dead."

"I know. Some... _changes_ needed to take place." He smiled, a charming thing, and Padmé flushed further.

"Y-your eyes..."

"We're not here to talk about me, Senator, or the past, we're here to discuss the future! Of course," Kenobi drawled smoothly, drawing closer to the Senator and smirking as he felt through the Force the young woman _burning_ , "I would be happy to discuss it another time in a more informal setting. I'm not _always_ on business for the Confederacy."

Satine arched an eyebrow. "Vaabir gar kar'taylir kaysh?"

"Vi cuyir ruug'la tomade." The Duchess nodded, and Anakin had enough, with a snarl, he broke away from the Masters and made a mad dash for the stairs, reaching for the light saber at his belt. His swift approach to the throne was blocked by the hooded figure, reaching under the thick cloak for something when Anakin's lightsaber flew from his hands and was caught easily by Master Yoda. Obi-Wan grinned broadly when Luminara and Qui-Gon grabbed the furious young man.

"Skywalker! So nice to see you! How's the arm?"

The light tone, the smooth voice, the _insufferable_ accent was too much for Skywalker to take. He was in control before, but now, all the rage had come bursting to the surface and consumed him. Anger for his arm, his Master, his mother, his forced enslavement, the Sith's close proximity to Padmé, _everything_ came to the surface, and Anakin saw red.

"Calm yourself, Anakin," Qui-Gon hissed, and the Padawan, growled, channeling his will through the Force to hurt the Sith, and the golden eyes widened in what looked like momentary shock before they melted into ease and amusement, and Skywalker felt the transparisteel walls that surrounded the smirking Kenobi's mind. Obi-Wan cautiously inclined his head as Yoda drew near, casually hobbling over with his stick to support him.

"Master Yoda..."

"Obi-Wan." That easy smile faltered for just a moment, twitching with a vicious sneer that he quickly repressed, nearly too fast to see. Yoda simply regarded him curiously.

Kenobi's yellow eyes looked over the Jedi carefully and found them shockingly unguarded. Qui-Gon's eyes were averted, pain and desperation rolling off him in waves as he held the fuming Skywalker back, the Force presence that Obi-Wan _knew_ was comforting filling his Padawan in an attempt to sooth him. Skywalker's furious eyes, by contrast, never left the Sith Lord's face, the young man far, _far_ more angry than he had any right to be. He began to reach out to identify the source of the teen's anger, but a sharp rap on the ground by Yoda's stick snapped Kenobi's attention back to the tiny Jedi Master, his ears back and his eyes narrowed in...warning. Obi-Wan frowned. He was perfectly shielded, but any obvious use of the Force seemed unwise under Yoda's watchful gaze.

What he didn't expect, however, was Luminara, his old friend, standing at Skywalker's side, her small hand on the Padawan's chest, her bright blue eyes wide and relieved and hurt, all at once. He bit his lip, shook his head and allowed his easy, careless expression to settle back on his face. There would be time for the Jedi after he finished with Padmé. For now...

Kenobi cleared his throat as he walked down the stairs, laying his hand on his robed companion's shoulder. "You're in the presence of royalty, dear. Have some respect." With an audible growl, the hands came from beneath the heavy gray cloak and drew back the hood, revealing the shorn head and light gray skin of a severe featured woman, her pale eyes narrowed dangerously at the Jedi. "My companion, Ventress," Kenobi purred, watching carefully as Yoda's wide eyes darted between the two.

"You brought _another_ Sith?!" Anakin howled, his anger beginning anew, only to stop when Yoda slammed the point of his stick into his foot.

"I'm not Sith," Asajj rasped, crossing her arms and clearly not happy to be there.

"See? No trouble!" Kenobi chirped, turning back to Padmé and offering her his hand, which she gladly took. "Right to business, then. Duchess, care to lead the way to our meeting place?"

"Gladly." She held out her hand, and Kenobi gently took it, allowing the woman to rest her hand in the crook of his arm, and with the two women in hand, chatting softly and amiably as they started a relaxed walk out of the side room, two guards and the Sith's sneering companion following them as they went.

The Jedi stood fix to their spot, Yoda beginning a slow, hobbled walk after them. Clearly, he was in no rush. He lightly tapped Barriss on the leg, quietly commanded her to follow them closely, and with a nod, she set a quick pace to fall in line behind the diplomats.

"Anakin, you _shame_ me," Qui-Gon growled softly, but Anakin was not backing down.

"Master, he's _Sith_!"

"We have been over this!"

"Well _maybe_ some people just don't deserve to live! If he's a Sith Lord, at some point, he's done something that makes him unworthy of living!"

"We don't get to decide that," Luminara whispered, her voice shaking terribly. "I thought...I saw him in the message to the Senate, so I thought I could handle this, but seeing him in person..." She brought her hand up to her forehead, her breathing uneven. She felt nauseous. "You were right. It's different in person. It's... _real_. You can't feel a Force presence from a hologram."

"...I'm sorry, Luminara," Qui-Gon said softly, and the Mirialan slowly hugged him, easily getting lost in the folds of his robes, and Anakin frowned, clenching his jaw as he thought about what Luminara had said. Something felt off before, and it felt off now.

Released, Anakin strode quickly after Padmé, only to be stopped when he tripped and went pitching forward, only just barely catching himself before his face struck the floor. He looked back to see what he tripped on and saw Yoda, chucking softly and dragging his stick behind him. The Grandmaster had _tripped_ him. Anakin frowned. "You're worse than the younglings, Master."

"If slower you were going, Skywalker, than seen my stick, you would have seen." He held Anakin's lightsaber out to him, and the Padawan took it, only to be grabbed by the wrist by the Master and pulled to the ground, grimacing as his knees slammed into the hard stone. With a gasp, Anakin shivered as the Force surged through him, awakening his senses and clearing his vision as the anger quickly faded from him, replaced by the calm serenity of Master Yoda.

"Anger, there is in you," Yoda rasped, his three-fingered hand tightening around the Padawan's wrist. "Fear, there is. New pain." Yoda frowned, his ears rising and falling as he seemed to listen to the Force, and Anakin couldn't help but watch the Master with rapt attention.

"...I don't know what to do, Master."

"Help you, I will." Yoda patted his hand and let go of the teenager. "The Dark Side, you call, Skywalker. Danger, there is in that path. Fail your Master, you must not. Too much pain, he has already."

Anakin looked back to his Master and the Mirialan, the two quietly comforting each other and far more hurt than they were letting on. "...can we help them?" he asked quietly, and Yoda's forehead wrinkled, his eyes closing.

"Time. Patience, they need. Strong, you will have to be, Skywalker. Aware and in tune with the Force, you must stay, or to the Sith, you will belong."

Anakin bristled. "I don't _belong_ -"

"But you _do_ ," Yoda said, pushing the tip of his stick against Anakin's chest. "Through the Dark Side, Obi-Wan controls you. On Geonosis." The Master nodded sagely. "Here. Fear the Dark Side, I do not. A powerful ally is mine, in the Force. Touch me, the Dark Side cannot. Cautious, the Sith Obi-Wan is. Knows his weakness is my strength, he does."

Anakin bit his lip, his blue eyes drifting away from Yoda and contemplating the Force, everything that had happened here. Something felt... _off_. _Again_. He couldn't see it before for all his rage, bit now, clarity set in. He was embarrassed for not sensing it before. "I felt the Dark Side when they came in. But it was... _different_." A small, secretive smile came to Yoda's thin lips. "It wasn't like Geonosis, it was... _angry_. I felt anger and fear and power when Obi-Wan entered, but it was...different." He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "It wasn't strong enough to him. I was sensing his friend."

Yoda nodded. "Felt this, I did."

"...Master, we _can't_ sense Obi-Wan." Yoda shuffled along, his stick lightly tapping the ground as he walked, and Anakin rose and followed slowly beside him. "What are we going to do? If he's concealing himself in the Force-"

"A plan, I have, Skywalker," Yoda whispered. "Trust in the Force, we must. Patience, we will have. Reveal himself, the Sith will."


	22. Negotiations

The Mandalorians had a proud history of hunting, imprisoning and executing Jedi, so the prisons and holding cells of Sundari Palace were uniquely equipt for containing Force sensitives. They were led to a lower level of the palace, the Jedi keeping a fair distance from the Senator and the Sith as they watched with a careful eye, Anakin bringing up the rear with Master Yoda clinging tightly to his back, the two speaking in hushed tones that made Qui-Gon equal parts nervous and curious. Soldiers lined the long hallways, standing at attention beside closed doors that led to interrogation rooms. They stopped outside of one, and the guard opened the door, a blue energy field over the entrance that the Senator easily passed through when the Duchess ushered her inside. But Kenobi did not enter so easily.

Breathing deep, his gold eyes ran over the field, looking inside to see Senator Amidala making herself comfortable in the room that had been well-furnished for the meeting, the Force blocking containment field turned on and making his connection feel hazy just from standing near. He took a few cautious steps back. "...remember what we talked about, Ventress," he said to the woman by his side. "You play nice with the Jedi. Don't start anything. We can't afford for this to fall through."

"If they attack me, Kenobi, than what!" Asajj asked swiftly, much louder than intended, and Obi-Wan could feel her entire being spiked with fear. She was made concerned by Skywalker's display earlier.

"It was a Jedi that saved you, Ventress. Master Yoda will protect you. Right?" Yellow eyes met golden brown, and Yoda nodded. "See? Nothing to worry about." He patted her shoulder and stepped up to the energy over the door. With a deep breath, he closed his eyes and stepped inside, the door sealing behind him.

It was... _oppressive_. For a moment, he felt he couldn't breathe, and he had to reach out with a hand to grasp the wall for balance. He reflexively looked deep within for the Force, but found only a void, dark and empty and silent, and he groaned aloud from the pain of it. It was like losing a vital part of himself, a part he needed, like his lungs or his heart, and he instantly regretted agreeing to undergo what amounted to torture for a Force sensitive. A delicate hand on his cheek brought him out of himself, his focus shifting outwards at the worried, brown eyes before him instead of the empty, gaping pit within him, and the pain dulled to a slowly pulsing throb. That, he could deal with. After all, his Master had inflicted far worse upon him.

"Are you alright?" Padmé asked softly, her thumb running over his high cheekbone, her other hand resting on his chest, and a slow smile spread over his lips. Even without the Force, she was _shockingly_ easy to read. He had a small window of opportunity earlier to quietly enter her mind and examine what was there, and he was pleased to find the young Senator, now a woman, with a woman's needs and a taste for Jedi that _he_ had inspired. It was perfect. He was right to trust his instincts.

"Fine, yes," Obi-Wan said softly, a gentle smile on his face. "It takes some getting used to."

"Do you need-"

"No, no." He stood upright, pushing away from the wall and quickly kissed her palm, delighting in her soft gasp and the blush that stained her features. "I thank you for your concern, though." The Sith took stock of the room. There didn't appear to be any way to disrupt the containment field, and even if there was, a steady red light on a security camera in one corner indicated that they were being watched. Kenobi frowned. An audio feed was certain to be hooked up as well, but he could use that to his advantage if he was careful.

"Shall we begin?" he drawled, his voice as smooth as he could make it, and he pulled out a chair for her, waiting for her to be seated before he walked around the table to sit opposite her, facing the security camera. He could control how he looked. He couldn't control the reactions of the Senator. What was being presented to the people watching was very important. He pressed his fingers together, elbows on the table and leaning forward. "Let's talk about Geonosis." He smirked, feeling the woman bristle. Kenobi knew she was there. The goal had been to catch her with her guard down, and he was successful.

" _Your_ people tried to execute me!" she cried, palms flat on the table, and Kenobi leaned back, hands splayed before him and face apologetic.

"Padmé, please, I understand you're angry. We are _talking_ about it, you don't need to get angry. We are trying to find peace, Senator. That won't happen if you are throwing blame around." She crossed her arms, her face angry and her big brown eyes challenging him to defend the Separatist actions on Geonosis. "I don't know the details of what happened. All I know is a Jedi Master was caught snooping around a droid foundry and trying _very_ hard to blow it up."

Padmé bit her lip, looking away from the sincere face of the Negotiator, and Kenobi laid his hands on the table, his fingers lightly drumming on the hard wood. She was...uncertain. "I didn't hear about that."

"Why should you," he shrugged. "The Jedi keep to themselves, if they can." The brown eyes darted to him, narrowed in anger, and he quickly threw up his hands again. "I'm not _blaming_ them, Padmé! I understand! I have always thought that the Jedi should be separate from the Republic, it's one of the reasons I left them!"

"How are we supposed to maintain peace without the Jedi!" she cried, slamming her hands on the table, and the Sith smiled, a soft, gentle thing.

"Padmé..." He reached out and took her hand in his, one long finger on her wrist and feeling her racing pulse seem to hitch as she sucked in a sharp breath. Even without the Force, his presence was calming. "We don't maintain peace without the Jedi. We _need_ the Jedi, but not as servants of the Republic, as servants of _peace_. I know you don't understand the Force, but binding the Jedi to the will of a corrupt system is like trying to exert the Senate's will on the Force. They have no right to it, and it goes against the Jedi Code."

"The Senate is _not_ corrupt!"

He arched one thin eyebrow, his yellow eyes, vibrant and glowing before, but without the presence of the Force, they appeared pale and dull, looking at the girl like she was crazy. "Come now, let's be honest. You aren't a naive young girl anymore, you're a woman now." He squeezed her hand, a charming smile on his face, and her eyes widened, her face flushing deeply, and he could feel her pulse quicken. "If the Senate weren't absolutely mired in corruption and greed, this mess wouldn't have happened."

"And you think the _Confederacy_ is better?"

Kenobi scoffed. "Not in the least. They're just as bad. The Trade Federation, the Techno Union, the Commerce Guild, the Corporate Alliance..." The Sith shook his head in disgust. "They are as greedy as the worst in the Senate. But not all broke away from the Republic to pursue their own ambitions. The Republic is _broken_ , Padmé."

"We can make it better if we just _work_ together!"

"Mm, but you admit there are problems."

The man opposite her smiled warmly, and Amidala had to look away. Until the other day, she had thought the man dead and gone, and on Geonosis, she and Anakin had...well, she didn't know what to think of that right now. They were friends, yes, had become _good_ friends in their close time together, and on Geonosis, they thought they were going to die. There was an attraction there, yes, and in the face of death, it seemed pointless to deny it. Anakin was still a boy, but _Obi-Wan_...

He was her first Jedi protector, the first man she felt real, adult attraction for, the first one that inspired vivid dreams that woke her in the night panting and aroused, and that smooth charm, that easy smile hadn't changed at all. She was told he was not a Jedi anymore, and she believed it, his cautious, unattached blue eyes inexplicably replaced with blazing, passionate gold that seemed to burn right through her and awoke all the things that she had put away after he had died. After she _thought_ he died.

"Can you control me?" she muttered, barely audible, and the Sith closed his eyes.

"Not now, no. Your containment field has cut my connection to the Force, I have no power over anyone." He smiled softly, looking away from her, his thumb running over the back of her hand. "I can't even feel the Force, I can't imagine living like this the way you do."

"...does it hurt?" She laid her other hand on top of his and squeezed. "When you came in..."

Kenobi leaned back, carefully removing his hand from the Senator's, watching carefully as her face filled with worry and longing as they lost physical contact. "The Force," he explained softly, "is like looking into eternity. It's a constant companion, a comforting presence that promises peace and knowledge and life everlasting. But without it..." Obi-Wan shivered, and he didn't need to fake the gesture, the dull pain in his mind spiking as he looked inward and quickly had to turn away. "Without it...there is nothing. I look inside myself and there is a void that should be filled with power and meaning and when I reach for the Force there is only _pain_." He hissed, his hand shooting to his head as pain lanced through him, his mind seeking contact with the Force and the nothingness lashing out against him.

He could hear scuffling and shouting briefly outside the door, and recognized Ventress' distinctive snarl. She was fearful, not aggressive, but he knew how quickly the Dark Side would prey on such emotions. With a deep breath, Kenobi slowly regained control, pushing the pain aside, and it vanished nearly completely as Padmé's small hands cupped his cheeks, her big brown eyes wide and concerned. "I'm so sorry..." the Senator said softly, her hands shaking against the handsome former Jedi's face. "I should have listened to the Jedi, this is _torture_."

Obi-Wan chuckled softly, laying his hand over hers. "We're just getting off-topic. I'm fine now." Their eyes locked, and the Sith smiled. "I promise. Please, have a seat, we'll get back to business." The Senator slowly sat, but she was clearly still concerned, and Kenobi smiled reassuringly. Her sympathy would aid him. Perhaps the decision to endure this was worth it after all. "Even if I could feel the Force," Obi-Wan drawled softly, "I wouldn't control you, Padmé."

She grinned brightly, her heart fluttering in her chest and she nodded, hands on the table and leaning toward the Negotiator. "What is it the Separatists want?"

"A great deal. Not all of it reasonable, but that is why we are here, yes?"

"Yes."

Kenobi nodded. "They want freedom from the Republic, obviously. Your system is corrupt and it has stopped serving the people. Instead of progress, you stagnate. Nothing gets done until it is too late. The Separatists want real change."

"We can't just _let_ all these systems go! The Republic needs them if it's going to be successful! What are we going to do without the Trade Federation and the Banking Clan?"

Obi-Wan scoffed. "You could develop your own. Nobody is keeping you from that."

"Banking and Intergalactic Trade can't just be... _manufactured_!"

"Not with that attitude." The brown eyes narrowed, and the Sith held his hands up. "Alright, I will concede this point to you, for the time being. Jumping into the thick of it may not be the best idea to find common ground. I want to return to Geonosis. What were you doing there?"

"What were _you_ doing there?!" The response was knee-jerk and childish, she knew, but the man seemed to take it in stride, and she couldn't help herself. Geonosis was... _awful_ , and every time she closed her eyes, she saw the arena.

Obi-Wan sighed, rubbing his temple. "The Separatist Council was meeting on Geonosis. I'm not a part of the Council, of course, but my work has earned me a place in the room, if I wish it. That's when we found the Jedi saboteur."

Padmé crossed her arms, a physical gesture that was never a good sign for negotiation, and Obi-Wan lightly brushed his leg against the Senator's under the table, and the woman gasped, her hands flying into her lap and sitting up straight. _Much_ better. "I told you, I don't know anything about the Jedi. I just knew that he was captured, that's why Qui-Gon and Anakin and I went to save him."

"You believed it was without cause?" Padmé nodded. "He _was_ trying to blow up the droid foundries, and the Separatist Council was in the building. They would have all died if the Jedi was successful." Kenobi shrugged when the Senator paled. "Maybe he had a good reason to be there, I don't know. But he was attempting a political mass murder. Even the Republic executes such criminals."

"He was hunting an _assassin_ ," she fumed. "An assassin that tried to kill me _twice_. I heard he tracked him to Kamino."

"Kamino is not Geonosis, Senator."

"And _then_ tracked him to Geonosis! The Separatists wanted me dead!"

"Really." Kenobi brought his hand to his cheek. "I've been around the Separatists for a long time, Padmé. None of them ordered your death. None of them even know who you are. Or, they _didn't_ know who you were, until you were caught firing at Geonosians..."

"W-well-"

"You have political enemies in the Senate. How do you know it wasn't one of them that ordered your death?"

"I-I don't, but-"

"So your Jedi ran to Geonosis on the trail of an assassin that may or may not have been sent to kill you by the Separatists, and instead of finding this bounty hunter, he killed hundreds of Geonosians and attempted to kill the entire Separatist Council by blowing up the building. And _you_ came personally to rescue this man? Do you see why your execution was ordered?"

"Then...w-we were wrong to be on Geonosis." Padmé shook her head, sighing heavily. "I'm...sorry, Obi-Wan. We shouldn't have-"

"Don't apologize, please." Kenobi smiled reassuringly, took her hand and gently kissed it, his pale golden eyes watching with interest as regret and sorrow and desire and want rushed across her face in equal measure. "The start of all this was a misunderstanding. I'm confident we can resolve it, especially since you are so willing to do so. I imagine meeting with me was no easy thing to arrange."

"Easier than you think, I _wanted_ this," she purred, leaning in further, unaware of how breathy and heedless she sounded, and the Sith Lord chuckled, his sharp ears picking up on shouts of rage on the other side of the door, this time from Anakin Skywalker.

"Then we are of a like mind. Which leads us to the other part of this." He let go of her hand, smirking when he saw her bite her lip, upset at its loss. "The Jedi."

"The Jedi..." she slowly repeated, watching those pallid yellow eyes and she couldn't think straight. He had no powers in this room, what _was_ Obi-Wan doing to her?

"The Jedi interfered in a matter they had no business being a part of, and they didn't just mount a rescue, they attacked with an _army_. This was an open act of war. I don't pretend to know what the Senate called for, but it ultimately doesn't matter. The Jedi have been serving as attack dogs for the Republic since that nasty business on Antar 4."

Padmé bit her lip and looked away, mulling over the information. Obi-Wan wasn't _wrong_ , but the Republic wasn't the only one making poor choices in this conflict. "You're forgetting all the things the Separatists have done. They _started_ this whole thing with the battle on Naboo."

Kenobi nodded. "I agree. Factions within the Confederacy must be held responsible for the things they have done, just as the Republic must answer for their crimes. That _is_ fair, is it not?"

"Y-yes, of course."

"When we have peace, I can assure you that I will stop at nothing to weed out the greed and corruption that exists within the Separatists, starting with the Trade Federation and the Banking Clan. And you," he drawled softly, taking both her hands in his and leaning in, "must start with the Jedi. Or _whoever_ it is that is controlling them."

"Obi-Wan, the Jedi are _peacekeepers_ , they-"

Kenobi laughed, short and harsh, his hands tightening around the woman's. "That may have been true once, but they lead an army now. I hear the mighty Jedi Masters are _generals_ these days. That is an affront to the very Code they follow."

"The Republic hasn't had an army in a very long time, we don't have anyone to lead them! And the Jedi are _peerless_ warriors."

"If there was nobody to lead an army that was created overnight, than perhaps you shouldn't have it to begin with." Kenobi's smile faded into a knowing smirk, his eyes seeming to dance with light golden flames, and Padmé stared at him transfixed, unable to look away. "But it _wasn't_ created overnight, was it? This army was a long time in the making. An army of clones... _millions_ of them, and all ready to deploy against the Republic's enemies. Tell me, Padmé, who exactly made this army? It must have been commissioned a _long_ time ago, long before the Trade Federation invaded Naboo, if these clones are being grown at a standard rate."

"I don't know much about the clones," she started, her voice thin and her hands shaking. She had a feeling she knew where this was going, and as much as she wished it wasn't so, the Negotiator, _Obi-Wan_ , had a point. "The Jedi brought the matter to attention, they-"

" _The Jedi_." The Sith scoffed. "It looks to me like the Jedi have raised a secret army, since your recent Military Creation Bill has no mention of clones and goes into great detail about drafting people into service. It seems to me like the Republic had no idea their Grand Army could consist of millions of the same man."

Padmé was scrambling for words, but she could not find any. She desperately wrenched her hands away from Kenobi's grasp and stood, pacing restlessly. "Why would the Jedi have need of an army?!" she finally stuttered, and Obi-Wan shook his head.

"I don't know. It isn't like them. They may have been ordered by the Senate to serve as the mediators between the cloners and the Republic." He leaned forward, watching her pace madly. "I cannot speculate as to why, but I can say this. The Jedi _don't_ belong within the Republic. They are peacekeepers, as you said, they have no part in this."

"They stand for freedom and democracy, Obi-Wan, they-"

"If that were true, they would support the systems that want freedom from the Republic when their people _vote_ to break away. As they have. _Not_ the system that stubborn refuses to let them go, or sends their Jedi peacekeepers to bring a Separatist world forcefully back into the Republic." Padmé dropped into her chair, slumping for a moment before she sat straight up, hands folded before her.

"I don't have power over the Jedi."

"No, but the _Republic_ does." He tapped the table with a long finger. "Here's what I propose. As a part of our peace, we... _dismiss_ the Jedi from the service of the Republic and allow them to act as they were meant to. As _peacekeepers_. Allow them to manage any stray conflict between the Confederacy and the Republic. They will go when _either_ side calls on them for help, not be bound to the whims of corrupt politicians. Allow the Jedi to follow the will of the Force, as they were always meant to do." Kenobi smirked as the woman nodded thoughtfully. He had her.

"I can't speak for the Jedi, but...that seems like something they wouldn't be opposed to."

"I thought so as well." He took her hands in his own. "I don't see the Confederacy rejoining the Republic, Padmé. But with the Jedi to manage peace, I believe we can allow the two systems to thrive alongside each other."

"I...believe that can work." She smiled softly, watching the man smile gently and she felt herself _burn_.

"Here's my proposal. The Confederacy deposes the leaders of the Trade Federation and sends them to Coruscant for justice. Nute Gunray escaped judgement once, but his crimes on Naboo have not been paid for, and it's time for that to happen. The Trade Federation, the Corporate Alliance, the Banking Clan...any of the major institutions that are essential for trade and commerce will be released from their pledge to the Confederacy so they may do business in both sectors as...independent contractors, if you will. They are only with us because they believe we will win the war, but if they are allowed to trade freely, they would happily be ll over the galaxy."

She arched an eyebrow. The proposal was more than generous and far more reasonable than she expected. But the fairness of the trade lay in what he wanted in return. "And...what does the Confederacy want?"

"A great deal, Padmé. But what is _reasonable_ is this. Recognition of the Confederacy as a separate governing body, and the allowance of other systems to easily leave, if they wish. If one system works better than another, that _should_ be the dominant government, don't you think?" She opened her mouth to speak, but the Sith put a long, gentle finger on her lips and she froze, breathless and unable to move. "In a few years time, we will see if one truly works better than the other. Perhaps a competing system of government will spur both to working more effectively, more efficiently. Just like we always wanted, Padmé..."

"Y-yes..."

His long finger slowly traced her lips, smirking in delight as the woman gasped, a barely audible moan escaping her throat, and Kenobi discretely eyed the camera. The angle prevented it from picking up exactly what he was doing. "Are we agreed, then?"

"I-I..." She swallowed hard, wetting her dry throat when the finger moved from her lips to gently hook under her chin. "I-I believe I can get the Senate to agree to this."

"I think I can get the Confederacy to accept it as well." He fished a datapad from the folds of his robe and slid it across to her. "I took the liberties of writing up the proposal last night." She looked at him skeptically, and Kenobi smiled shyly, looking away from her, and the faint blush on his cheeks made her heart skip. _Again_. "I...assumed you were the same girl...the same _woman_ I knew before. I thought this would be in line with what you wanted. After all, our desires have always been similar."

"H-have they?"

He nodded, pale golden eyes meeting hers. "Yes, I think they have."

She took the datapad from the table and turned away, hoping the angle would hide how furiously she was blushing. Everything they discussed was there. The recognition of the Confederacy, making the Jedi, the Bankers, the Trade Federation neutral entities, turning over Nute Gunray for justice. It wasn't an official document, of course, but it was a record of what they had discussed so the information could be shared with their respective governments.

"Can you send a copy to my datapad?" she asked softly, scribbling her name next to Obi-Wan's elegant signature.

The Sith laid his hand over hers when she went to hand the datapad back, her blue eyes drifting to his handsome face and holding his gaze. "Anything for you, Senator..."


	23. Observations

The door had sealed behind the Negotiator, and Anakin immediately began pacing restlessly. Qui-Gon and Luminara stood watching the monitor that displayed what was happening in the room, talking quietly to each other as they listened to Obi-Wan and Padmé talk, but Anakin couldn't stomach it. That Sith's words were poisoned, and if he listened to him, Anakin knew he would regret it deeply. Yoda had warned him about the Dark Side, said it would make him a slave again, and Skywalker believed him. Yoda was wise beyond measure. So wise that the Master didn't even need to listen to the conversation. Yoda sat cross-legged in a chair next to an uncomfortable looking Mandalorian guard, the tiny Master deep in meditation, and Anakin could feel his Force presence reach out and surround _everything_. He wondered if the containment field could stop even the strength of Yoda.

Skywalker growled and looked at the screen, eyes narrowing before he turned away. They were just _sitting_ , though he suspected that the entire meeting would be exactly that. He walked down the long hall, passing by Satine and Barriss, the little Padawan quietly asking the Duchess about maintaining peace with a breathless awe that the young teen could not contain. _Boring_. He turned again, walking back toward the room where the negotiations were taking place, frowning when he saw it wasn't over yet, and with a growl, he stalked away again.

Anakin was stopped when a raspy, irritated voice snarled, "Oh, _stop it_ , you're disturbing the Force with your _stalking_."

He reeled on the voice, the pale eyes of the speaker narrowed, her body relaxed against the wall next to the containment room's door, thin arms crossed over her chest, and Anakin stood as tall as he could, looking down on the woman. "I'll do as I like, _Sith_."

Ventress rolled her eyes. "I told you, I'm not Sith."

Anakin scoffed. " _Yeah right_. I feel the Dark Side in you. It's _raging_."

"Like it is in you?" The woman was smirking, completely amused, and Anakin couldn't help but stutter in rage.

" _In me?!_ I'm not _Sith_!"

"Neither am I." Ventress yawned. "And I didn't say you were. I said the Dark Side was in you."

Anakin's jaw clenched tightly, his mechanical hand balling into a fist, and before he could move, Yoda chuckled from his chair. "In all of us, the Dark Side is," the Master said lightly, not moving from his spot and face relaxed, eyes closed. "No power over the Jedi, it has."

"Oh?" Ventress pointed at the fuming Anakin. "It has power over him."

"Learning, young Skywalker is."

Ventress frowned and looked away from the Jedi. "Yeah, _whatever_."

"You are a _Sith_ ," Anakin snarled, drawing closer to the bald woman, and Ventress eyed him carefully.

"You are an idiot. One of those statements was true. Guess which one it is." Her eyes narrowed and she leaned in toward Skywalker. "I'll give you a hint. I'm _not Sith_."

"You're hanging out with a _Sith Lord_."

"You're in the presence of a Jedi Master, but that doesn't make you any closer to being a Master yourself." She shifted, the dark gray cloak moving over her shoulders and she crossed her arms tighter. "Kenobi is a Sith Lord, but he's made it clear I will never be."

"...why?" Anakin felt his anger melting away. The woman was absolutely brimming with the Dark Side, but...it wasn't flaring, it wasn't turbulent or angry like on Geonosis. He could feel she was telling the truth, and he was...interested.

She shrugged. "A true Sith knows no fear." Anakin waited for her to continue, but Ventress never did. She just turned her head from him and looked at the screen, carefully observing that nothing happened to her Sith Master. He frowned. He didn't like being ignored, even if it was by a Sith, or a Dark Sider, or...whatever it was that Ventress considered herself.

He was about to resume his vicious pacing when Yoda's large eyes flew open and he focused on Ventress, the three-fingered green hand tightening around the back of his chair as if he expected something to happen, and a moment later, it did. Ventress had reached out through the Force and thrown the two Mandalorian guards against the far wall and rushed toward the door to the room the Sith and the Senator sat. Luminara and Qui-Gon had rushed to her, hands on their lightsabers, but Yoda had the situation under control. His small hand was extended, the woman clutched lightly in the Force he commanded, light enough to allow her movement, but tight enough to stop her from moving toward the conference room.

"Disturb them, you must not," Yoda rasped softly, and those pale eyes narrowed dangerously, her long, thin gray arm pointing toward the monitor on the wall.

"Look at him! He's _suffering_! This was a mistake, you are torturing him!"

"He's _Sith,"_ Anakin drawled, "don't they get tortured all the time as a part of their training?" He smirked in amusement as the display showed Obi-Wan, hand to his head and in obvious pain, Padmé hovering over him and clearly worried, and Anakin felt himself _burn,_ the anger awakening in him again. And then, it was over, the Sith returning to his light, easy smile, and the negotiations continued. Slowly, Ventress lowered her guard, the fear fading and the quickly rising Dark Side fading to a low growl. With a petulant glare to Yoda, she put herself in her place against the wall, head turned to observe the monitor and ignoring the Jedi. Yoda settled back into his seat as the Mandalorian guards slowly stood and cautiously returned to their post, weapons angled in Ventress' direction.

Qui-Gon's heavy hand grabbed Anakin by the shoulder and led him off down the hallway, his stride slow and measured and drawing the Padawan close. "You need to relax," the Master said quietly, and Anakin shook his head.

"I know, Master...I'm trying, but..." Skywalker growled, looking over his shoulder down the hallway towards the room and the monitor they were walking away from. "She's in there with that beast..."

"Padmé will be fine, Anakin. Obi-Wan...the Sith is too smart to do anything here, and he can't manipulate her with the Force while he's in there."

"W-what is the containment field doesn't work?"

Qui-Gon shook his head, smiling gently at his Padawan's concern. "I tested it when we got here. It works."

"Is it painful?"

The Master chewed his lip, stopping when they were a good ways down the hall and alone enough to talk without being overheard. "It can be, yes. It wasn't for me, but I suspect that for a Sith Lord, the absence of the Dark Side will be quite uncomfortable." Anakin grinned broadly, but the smile dropped off his face when he saw how tired and pained his Master looked.

"...I'll do better. I'm sorry, I know that wishing pain on someone isn't the Jedi way..." Anakin sighed heavily. "I just can't help it. Knowing what he did to you..."

"Don't let him get to you. My first priority is _you_ , Anakin, not him. My job is to make sure you become a Jedi, the very best of us. Qui-Gon's eyes were hard as he folded his hands into the sleeves of his robe. "Obi-Wan made his choice. There will only be so much I can do for him, and if he doesn't want my help...then he is truly lost. Don't allow him to draw you toward the dark." Anakin started to say something, but the Master quickly turned from him, looking down the hallway toward the small figures of Satine and Barriss. "I need to talk to the Duchess. Go monitor the situation with Luminara."

With a quick nod, Anakin walked away quickly, eager to do his Master's biding. With a deep breath, Qui-Gon walked toward the two women.

When he approached, Barriss bowed deeply and came to the Master's side, and he quietly asked her to leave them, which the Padawan did with no questions. When she had walked a good way down the hall, Qui-Gon bowed deeply. "Duchess Satine." She offered him her hand, which he took and respectfully brought to his lips, righted himself and smiled at the woman. "I apologize for not seeing you sooner. When we arrived, I asked to inspect the safety of the palace."

"Do the Jedi not trust the guards here?" she asked softly, but the woman was smiling.

"Just a precaution." Qui-Gon looked her over carefully, feeling her with the Force and finding no anger, no hostility. Just...relief. Satisfaction at seeing her old protector. The last time the Jedi had seem the Duchess, she had been young, a teenager with a thin, lanky body, her features promising a future beauty that her angular face had yet to fully manifest. But now, Satine Kryze was beautiful, her every movement marked with the nobility she was born to, the gauntness of her youth filled out into stunning womanhood. There was no possibility that Obi-Wan Kenobi had left her alone.

"It has been a very long time since I have seen you, Master Qui-Gon," the Duchess said softly, a light, musical quality to her voice. "I have not forgotten my Jedi protectors that helped me bring peace to Mandalore."

"I know you have not," he said gently. "You must be pleased that we are attempting for peace here today."

"I am. This is the only way. Obi-Wan would have been a credit to the Jedi, if he had remained with you."

Relief washed over the Jedi Master. Satine had always been honest, and she was making this easy for him. At the very least, she knew that Kenobi wasn't a Jedi. He'd have to test to see how much the woman _did_ know, if she was even willing to tell him. "Listen, Satine..." he started, looking away from the woman as he collected his thoughts. Wording this without offending the woman would be difficult. "Have you had much... _contact_ with Obi-Wan?"

She nodded, her eyebrow arched curiously. "After he left the Jedi, he came to me, yes."

"Was he...different from how you remembered him?"

She scoffed, her hands coming to rest on her hips. "Time does change us, Qui-Gon, and Obi-Wan was without a family. All he had ever known was the Jedi, so yes, when he came to me, he was different." She gave him an icy stare. "If you have something to say, say it."

The Jedi frowned, looking down at the ground before he nodded and stared right into her eyes. "We have reason to believe Obi-Wan is a Lord of the Sith. Do you know what that means?"

"Yes."

"Do you still care for him?"

"Of course. Obi-Wan is an old friend."

"Is that it?" The Duchess' eyes narrowed slightly, so slight that it was nearly imperceptible, but the Jedi saw it, felt the shift in her in the Force as she moved from amiable to guarded. She did not answer verbally; her body language did that for her. "Satine...if you care for Obi-Wan at all, you will turn him from the path he is on. If he went to you after he left the Jedi, than you are the first person he thought of after he fell."

" _Fell_?!"

"That _means_ something, Satine! He has always had...affections for you. If you have that kind of effect on him, than maybe you can help him."

"Obi-Wan doesn't need my help, Qui-Gon, he is _fine_."

"He isn't fine!" he cried, exasperated. "He's _Sith_. Maybe you don't understand, but he has given in to the Dark Side."

"It's just another side of the Force, isn't it?"

"Yes, but not one you want him to be abusing. The Jedi live in harmony with the Force, but the Dark Side is about using the Force for their own means. It's powerful, yes, but the power comes at an awful cost!"

"He is _fine_ ," she growled, and Qui-Gon shook his head.

"Nobody becomes a Sith Lord without sacrifice, Satine, and that sacrifice comes at the expense of others. All Sith have blood on their hands, Duchess. How much does Obi-Wan have?"

" _You_ have blood on your hands as well, Qui-Gon! How often do the Jedi kill in the name of peace?"

"More than we should, but we do it in defense of others. The Sith will do it to further their own goals."

"Obi-Wan hasn't killed _anyone_!"

Qui-Gon looked at the woman with pity. She didn't know what she was dealing with, and it seemed unlikely that he could get through to her. "Maybe you're right," he said softly. "Maybe he hasn't killed anyone. But he has _suffered_." That struck a chord with the woman, her blue eyes widening and the anger and obstinance leaving her. "You've seen it."

Satine nodded slowly, drawing closer to Qui-Gon and laying a hand on his elbow. He covered her hand with his own reassuringly. At the very heart of her was a deep and profound concern for a man she was clearly very close to. "You mustn't tell anyone," she said softly. "I'm only saying anything because I know you, Qui-Gon, and you and Obi-Wan were close once."

"Yes...I'd like to help him, if I can. Please."

"He says it's part of his training. He says...his powers come at a cost. Pain is a teaching tool. He...says he needs pain to truly understand his powers." She shook her head, her blue eyes filled with concern. "He says he doesn't regret it, but...it's difficult to see the scars."

"How did you come to discover this?" He knew the answer, of course, and the look she gave him said that she knew that _he_ knew. But he still needed to hear it. This could not be left unspoken.

"You know I have always been... _fond_ of Obi-Wan."

"When you were young, yes. I understand that you two were a great deal more than just fond of each other."

A faint pink came to the woman's cheeks. "We were so certain you didn't know."

"Satine, Obi-Wan and I shared a bond through the Force. I could feel his desire for you through our connection."

"Hopefully that's the only thing you felt..."

He chuckled softly. "When you are entangled the way you two were, it's next to impossible to remain guarded."

She scoffed, crossing her arms when the faint pink became a fierce red. "That's perfect..."

"A friend of his said that he loved you until the day he left us. I can't presume that you felt the same for so long apart, but if you and he are... _together_..."

She sighed. Qui-Gon knew, and it was pointless to deny it. "He and I are lovers, yes."

"And this is how you have seen the evidence of his torture?"

A cold shiver ran up her spine, and the Jedi could feel her distress. "It _is_ torture, Qui-Gon, you're right. Every time I see him he has new scars, he comes to me with welts and burns and bruises, and he says he doesn't mind, but _I_ do. I never wanted any harm to come to him."

"Nor do I." He took her hand, and it was shaking. "You're probably in a better position to help him than me. Maybe it's too late to turn him from the Dark Side, but it isn't too late to turn him from the Sith. Maybe he can never be a Jedi again, maybe he'll never return to me...but I don't mind if he's safe and happy."

"...I'll talk to him." For a moment, it looked like the Jedi Master might lose control of his emotions, his dark blue eyes wavering with unshed tears that threatened to fall. And then shouting and angry snarling and the sound of metal bending echoed down the hallway. Qui-Gon shot Satine an apologetic look as he turned from her and rushed down the hall.

Qui-Gon arrived to find Ventress in helpless laughter, clutching her sides through her dark gray cloak as she watched the Jedi try and manage their own, and fail at doing so. Anakin Skywalker, his beloved, trusted Padawan, had torn the monitor off of the wall and was holding it in a crushing grip, yelling at the Negotiator through the screen as the two Mirialan's tried their best to restrain him. It wasn't working.

Qui-Gon shot a frantic look toward Yoda, but the little Master hadn't moved from his chair, eyes closed and lost in the Force. He'd just have to deal with this himself.

" _Anakin_!"

"Master, they are _flirting_!" Anakin reeled on Qui-Gon, the two small Mirialans, grasping his arms in a restraining grip, being flung around as he turned. "I won't stand for this! Padmé and I shared something in those carts on our way to be executed! _We shared something special_!"

"I feel like a shared moment in a death arena hardly constitutes as romantic. It just seems like desperation."

" _I'm not desperate, it was special_!"

"Put the monitor down, Anakin!" It took a moment, but Qui-Gon managed to wrest the screen away from the snarling boy with the Force, setting the thing down against a corner. The fastenings were hopelessly broken, and the monitor had no hope of being reattached. New fittings would have to be secured. Anakin stalked to his Master, blue eyes wide and desperate, but Yoda had reached out suddenly when the Padawan passed him by and pulled him back, the mechanical arm striking the wall with a loud, metallic clang.

"Willful, your Padawan is," Yoda rasped, chuckling, and Qui-Gon sighed heavily, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

"That's the least of it..."

"Used to a more temperate Padawan, are you?"

The Master dryly laughed. "Obi-Wan and I argued _constantly_. Anakin is more agreeable." He bit the inside of his lip. "But...it's true Obi-Wan was much more...mild."

"An agreeable temperament, he was."

"Yes."

Yoda nodded. "Worry not, about your Padawan. In my care, he will be, until return to Coruscant, we do."

Qui-Gon nodded wearily and dragged his feet to Luminara, who was kneeling in the corner and watching the monitor, a curious Ventress not far behind and craning her long neck to see from her place nearby. "How is it?" he asked softly, kneeling beside her, and the Mirialan shook her head.

"Not good. He's talked at length about the Jedi and their place in the Republic. He means to remove us from our place in the war effort."

"That's...bad?" Qui-Gon frowned. Something wasn't right. "Removal from the war isn't bad. What's he playing at?"

"On the surface it sounds _really_ nice. But he means to remove us from the _Republic_. He's just..." Luminara bit her thumb as she watched the monitor, carefully listening as the Sith took the Senator's hands and talked so, _so_ softly to her. "Every time she resists him, he diverts the topic until she agrees with him on something. And then he's _right_ back to what they disagreed on, and he gains ground every single time. He's chipping away at her resolve and he can't even access the Force."

"Well, he _is_ called the Negotiator..."

"A title wrongly given. He isn't negotiating, he's persuading. Negotiation implies that there's some give and take, but he's not giving her _anything_."

Qui-Gon nodded and silently watched the screen, listening intently as Obi-Wan's smooth, accented voice plied Padmé over, the Senator easily agreeing with his terms. "We had assumed he was using the Force to get his way."

"We may have made a poor assumption." Luminara hissed as the Sith slid a datapad to the Senator, which she eagerly signed. "We knew this was a trap, but we played right into his hands. Obi-Wan doesn't need the Force to get his way."

"...what have the Sith turned him into?"

"I don't know, Qui-Gon, but it isn't good." She breathed deeply, rising to her feet as the Sith collected his datapad and rose. The meeting was over. "I don't understand. What do the Sith gain by making peace? This deal _sounds_ good. It may take a little time, but I imagine this will extend the cease-fire. Peace could be made quickly, if the politicians are eager for it."

"But peace will bring about the end of the Jedi in the Republic. Maybe that's the goal. Maybe the war will resume when the Jedi are removed and declared neutral."

Luminara looked over at her Padawan, sitting peacefully at Anakin's side, and she frowned. Kenobi had been several steps ahead of them the entire time, and it was never more apparent than it was right now. All of them were in danger.

The door slid open, and before the Senator and the Negotiator had a chance to leave the room, Anakin bolted from his place at the wall and rushed at Obi-Wan, his blue eyes narrowed and furious. Kenobi simply stepped to the side as the teenager ran through, allowing the hapless Jedi to collide with the table, the whole thing falling over with a crash as the Padawan lay in the mess, hands clutched firmly to his head and screaming as he writhed on the floor. Obi-Wan smirked as he watched the suffering boy. Anakin was _always_ said to have more Force potential than he did...whatever that meant. The greater the talent, the wider the void it left when the containment field tore the Force away, and young Skywalker was not accustomed to pain like Kenobi was.

"Oh, Jedi?" the Sith purred, pointing at the agonized teen, the Senator fussing over him. "Do you want to come pick up your pet?" No Jedi moved. Kenobi shrugged, smirking as he watched Ventress pace restlessly along the back wall. "Suit yourself." He took a deep breath and stepped out of the room, passing effortlessly through the blue energy of the containment field.

As if the very air was knocked out of him, Obi-Wan dropped to the floor, sucking in a sharp breath and drawing deeply of the Force, the well of infinite power that surrounded all things, and the Dark Side flooded into him in a vicious, swirling torrent. Luminara drew her lightsaber, the green blade poised and ready but shaking slightly in her unsteady hands, and her Padawan followed suit. She had never felt the Dark Side so strong, not even on her mission to Dathomir, and for a moment, she felt her own connection to the Force weaken in the presence of the oppressive darkness. Kenobi's eyes shot open, a wicked grin on his lips as the dull yellow of his eyes flared with golden fire, glowing even in the bright hall as the Dark Side raged through him. Qui-Gon uneasily stepped closer to Yoda, but the Grandmaster hadn't moved.

And then, the moment was over, almost as soon as it had begun. The Dark Side abated, leaving the Force clear and mostly unclouded, save for Ventress' own presence. She was strong, to be sure, but her own surge of the Dark Side was a still pond next to Kenobi's raging torrent. Ventress ran to her friend, a begrudging smile on her face, before she reeled on Luminara, the Master's green saber still drawn and lit, and the Nightsister drew her own weapons, igniting the two red blades and snarling viciously. None of the women moved, each waiting for the other to flinch first.

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, clicking his tongue as he smoothed back his hair. " _Women_ ," he scoffed. "You're all so...violent. Honestly, it's ridiculous. Come, Asajj, we have things to do."

With a small smirk, Ventress retracted her blades, attaching them to her hip and sauntering beside the Sith Lord. They had only walked a few paces away, quietly beginning to talk amongst themselves when Luminara found her courage, swiftly left her Padawan's side and ran past Qui-Gon and Master Yoda, stopping a little ways from the Sith.

" _Obi-Wan_!"

The man froze. For a long moment, he didn't move, then he leaned over to whisper something to Ventress, the Nightsister looking at him curiously before slightly inclining her head and walking a little ways down the hall, stopping and leaning against the wall when she was far enough to not hear the Jedi clearly. Kenobi turned to face the Jedi Master, his golden eyes meeting the bright blue that once closely matched his own.

"Luminara."

His voice was a soft purr that she had heard so many times before, had missed for years, and it beaconed her. The Mirialan ran to him, stopping just out of reach and holding her breath. She didn't know what to say, now that she was here. She reached out with the Force, touched his mind, but could sense...nothing. She bit her lip as she slowly realized that, while the Dark Side flowed around his companion, nothing could be felt from the Lord of the Sith.

She felt the Dark Side around her mind and, hissing, reinforced her defenses, steeling herself in the Force, and the darkness retreated, but Kenobi showed no hint of being repelled. "You are concealing your Force presence. How."

Obi-Wan smirked. "Skipping the foreplay, dear?" He laughed when the Jedi flushed slightly, and he took a step closer, Luminara taking a step back. "You look well, Luminara. I'm pleased." Yellow eyes drifted over her shoulder to see the other Jedi, his gaze fixed on Barriss, her blue saber still drawn and ready, but the young teen shrank under his intense stare. "And you've taken a _Padawan_! Is that the one I saw with you all those years ago?" Luminara said nothing, and Obi-Wan just shrugged, chucking softly. "Be mindful of that one, my friend. I think you'll find her thoughts on the Dark Side much more in line with my way of thinking than yours."

"I won't be intimidated by you," she growled, not even looking back at her nervous Padawan. "I know how the Sith work."

"Oh, do you?"

Luminara nodded. "You taught me everything I need to know about them."

"Well, if you're going to learn, you may as well be taught by the best."

The Mirialan smirked. "Oh. Pity I wasn't, but I'd be happy to take your recommendation."

He smiled, extending his hand. "Come with me and I'll introduce you to my Master. He'd _love_ you..." Luminara seemed to flinch, drawing back from the chuckling man. "Oh, _sweetheart_ , there is no ignorance, there is knowledge. Don't shy away from your own Code."

"Is that what happened to you?" Her blue eyes narrowed, looking the man over. He _looked_ enough like Obi-Wan. He even acted a fair deal like her fallen friend, but the more she looked at him, the more she felt that he was truly lost.

"I embraced what I learned. One day, the Jedi will as well. It's amazing how quickly your Code falls apart under a little scrutiny."

"And your Code is better?" the woman growled, shoulders tense, and Obi-Wan just nodded.

"Mine is a Code for _all_ life, not just the Jedi that your Masters wish to control." Golden eyes fell on Anakin and Padmé as they staggered out of the containment room, Skywalker gasping for breath as he left the oppression of the field, his arm draped over the Senator's shoulders. "...but I didn't come here to debate philosophy with you, my dear. Perhaps another time." He flashed her a cocky smile and turned from the Mirialan, sauntering down the hall toward his waiting companion.

He never got that far. Anakin rushed him, his speed greatly augmented by the Force and pushed even further by a mindless, blind rage, his lightsaber blue and blazing in his hand, and Kenobi only just managed to ignite his own red blade to block a vicious strike. The golden eyes flared, pupils narrowing as the Sith's perfect mental defenses crumbled, leaving him bare and exposed as the Dark Side raged around him like an inferno. The other Masters tried to run in to help, but the Sith put his hand out, the full weight of the Dark Side slamming into the Jedi and sending them sprawling backwards, striking the walls and falling heavy to the ground. Master Yoda sat, unmoving in his chair, carefully observing.

The unrestrained fury of the Dark Side took Anakin completely by surprise. It was entirely unlike Geonosis. There, the Sith was in control at all times, but _now_...now, the Dark Side was blazing, and Obi-Wan was burning with it. That moment of hesitation was enough for the red saber to slice easily through Anakin's right wrist, burned metal and wires exposed as the hand and the lightsaber dropped to the ground. The Sith's weapon raised, point angled down at Skywalker, and as Kenobi thrust forward, the weapon was torn from his hands and caught easily by the tiny Jedi Grandmaster.

Obi-Wan snarled in frustration, his hand tightly grasping his hair as he turned from the Jedi and struck the wall with his fist, the heavy steel buckling underneath the force of it like paper-thin sheet-metal, shooting Ventress a vicious glare as she ran to him that stopped her in her tracks. His breath was rough and ragged as he wrestled with the Dark Side for control, his strong muscles twitching as he slowly exerted his will over the Force, bending it and shaping it and commanding it to obey him, and within moments, the inferno was caught in his hands and cooled, shrinking away into embers to be hidden away until they needed to be stoked again.

The oppressiveness of the Dark Side abated, and when Kenobi looked over his shoulder, the Jedi were all a few paces behind him, the Mirialans' pointing their lit sabers at him and Qui-Gon carefully attending a wary Anakin with Padmé, the Senator quietly admonishing him for being so foolish. When Skywalker looked sufficiently cowed, Padmé stood, her brown eyes narrowed and glaring at the Sith Lord. She began to say something, but Master Yoda pushed to the front of the group, Kenobi's lightsaber held in his hand.

"Impulsive, Skywalker is," the Master rasped, the lightsaber floating to the Sith, and Obi-Wan wrapped his fingers around it when it landed in his palm. "Apologize, I do, for his temper. A Padawan, he still is."

"They don't make them as they used to, I suppose..." the Sith mumbled, an easy smile coming to his lips as he regained complete control. "I... _apologize_ as well. I shouldn't have lost my temper with a child."

"I'll show you a child, you _son of a bitch_!" Anakin scrambled to his feet, the stub of his metallic hand scraping the floor, and Qui-Gon pulled the teenager to the ground, putting his hand on the boy's chest and laying his full weight down on him. Padmé shot him a withering gaze, and Skywalker pouted and gave up trying to escape.

"I'm sorry, Obi-Wan," the Senator apologized, stepping past little Master Yoda to stand before the Negotiator.

Kenobi smiled. "No need for apologies, Padmé. It was...a misunderstanding. I have found that ancient enemies have a great deal of those."

"Can we not overcome that?" The Senator's voice was soft, hopeful, and the Sith smiled, drawing closer to her. He knew Yoda's eyes were on him, watching carefully, and while the little Master had absolutely no ability to sense Darth Sidious, he knew exactly where to look right now. He had already shown too much that day. Any other use of the Force would have to be quiet and subtle, if used at all.

Golden eyes fell on the Jedi, looking over them carefully. "Yes," he purred, drawing closer to the Senator. "I think we can. I believe the Jedi and the Sith can come to see eye to eye." A bright smile graced Padmé's face, and Kenobi laid his hand on the girl's shoulder, drawing her close and whispering something in her ear. The Jedi couldn't hear what it is, but they watched as the woman's face dropped, her eyes widening as her pupils dilated, engulfing the brown of her eyes. The Jedi moved to take the Senator out of the Sith's clutches, but Yoda raised his hand, and they all stopped, looking at the Master as though he had lost it completely.

Kenobi let the stunned women go, and bowed deeply to the Jedi. "I do hope to see each other again, my Jedi friends. Very, _very_ soon." With that, he turned away from them, commanding Ventress to come, and the Nightsister fell in step next to him.

"Successful?" she asked quietly, far too quiet for the Jedi to hear. The Sith nodded.

"I need to see Satine quickly, and then we'll be on our way." Asajj rolled her eyes.

"You said you wouldn't-"

"Believe me, I need this, or I'm going to be useless on Felucia. I need to be at my best if I'm going to enthrall a Bull Rancor." He shrugged. "The Dark Side demands this of me." Laughing, Ventress shook her head. There could be no helping it, she supposed. The Dark Side took what it wanted, when it wanted it. Who was she to deny the Force itself?

The Jedi watched the Sith and his companion walk away from them, a light, easy laugh coming from the woman, and Luminara's eyes narrowed. They were tense, all of them, except for Yoda and, strangely, Anakin Skywalker.

"What did he say to you, Senator Amidala?" Luminara asked softly, but the woman shook her head.

"Nothing important..." The Mirialan sighed. If the woman would not talk, it was pointless to press further. In time, she would know.

"Master Yoda," the Mirialan whispered. "What did Obi-Wan do to her?"

"Use the Force, he did not." Luminara frowned. Force or not, it clearly wasn't good.

Anakin slowly stood, his Master having released him, and picked up his severed hand with a groan, trying to line up the cut to see if the hand would still move when it received the sparking pulses of the severed wires. It didn't, and he hung his head, sighing. "I hope this thing wasn't expensive..."

"It's only a state of the art piece of technology," Qui-Gon growled. "Don't worry about it off. You can work it off."

Anakin ignored him, looking at the little Master Yoda, the creature's eyes closed in concentration. "Master?" The Grandmaster's ears angled up toward the Padawan. "Was that what you were looking for?"

The eyes of the Masters shot to Yoda, then to Anakin, then back to the softly smiling ancient being, his stick clutched lightly in his hand, and he nodded. "Seen the Sith Lord, I have. Obi-Wan, he is, but a Jedi, he will never again be. Sith, he is. Save him, you cannot."

"Master," Qui-Gon said almost desperately, kneeling before the tiny Jedi. "We have to try. _I_ have to try, he's-"

Yoda jabbed the end of his stick against the center of Qui-Gon's chest. "Only the Dark Side, there is, in Obi-Wan. From this path, he must turn himself. No power, do you have over him." Yoda frowned, looking the Master in the eye. "Your Padawan, he is not. His own choice, Obi-Wan has made. Blame you, he does, but embrace the Dark Side, _he_ did. Not you."

"If we could just arrange to _talk_ to him-"

The stick poked him hard right at the spot where the ribs met, and Qui-Gon nearly doubled over, coughing and wheezing as he tried to catch the breath that was knocked from him. "No," the Master sternly rasped. "Talking, Obi-Wan's power is. The Dark Side, his ally, but power there is in his words, with the Force, and without." Qui-Gon's eyes narrowed, and Yoda raised his stick threateningly. "Looked into him, I did. Intelligence, there is. Loyalty to the Sith. Power, pain and rage, there is. But also cruelty. Also _murder_. Blood there is, on his hands. A killer, Obi-Wan has become."

Qui-Gon hung his head, despondent blue eyes at the ground, and he didn't object again as bitter resignation settled over him. "Is there nothing we can do?" Luminara asked, kneeling beside her friend and laying a small hand on the broad back.

Yoda shut his eyes, and the Masters could feel the presence of the Grandmaster all around them. "Meditate on this, I must. Fearsome, this Sith Lord is. Cautious, we must be."

Anakin scoffed. "He's scared of you, Master Yoda. He won't do anything when you're around."

But the Master shook his head. "Forgot what Ventress said, did you? No fear, does a Sith feel. No fear is there in Obi-Wan. Caution and planning, there is. Mistake them not, Anakin, or to Obi-Wan, you will fall."

Anakin was silent after that, watching the others quietly discuss what had happened. Despite what they had learned that day about the Negotiator, the young Skywalker couldn't shake the feeling that they had lost an important battle.


	24. The Padawan

The lightsabers clashed furiously, sparks flying as green and purple collided with wrathful frequency, the combatants beyond angry as their eyes narrowed in rage. The blades moved so fast they left trails of colors through the air as the weapons struck and showered sparks around their feet. Despite the impressive nature of the vicious fight, the other Jedi had cleared out quickly, Masters taking their Padawans from the room and Knights fleeing in fear. It may have been just a sparring match, but it didn't seem like it when both men were walking dangerously close to the Dark Side. The training room was empty, save for the two combatants and a lone, newly selected Padawan, sitting in a chair near the ring and dutifully taking notes.

The blades locked, purple over green, and Mace pushed forward, snarling viciously as he looked at the similarly violent face of Quinlan Vos. The days following the Battle of Geonosis and the start of the Clone Wars was sobering, numbing to the entire Jedi Order. But now, the peace delegation was returning from Mandalore with supposed success, and the shock of Obi-Wan's survival and betrayal was beginning to wear off. Many Jedi were afraid. Less were called to action, the need for justice filling them with purpose in their hunt for the Sith Lord. But Mace Windu and Quinlan Vos were neither of these things. They were _furious_.

For Mace, it was a matter of personal pride. He was one of the most powerful Jedi in the Order, certainly the greatest duelist, and he had been in charge of coordinating Obi-Wan's activities in Sith Space during his long-term mission after his knighthood. He had extended contact with the young man, had fought with him often, argued with him always, and yet, not once did he feel the Dark Side boiling within the boy. Almost worse, it was Mace that had readied young Kenobi for a confrontation with Dooku, a man that Obi-Wan had, for a very long time, insisted was Sith. Windu had never believed him when he said so, but just in case, he had gone to the Knight to prepare him for what he may face if it came to combat.

The smarter thing would have been to go himself. After all, Dooku and Mace had often tested each other's lightsaber skills, and old as Dooku was, he was vastly talented with a weapon. He never blamed himself, but when Obi-Wan had died, Windu couldn't help but feel that Kenobi should have been better supported for such a dangerous mission, and now, knowing that he was alive, it was clear that many lives could have been spared if only the Masters had listened. Now, another Sith Lord was added to the list, and the betrayal made the Master Jedi absolutely furious.

For Quinlan Vos, it was personal. Obi-Wan had been his friend, easily his best in the Order. He and Obi-Wan shared an antagonistic friendship that was born out of vastly different values, and yet, because of their differences, they complimented each other well, far better than they could have ever expected. And right under his nose, Kenobi had fallen to the Dark Side. The Masters had tried to tell Quinlan it wasn't his doing, but the Kiffar knew better. He was devastated when his friend had died, spending his time drowning the pain in alcohol and women and increasingly dangerous missions, and slowly, the Kiffar came to accept the shocking death of Obi-Wan. His dangerous behavior had continued, but Quinlan just got better at it, opting to bring Obi-Wan's memory with him instead of letting him go.

When he heard his friend wasn't dead, but fallen to the Dark Side, he believed it immediately. Kenobi's death was senseless, pointless and lost for meaning, but his turn to the Sith felt... _natural_. He couldn't believe he hadn't felt this could have happened. After all, Obi-Wan's powers had grown in their time in Sith Space, his obsession with killing the Sith leading him to increasingly reckless behavior to find them. Quinlan had felt a change in Kenobi, yes, but he thought nothing of it. After all, he wasn't one to judge a Jedi for flirting with the Dark Side, since he did it often enough. But Kenobi...

When the shock wore off, he was left angry, not at Obi-Wan, but at himself. For not noticing the darker change, for not feeling the Dark Side swirling within him, for encouraging behavior that ended up shaping the Sith Lord, for not being there when hid friend had fallen. It was self-loathing at its finest, and despite his rage, he didn't hate Obi-Wan, couldn't find it in himself to face him, though he knew he would have to. Obi-Wan probably needed to die, but Quinlan knew he didn't have it in him to do it.

The fury consumed both Masters, and they recognized it quickly, which led them here, fighting for all they were worth, allowing their beings to teeter dangerously close to the Dark Side in an effort to purge themselves of their anger, expend their energy and hatred through combat so they may once again find focus. It was weirdly working.

Sweat dripped from the Masters as they threw everything they had against each other, their feet skidding on the ground as they blocked and dodged and lunged, dust rising from the compacted dirt of the arena, the entire ring scorched with deep, burning lines from deflected saber strikes. The fight had gone on for a long time, and they were both beginning to wear and make mistakes, barely dodging wild, swift strikes, and once or twice, Mace's purple saber had singed through the growling Kiffar's hair.

In an instant, Mace struck home with a vicious growl, thrusting the saber up through the other Master's stomach, the blade extending out through the howling Kiffar's back, but even then, the wrathful man wasn't stopped. With the last of his strength, he drove his green lightsaber through Mace's back, piercing both Windu's lungs and his own. Their bodies stiffened, and despite the saber's low settings, the pain was burning through them, their fatigue and worn defenses only making it worse. They both dropped to the ground, the sabers deactivating and the Masters coughed, wheezing from pain and exhaustion and sweat dripping from their faces onto the dust on the ground.

Quinlan started laughing, softly at first, but it quickly built into a loud, easy thing that made him even more breathless than before. "That was...necessary." Mace nodded, but said nothing. "I really needed that."

"You're going to have to fight like that if you're going to kill that Sith."

Quinlan scoffed, rising to his feet. "That Sith was always better with a lightsaber than me. At my best, I couldn't beat him."

"I'm better than you," Mace drawled, brushing the dust off his robes and running his hand over his bald head. "But you still won that fight."

"If it was a real duel, I'd be dead."

"Yes, but so would I. That's still victory."

"Uh, no. No it isn't." He whistled, and the Padawan in the chair looked up and jumped to her feet, clutching the datapad to her chest and running into the ring. "Are you listening to this, Ahsoka?"

The Togruta nodded, smiling brightly. "Yes, Master."

"Oh good. Ignore it. There's no victory in death." The Padawan frowned and opened the datapad, drawing a line across the screen, and Mace groaned.

"Is this how you trained Secura?"

"Nope! Aayla was an easier temperament than this one." He winked at the Padawan, the young teen grinning with pride, tugging at the beaded chain that hung from her lekku, serving as a substitute for a Padawan braid on her hairless head. Mace just rolled his eyes, clipping his saber on to his belt.

"Master Yoda should be back from Mandalore by now. I need to confer with him. We'll do this again."

"Next time, I'm going to shove my saber right up your ass. Be ready for _that_ , sweetheart." Windu just glared at the grinning Master, shaking his head as he left the training arena for the Council chamber. Ahsoka stood next to her towering Master, looking up at him with awe and respect. Quinlan was notorious, and a lot of the initiates, as eager as they were to become Padawans, didn't want to be taken in by a controversial Master. Ahsoka, however, wasn't a normal initiate. She was fourteen years old, easily the oldest in her group, having failed to be taken in for training several times in the past. It wasn't that she lacked for talent, no, Ahsoka Tano had it in abundance, both in terms of lightsaber skill and Force potential, but the girl was... _arrogant_. Cocky and stubborn and reckless and impulsive with a mouth on her that failed to show even the slightest inkling towards respect, the Masters had said, and not just once, far more times than she could count.

She did _try_ to improve her chances, but as Master Plo was always saying, she was...willful, and the Knights and Masters looking to take on a Padawan were all nervous in the wake of the return of the Sith and Dooku's betrayal. Now with the legendary Obi-Wan Kenobi exposed as a Sith Lord as well, her chances of being chosen had gone from slim to none. Nobody wanted to be the Jedi that trained the next one to fall, the next Sith Lord. Nobody wanted the pain that Qui-Gon Jinn faced every single day. And then there was Quinlan Vos.

Ahsoka couldn't believe it when the Kiffar Master had selected her out of the group of younger initiates, especially after her frantic, erratic showing. Nobody else could believe it either. Several Masters actually attempted to sway him to another student, but it seemed like their disapproval only made Master Vos more certain of his decision. The Togruta couldn't have been more pleased. After all, one of her earliest memories was of Obi-Wan Kenobi, the Sithkiller before he became Sith himself, and the young girl had wanted nothing more than to be his Padawan at the time. Now, she didn't know what to feel about Obi-Wan. She knew how she was told to feel, that the man was a traitor, a coward, a menace that had to be put down, but when she thought about the man and his reserved, blue eyes and a desire to protect the Jedi from the Sith, all she could feel was sympathy and pity. Not understanding, of course, but she felt bad for him. It was a difficult path he had chosen, and something awful must have happened to turn him from the only home, the only _family_ he had ever known.

Her one brief, fleeting encounter with the Sithkiller had shaped her, though, filled her with a burning desire to defeat the Sith so the Jedi could once again be safe. She feared that day would never come, but when Quinlan Vos took her hand, she could not have been more pleased. _This_ was her chance, and she stood beside one of the greatest Masters in the Order. It felt right. Deep within her, she knew that only a wild, unconventional mess of a Jedi could train her right. After all, the Kiffar had done wonders with Aayla Secura, and she was known to be ridiculously mischievous. Ahsoka Tano would never make it as the Padawan of a great Jedi like Master Windu or Luminara Unduli...but she might do well under the wild and untamed Quinlan Vos.

And better yet, it was said that her new Master was best friends with Obi-Wan Kenobi, her childhood hero and recent enemy of the Jedi Order. This was only her second day as the man's Padawan, so she hadn't had a chance to ask about Kenobi yet, but she would. She imagined that the subject was sensitive, even if the renegade was no longer dead. The idea of a Jedi turned Sith was...unsettling at best, and she knew there were many around that wished Obi-Wan had the good sense to lose his life against Dooku instead of joining him. She wasn't sure if Quinlan was one of those people yet.

"Well," Quinlan said, smacking the dust off his robes, only to leave dustier hand prints in his wake, "second day on the job and you aren't dead yet."

"Neither are you, Master." He grinned widely at his slyly smirking learner and laughed, large hand on her back and leading the Togruta out of the ring.

"If Yoda's back, so is Qui-Gon and Luminara. I'm sure one of them had the opportunity to slap Kenobi around." He took a deep breath, stretching his arms up towards the vaulted ceiling. "Let's go interrogate them! That's a very important skill for a Jedi, Obi-Wan taught me that." He glowered. "Before he was Sith..."

"...Master?" It was as good a time as any. The Kiffar looked down at her, his brown eyes affected with a lazy ease. "You were friends with Obi-Wan, right?"

Quinlan scoffed. "I _am_ friends with him, Ahsoka. He's just..." He growled, running his hand through his thick, messy hair. "Alright, you know how sometimes you have that friend that has a spice addiction? And he can't get off of it, and he's lost everything and meets with his dealers in back allies to, you know..." He pointed to his mouth. "Oral sex for drugs. You know?" Ahsoka shook her head, blushing. "Oh. _Well_ , you know how you have that friend that gets hooks on death sticks? And you try to stop him, but he ends up in clubs giving lap dances to Senators? Right?"

"I-I don't think I know anyone like that..."

"Damn it, Ahsoka... _alright_! You know how you have that friend that can't stop spreading his legs for bad boys?" Ahsoka's orange face turned a shade of red and she bit her lower lip, her discomfort going unnoticed by the Master. "And every single time you're out with him, boy walks by, gives him that look, and it's pants down, ass up in the middle of the street! Horribly embarrassing. Tiny bit sexy. Next thing you know, you're buried inside your friend and he won't stop badgering you for sex!"

"Kriffing Hell, Master, what sort of people are you hanging out with!"

"The wrong kinds, apparently," he mumbled, smirking lazily at the Jedi they passed that were giving the pair _very_ strange looks. "Look, the point is, Obi-Wan is that friend for me."

"...he's a drugged out, lascivious reprobate?"

"Yes, _exactly_!" Quinlan shrugged. "But his drug of choice is the Dark Side, and Obi-Wan was never very sexual, but if you're going to join the Sith and _not_ have sex, what's the kriffing point? That's, like, the _one thing_ those passion obsessed bastards have over the Jedi."

The Padawan looked at him curiously. "Master, I have heard that _you_ engage in a great deal of physical passion."

"What, _me_?!" The Kiffar shouted, surprised, a hand on his chest and clutching his heart from the shock of the accusation. "I would _never_! Who have you heard this from?!"

"Barriss," she drawled, and Quinlan clenched his jaw. "She says you talk to Master Luminara about _everything_." She crossed her arms over her tiny chest. "I believe her."

"Yeah, you probably should." Vos laughed loudly, nudging his Padawan along. He liked this girl. "Those Mirialans are disgustingly trustworthy. Don't believe a word they say."

"Didn't you just say I _should_ -"

" _The point_ , Ahsoka, is that when you have a friend that is self-destructing in the most fantastic way possible, you can put him out of his misery or just... _watch_ as he burns. And I do hate to ruin a guy's fun..."

"You _want_ the Sith to live?"

"No, stupid, I want to put him in a rehabilitation facility! Obi-Wan Kenobi was like my brother. I was with him when he got positively wasted and went to bed with two beautiful women at once! I was with him when he was nearly killed and eaten by Dark Side cave ghouls on a Sith world! And...I was with him when he began developing the skills that he would eventually use when he became the Negotiator. He started to fall with me." Quinlan stopped walking and leaned against a wall, covering the yellow tattoo on his face with his hand. "In hindsight, it's so obvious, I must be an idiot to not have seen it..."

His carefree voice was much quieter now and laden with guilt and concern, and Ahsoka felt a surge of sympathy for the man. She reached out with the Force to touch at his mind, and recoiled when she felt the Kiffar throw up his defenses, blocking her out and looking at her with a cold glare. Her blue eyes widened with hurt; she didn't mean to offend the Master, presume too much by reaching out to him, and she felt awful. She bit her lip and looked away, letting go of the Force and letting the Master be.

She only moved when she felt the Kiffar sigh, his callused, tanned hand cupping her face and drawing her close, delicately stroking the lekku that fell over her shoulder as he touched her with the Force, warm and comforting and apologetic, and Ahsoka sighed, dropping her defenses and letting him in. She felt his presence within him, felt him drop his own defenses and draw her into himself as well, and images from the Kiffar's life flashed through her mind. He had _always_ been rambunctious, much like her, and as he grew, he only got more free-spirited. She saw his many drunken nights, brief flashes of his passions with women, his successful missions, his very few failed ones.

But most of all, she saw Obi-Wan, the Jedi Knight that the Kiffar had been so close to that the two men had formed a bond through the Force, which was _excessively_ rare to occur between anyone outside of a Master Padawan relationship. The Jedi philosophy of remaining unattached prevented this from happening, but for Quinlan Vos and Obi-Wan Kenobi, two Jedi that very much existed outside the confines of the Code, their deep friendship was undeniable. The pain of his friend's death was severe, a Force bond brutally cut that left the Kiffar reeling and lost, driving the man to becoming a functional alcoholic in his absence. And then, the Jedi learned that Kenobi was a Sith, and the pain was replaced by rage, knowing that the man had lived and left his friends and family forever, effectively making the past six years of mourning amount to nothing at all.

In their shared mental state, Ahsoka felt a connection form between herself and her Master, a thin stream of the Force opening between them that, if properly nurtured, could become a mighty river. She could feel it deep within herself; she was a good fit for Quinlan Vos.

Ahsoka didn't know she was crying until the Kiffar's thumb wiped tears away from her cheek, and she gasped, looking up at him and shaking her head. "I-I'm sorry, Master, I-"

"Don't apologize. It _is_ sad. You should have seen Qui-Gon, I thought he was going to kill himself."

"A Jedi wouldn't do that...w-would they?"

Quinlan shrugged. "We're people too, Ahsoka. Grief does some shit to people, even to the best of Jedi." He smiled, taking his hand from the Padawan's face and lightly punching her thin shoulder. Smirking, the Togruta punched him back, though much harder. Quinlan's grin grew wider. "Ahsoka Tano. You're going to be good for me, I think."

* * *

 

Quinlan and Ahsoka found the returned Jedi fairly easily. They just had to follow the commotion. The Padawan eyed her Master when he very easily followed a path of frustrated Jedi to the infirmary. She suspected that everywhere her Master went would be like this. The Kiffar seemed to attract a fair amount of chaos, and he did seem to like it.

"Are all your friends this disruptive?" she drawled, and the Master smirked.

"My best friend is a Sith Lord. What do you think?" Ahsoka shrugged. That did seem to explain it, and without another question, she followed Quinlan into the infirmary. They easily found the Jedi they were looking for and, like a few days earlier, Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Padawan, was laying in a bed with his right hand missing. Quinlan erupted in laughter.

"Oh no, _Skywalker_!" he cried between gasps of helpless laughter. "What happened? Did the Negotiator talk your hand off?"

"He _cut_ it off, Master Vos..." Anakin growled through clenched teeth, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

"Oh, I _bet_ he did. He must like you, Anakin, this is beginning to seem a bit like foreplay."

"Or maybe he's just in over his head," Ahsoka drawled next to her Master, and Anakin's sharp blue eyes snapped to the newcomer.

"...Master Vos. What is _that_."

" _That_ is my new Padawan, Ahsoka Tano." The girl put her hands on her hips, chin raised proudly, and Anakin just smirked.

"Really? She seems too old to be just getting started, she must be a reject. You picked pretty badly, Master."

" _Badly_?!" Ahsoka strode forward and glared at the smirking teen. "At least _I_ still have my hands," she drawled, wiggling her fingers, " _Skyguy_."

"Wait, what did you just call me?!" Anakin threw his legs over the edge of the bed and drew up to his full height, chest puffed and looking as impressive as he could, which was admittedly not much with a missing, mechanical hand. "Don't you get snippy with me, I've been a Padawan since I was _nine_! I've seen real combat, what have you done?"

"Well, kept both of my hands, to start..."

Anakin growled and was quietly shoved back on the bed by Qui-Gon, the quiet Master giving him a look that said he had enough with Skywalker's anger for the day. With a huff, Anakin threw himself back, closing his eyes and waiting for his mechanical arm to be repaired.

" _This_ is your new Padawan?" Luminara asked, aghast, and the Kiffar grinned broadly.

"Sure is!"

"Not much in terms of deference and respect, is she?"

"Luminara, _why_ would I want that. The last Jedi I was with that was respectful and uptight turned to the Sith. I need a fierce fighter, and this girl's it." The Mirialan looked the Kiffar over, her chest tight. She was still stressed and strained about what had happened on Mandalore, and Quinlan had refused to go for fear of meeting his old friend. If he was so easily talking about it now, than staying behind must have done him some good. Her own Padawan was now talking excitedly talking with young Ahsoka. She knew Barriss had a friend in the Togruta, but she didn't expect the girl to be this... _willful_. Her own Padawan was so respectful and obedient, that it seemed strange that such different people would be such fast friends. Though, she supposed, a similar relationship existed between Quinlan and Obi-Wan before his turn.

"How have things been here?" Luminara asked, drawing closer to Quinlan, and the Master shrugged easily.

"Fine. The Order is preparing for war. The Council is preparing to announce their new Council members. Congratulations on your promotion, by the way, _General_ Luminara."

"General?!" the woman gasped, shocked, and she grabbed hold of Quinlan's arm, partly to bring him down closer to her, and partly for support. "They made me a general?"

He nodded. "With your own ship to command, and seven thousand clones to serve under you."

"T-that's madness!"

" _I know_!" he chirped, smiling broadly and his brown eyes seeming to dance with excitement. "Ahsoka and I went to see the fleet this morning. The _Tranquility_ is beautiful, you'll like her!"

"We just came back from peace talks, what is the Republic doing assigning us to warships?!"

"Well nobody actually thinks this will work out." He rolled his eyes when Luminara grit her teeth in frustration, her little green hands tightly gripping the folds of her long robe. "It's not just you, Qui-Gon and I are generals as well. We've got ships as well." The Kiffar crossed his arms, grinning. "I named mine the _Dauntless_!"

"...well, at least that's fitting..."

The woman was silent, and Quinlan carefully cleared his throat, drawing so close to her that her thin body brushed his. "...how was Mandalore?"

"Bad, Quinlan, if Anakin's hand is any indication."

"That isn't an indication at all, he's making a habit of losing hands, it would seem."

She shook her head and ran her hand over her face. She was suddenly overcome with weariness. The past few hours hadn't seemed real. "He ran circles around the Senator, and all without use of the Force. Obi-Wan got everything he wanted with nearly no effort at all. He even got her to sign a proposal for peace that he wrote _before_ the meeting."

Quinlan laughed loudly. "Well, that's Obi-Wan for you. I told you he'd be dangerous."

"I never doubted that." Luminara sighed heavily and leaned against the taller Jedi. "But he's more dangerous than we realize. Master Yoda said so as well. He got a chance to look within him, Quinlan, and he said he saw only darkness. There is no saving him."

"...did he look like himself, at least?" The Mirialan considered this quietly for a moment before she slowly nodded.

"He's concealing his Force presence, but...yes. He felt like Obi-Wan. He _looked_ like him as well, except for the eyes." She shivered. "Master Yoda says he's still Obi-Wan, but all that's left is the Dark Side. It's time to let go."

"If he's still Obi-Wan, than he's _still_ Obi-Wan." Quinlan smirked, watching the Mirialan Master shake her head in dismay. "If he isn't twisted beyond all recognition, than that's good enough for me. A little bit of the Dark Side never scared away Quinlan Vos."

"It isn't a little bit of the Dark Side, Quin, he's _filled_ with it! There's nothing left but darkness."

The Kiffar shrugged. "I'll have to see for myself, I suppose. If the peace talks continue, I assume there will be another opportunity to meet with him. And if not..." The Master inclined his head toward his new Padawan. "Little Ahsoka there is untested. The field of battle may be a good place to test her."

"A battlefield is no place for a Padawan, Quinlan!"

"Maybe not," he purred, drawing her close and looking at the three learners, Skywalker, hopelessly frustrated in his bed as a droid affixed a new arm to him, Ahsoka pointing and laughing and making as much fun of him as she could get away with, and Barriss, between the two and trying to keep the peace. "But our Padawans aren't average, are they?"

"...no, I suspect they aren't." A faint smile came to the grim Mirialan's lips, and the Kiffar chuckled deeply.

"I sense greatness in them, Luminara. Just see if they don't come out of this war as legends."


	25. Preparations

Obi-Wan Kenobi was laying lazily over his command chair, his long fingered hand running through the thick, black hair of the kneeling Jedi Master Eeth Koth and laughing uncontrollably as a massive Bull Rancor raged through entire divisions of hapless battle droids. The hunt on Felucia had been more than successful, though several females of the species had to be killed in order to draw out the mighty male Bull Rancors, the most fearsome and aggressive of all the varieties of the species. They were much bigger, much more vicious and sported four massive horns on their hard, pale heads, and Kenobi would settle for nothing less. He didn't get one. He got _three_.

When they arrived, the natives had been... _convinced_ to tell the Sith Lord that the dangerous bulls could not be captured or tamed, unlike the more docile females or the lesser males. But Obi-Wan Kenobi was a Lord of the Sith, and the Felucians hadn't encountered anyone with his proclivities before. After all, the Felucians didn't need convincing to join the Separatists. The first Bull Rancor they encountered was mistakenly killed when Kenobi had entered its mind and utterly destroyed it, leaving the beast drooling and docile and devoid of any of the ferocious temperament that the Sith longed for. He had Ventress kill it. A creature that could not serve him was not worth keeping alive.

The second one had to die too, but that was more poor timing, the hapless creature getting caught in the full brunt of Kenobi's rage at having to kill the first one. He had killed that one himself, the Sith Lord expending his pent-up wrath on the ferocious creature in a fight that was hardly more than a predator playing with prey that didn't know it was about to be eaten. The burned, bloody Rancor didn't die until the red lightsaber sunk slowly into its large, black eye, the Sith shivering as he felt the rush of the Dark Side as the life left the apex predator.

But the _next_ three...those he captured. The creatures hadn't needed a terrible amount of pressure to submit to his will, as he had learned from his mistake with the first one, and it only took moments to subdue the massive beasts, bringing the snarling, growling creatures to lay prone at his feet, almost seeming to purr when he placed his hand on their massive heads. He had to arrange for massive transports courtesy of the local Confederate leadership to bring the beasts back to his ship, which they had happily done for their commander. After all, they all knew of the Negotiator's reputation, and the man had three new pets that they were quite a bit terrified of.

The planet didn't have much in terms of highly aggressive species, but Kenobi made sure to grab about two dozen Felucian Rippers, a particularly dangerous species of ariel hunter that he planned to use against the clones.

And all of these creatures were now running free aboard the _Negotiator_.

"You know," Ventress drawled from a chair close to Kenobi's, "so far, in this war, the greatest reason for the destruction of Confederate forces is _you_."

Obi-Wan scoffed. "I'm not doing anything, it's the Rancor." He chuckled maniacally as the savage beast raged across the large room, stopping and shaking it's massive horned head when it came too close to a wall, and then it changed its path, returning to the destruction of the standard battle droids, as per his Master's wishes. Kenobi didn't want his ship hurt.

"I feel like it stops being the Rancor's fault when _you're_ the pilot."

"Nonsense, my dear! The Rancor has it's mind! It just _knows_ who its Master is." The long fingers gripped tightly in the black hair, and the Jedi on the ground gasped in a mix of pain and pleasure. "Isn't that right, Eeth?" The Jedi didn't answer. He just groaned and stroked at the Sith's leg, kissed at his soft, black boots, and Kenobi grinned. "See? Even the Jedi knows it!"

Ventress huffed, crossing her arms and looking as cross as she was able. "Dooku is going to be _so angry_ with you," she growled, and Kenobi rolled his eyes.

"For destroying his useless droids? Sweetie, I have been using them as practice for _months_. He gave up trying to lecture me a while ago."

"That was before the war."

"That was before I had _three pet Bull Rancors_!" He grinned, using the Force to bring a glass of expensive liquor to his hand. "I think these are worth a great deal more than some useless droids. I'm keeping the good ones locked up anyway, he can't be _too_ angry." The circular holotable behind them began beeping with an incoming transmission, and the droids on the control deck answered the call before Kenobi could command them not to. The Sith closed his eyes when he heard Dooku's deep voice begin speaking to the droids, the chattering monotone of the mechanicals requesting aid to deal with the beasts on the ship. That particular droid found itself lifted into the air, it's voice box wailing as it twisted unnaturally and was quickly crushed in a shower of sparks and groaning metal.

With a sigh, Kenobi rose from his chair, tapping the Jedi on his horned head and he sauntered to the holotable, his Zabrak slave close on his heels. "Disregard that request, Dooku, everything's fine."

Dooku frowned, glaring at the cocky Sith, that insufferable smirk on his lips, and Tyranus felt himself burn. Kenobi didn't seem to take anything seriously, and, like the Lord that he was, he seemed to have a complete disregard for expensive equipment. He didn't need to take finances into account. Kenobi believed that _everything_ was his to do with as he liked. "Really. Your command droid doesn't seem fine."

"I know, it _broke_! I wonder how that happened..." Dooku uttered a long-suffering groan and covered his eyes. "Honestly, the T-series tactical are _so_ unreliable. Wasn't the Techno Union going to make us some more advanced models?"

"They _are_ , Kenobi, but you and Grievous aren't getting any, since you have such a disregard for expensive equipment."

"Wait, _no_ , Grievous has the best ship in the fleet! And he's well supplied with commando droids and MagnaGuard! I would be so much happier if I had his arsenal!" There was a deafening roar, Dooku wincing as he heard it, and glaring at the Sith when five battle droids soared over his head. Kenobi smiled sheepishly.

" _This_ is why you don't have nice things," Dooku growled. " _What_ was that."

"...my Rancor..."

"You _didn't_..."

"They're friendly!" More battle droids soared overhead, these ones in pieces. "I promise!"

" _They_?!" Dooku crossed his arms. "Do you have more than one Rancor on that ship?"

"Noooo..." Another roar, and Dooku grit his teeth. "...maybe three."

Tyranus shook his head and sighed. It was best to ignore this. "I need you on Christophsis." Kenobi yawned and pulled up the galaxy map, entering the coordinates for the planet and looking up the data he had on it.

"Ooh...undeclared crystalline world," Obi-Wan purred, looking at the images he had on file of the large, formations on the planet's surface. "You want it brought into the Confederacy?"

"Secretly, if you can," Dooku drawled, holding up his datapad. "I got your peace proposal, and I will bring it to the attention of the Council tomorrow, but for our Master's plan to work, we need the planet secured. He's going to send forces to liberate it from us as soon as he hears that you have taken it."

Kenobi nodded and sent the coordinates for Christophsis to the dreadnaught's navigation, and a low rumbling indicated that the massive engines had powered up. "No conflict, then?"

"Not when you get there. There is a Republic relief effort there right now. The miners on the planet are working in terrible conditions and are subjected to slavery. A Senator from Alderaan is leading the effort to help."

Kenobi smirked. "Might be worth it to find him as well. Don't worry, I'll take care of this. Nothing like undermining a peace effort to start the day." He yawned, reaching behind him when the Rancor roared again and used the Force to subdue the creature, the massive beast growling submissively and laying on the ground. The Jedi Master next to him also dropped to his knees. "How is our Master going to pull this off? There's a cease-fire in effect until the negotiations are over."

"We're going to blockade the planet. It will look like an invasion, and they have a Senator in the capital. He will obviously not be allowed to leave."

Kenobi nodded. "I see what he's doing. Anything else?"

"More than you know..." Dooku dropped into a chair, the hologram wavering as the ship picked up speed, and for a moment, the Count looked...weary. Dooku never truly looked his age, but now, it showed. Kenobi bit his lip and took out his datapad.

"Tell me what you need." The Count looked up, glaring at the other Sith Lord, but Kenobi was...sincere. His eyes narrowed.

"What are you playing at, Obi-Wan."

" _Nothing_! I know that messing with you is my prerogative, but this war is our Master's work. I wouldn't disrupt his plans, and that means working with you. _Tell me what you need_."

"...strategic systems are contested territory," Dooku began after a long pause, a faint smile on his lips as Kenobi began scrawling on the datapad. It was rare for the younger Sith to be cooperative, and he was going to take advantage of this while he could. "Christophsis, the Ryloth System, and the Toydaria System are key points that we must secure if we are to ensure that the war goes as planned. The Confederacy will be crushed if we cannot secure these points early." Kenobi nodded, but said nothing, quickly writing. "We also need to gain control of Hutt Space. If we do, we will control most of the hyperspace lanes in the Outer Rim. We can bottleneck the Republic forces if we can secure Hutt cooperation."

Obi-Wan repressed a laugh. "So, what I'm understanding is that you want me to enter negotiations with two species that are notoriously resistant to the Force."

Dooku shrugged. "I saw what you did to Senator Amidala in a containment field, and you have boasted about being able to break Hutts and Toydarians in the past."

"I _can_ ," he growled, dropping the datapad on the table. "The _problem_ is that the intrusion is often _violent_." He yawned. "The last time I compelled a Hutt, the creature was left _slightly_ brain dead."

Dooku groaned. "Tell me, Kenobi, how do you leave anything _slightly_ brain dead?" The younger Sith opened his mouth to answer, but the Count shook his head. "Never mind, don't answer that. This was before you started learning from the holocron, so you should be able to accomplish this with a... _gentler_ touch, yes?"

"Yes, I _suppose_ ," Kenobi sighed. "I can have this done by the end of the week. I'm assuming our Master will have discredited Amidala and made the peace talks fall through by then, yes?"

"If you secure Christophsis for us first, than absolutely. The Republic will be forced into military action to extract their Senator, and the Jedi will be compelled to liberate a supposedly invaded planet."

"Jedi..." The Sith's hand winded in Master Koth's hair, the man groaning pitifully under the influence of the Sith Lord. He had long since given up resisting. "I need to be on Christophsis when the fighting breaks out if the Jedi are going to be there. I need a new plaything."

"Why," Dooku drawled. "You haven't done anything with your old one."

"Yes I have!" Kenobi growled, offended. "I've been preparing to release him from my control. He's going back to the Jedi, aren't you, pet?" The Master leaned against the Sith's leg, clutching at his robes tightly with an almost desperate abandon.

"You're going to just let him go?" Dooku asked, eyebrow raised. "Why? There are better ways to send a message to the Jedi."

"I agree, but there aren't many better ways to raid the holocron vault. Do try to pay attention..." Dooku scoffed and rolled his eyes, and the other Sith just grinned. "Once he's back in the Temple, he's going to bring us the Sith holocrons the Jedi keep. Sure, he'll probably die in the process, but he's expended his use to me anyway."

"It'll never work," Dooku drawled. "The Jedi will sense Dark Side corruption in him. They'll never let him back in the Order."

Kenobi shrugged carelessly. "Who cares if it doesn't work. I need to test how far my control extends, and this is the best way to do it." He pet the Zabrak's head. "Would you like that, Eeth? Your Master needs you." The Jedi whimpered desperately, clinging to the Sith like he was all that mattered. "I win regardless," he drawled to Dooku. "Either we get the holocrons, or the Jedi will be forced to kill one of their own. No matter the outcome, the Jedi will begin to see Sith within their own ranks, and their lack of unity will make them weak."

"And what about him?" the Count drawled, pointing to the enthralled Jedi.

"Oh, he needs to die." Kenobi glared at the Jedi clinging to him and looking up at him with unfocused, clouded eyes. "He's no more use to me. I can only use him once, and if the Jedi don't kill him, I will. I haven't killed a Jedi since I fell, I'm starting to get itchy."

"You have had _several_ opportunities for it, Kenobi..."

"Yes, but I want them to _beg_ for it..." He tilted the Jedi's face up, a lazy smile on his lips. "It would _greatly_ please me if I got to kill you, Eeth. Would you like that?"

The Jedi whimpered softly, wavering for a moment before clutching at the Sith's hand. "Yes, Master..."

"There isn't a single thought in that head of yours, is there?" Kenobi purred, reaching into his mind and finding no resistance, no will, no desire but his own.

"I _do_ hope you haven't removed my apprentice's brain as you have done to this Jedi," the Count droned, rolling his eyes when Kenobi gently cooed to his captive as if her were a treasured pet.

"Of course not, I _love_ Ventress!"

"She is with you, then?" Kenobi looked over the hologram. The Count was not pleased.

"... _yeeeeeesss..._ "

" _Really_." The tone was harsh, much colder than Obi-Wan had heard the man in a while, and he looked back to where Ventress was sitting, the woman trying to sink into the chair she was seated in. "She didn't tell me where she was going."

" _Of course_ she didn't! I just took her!" Kenobi laughed loudly when Asajj shot him a grateful look. "I didn't give her a choice."

"I've told you a _thousand times, Kenobi_!" the Count shouted, rising from his seat and Obi-Wan quickly punched in the hyperspace coordinates, smirking as the ship's hyperdrive engaged with a low, escalating whine. "Stop taking my things! If you-"

The hologram cut as the ship shot forward into hyperspace, the blue and white lines streaking around the viewport. Ventress groaned loudly and slumped in her seat, tensing for a moment when the Sith's strong hands grabbed her shoulders and began kneading into the lean muscle, and she quickly relaxed. "He's going to kill me..."

"That seems likely, yes. You told me he didn't care."

"I didn't think he would!" she snarled. "He destroyed me last night, he said I'd never amount to anything! He said I was _useless_."

"Well, you are as a Sith. He's still trying to train you as one, it would seem..."

"...what do I do?"

Kenobi smirked and leaned over to kiss her cheek, "Leave this one to me, my dear."

* * *

 

Christophsis was beautiful, the city built into huge, crystalline formations that rose out of the ground, the city bustling with activity. Things didn't look too bad here, and Kenobi couldn't help but wonder exactly what the planet needed in terms of aid. He closed his eyes, reached out into the Force, his consciousness leaving him and entering into the planet, feeling the rush of the civilians, the pulse of life within the city, and the suffering of countless below the surface as they toiled in the mines. There it was.

Kenobi opened his eyes, his sharp yellow eyes taking quick stock of the city. On closer inspection, many of the people appeared to be refugees, and as he walked, camps and aid stations had been set up in side allies all over the busy city. On the surface, it appeared to be thriving, but there was suffering here, and Obi-Wan couldn't help but wonder how a Senator ended up getting permission to be here, given how close it was to the Corellian Run. It's proximity to the hyperlane made it an ideal target for the Republic and the Confederacy alike, but...perhaps that was part of Sidious' plan. It certainly made it easy to spark violence here.

The government building was easy to find, as it sat in the middle of the city in a perfectly gargantuan ice-green crystal, the beautiful structure hollowed out to transform it into an elegant, elaborate building of office. He gained admittance easily, and with the assistance of a very helpful aide, Kenobi was granted admittance to the room where the leaders of the city met.

Kenobi grinned, lowering his hood when he walked in on a frustrated human arguing over something or another with the group of five _very_ wealthy humans, a Rodian, and Kerkoiden, all of them looking at the finely dressed man with disdain. He recognized the group's antagonist. It was Prince Bail Organa of Alderaan, and it seemed he was the Senator sent to offer aid. It was perfect.

The Sith Lord cleared his throat, and all eyes shifted to him, the ruling Council scoffing with superiority, but Organa's eyes widened in recognition. "Y-you're the Negotiator," the Prince breathed, and the others suddenly tensed, their presence in the Force slipping from pointless arrogance to distinct concern. Kenobi bowed deeply.

"Gentlemen! Good evening." He flexed his fingers by his side. "I thought we had an appointment, did you forget?" They all looked at each other, and Obi-Wan clicked his tongue, one hand to his cheek as he pointed to the Kerkoidan, his long mouth hanging slightly open under the Sith's gaze. "I spoke to _you_ about it, how could you forget?"

"I-I...apologize..." the creature said, bowing his head and trembling ever so slightly. Kenobi closed his eyes and crossed his arms, feeling the nervous looks of the Council, and the curious, questioning gaze of Senator Organa.

"It's _fine_ if you aren't committed to the Confederacy, but I came all this way from Raxus because _you_ wished to join us." The Council seemed to wither under the intense stare of the Negotiator, and Bail looked almost accusingly at the young, blond man dressed in black.

"Wait, this is the first I've heard that Christophsis-"

The words caught in his throat and his eyes widened as golden yellow eyes fell on him and a sweet, compelling voice gently purred, "Now, now, Senator. Please, have a seat, I'll be with you in a moment." Bail slowly sat, even though he did not want to. His body was moving on its own, and though he tried to speak to object, he found his mouth forcefully closed. Smiling gently, the Negotiator patted him on the cheek. "There's a good boy."

Kenobi looked around the room, carefully observing the seated men, quickly running through their minds to find one of them, a thin, gaunt human male, as the one that held the most sway, the most influence over the group. "You _must_ remember discussing this. Your fellow," he drawled, pointing at the Kerkoidan, "assured me that it was your idea, and you all agreed to it. I wouldn't be here otherwise."

The man began to talk, but he was swiftly silenced as memories of the event in question slowly filtered through his mind, memories he didn't know he had. He felt...dizzy, like he had too much to drink, and the entire room seemed to shift, the gold of the Negotiator's eyes like fixed pinpoints in his hazy vision. "I...remember, yes." He looked to his fellows and found them looking as dazed as he felt, the others slowly nodding and quietly agreeing. "Apologies, my Lord, we thought...the meeting was later."

"Oh!" Kenobi cried, biting his lip and looking at his datapad, quickly scrolling through the device before he found what he was looking for and laughed. "Oh, you are right! It wasn't supposed to be for another hour!" With a smirk, he slid the device across the table to the slightly swaying men. "But since I am here..."

Obi-Wan didn't need to finish. In turn, they all signed the Article of Succession, none of the men even looking at the device as they scrawled their names across its surface. Bail Organa looked on with wide eyes. He didn't understand what was happening, but something was _very_ wrong. He moved, bucking against the invisible restraints that held him as the Negotiator observed the datapad, smirking with satisfaction, and put it back into the folds of his robes after fiddling with it for a moment.

With a smile, Obi-Wan smoothly drawled, "All of you. Out." All the men in the room rose and began heading toward the door, the Sith going to sit in the largest chair at the table, leaning back and making himself as comfortable as he could. "Except for _you_ , Prince of Alderaan." Bail froze mid-step. "You stay." Against his will, the dark-haired man shuffled to a seat across from the man, sitting and looking away, and he could feel a weight lift off him, breathing deeply when his chest felt lighter.

They said nothing for a _very_ long time. Bail just looked at him, the mighty Negotiator, and tried to put together the things he had just seen. Nothing that had just happened made any sense at all. The greedy men he was trying to reason with seemed so certain that they could make the Republic and the Confederacy engage in a bidding war for their support, so they couldn't have made a deal like that for what seemed to be nothing...could they? He started to feel the beginnings of a headache forming behind his eyes. It had been a _long_ day.

"Padmé always spoke highly of you, Bail," Kenobi said softly, smiling when the man's dark eyes shot to him and narrowed.

"I think I've heard enough about you for a lifetime, _Kenobi_." The Sith Lord grinned, and it only served to further anger the Senator.

"I'm flattered you remember me."

"Don't be. I wouldn't have, but Padmé spent a great deal of time reminding me." Organa hissed, bringing his hand to his temple as it slowly throbbed with pain. The Negotiator leaned in toward him, golden eyes narrowing.

"There's so much anger in you," Kenobi drawled. "And all toward me. I've done nothing to earn this. So why?" The Senator said nothing, and Kenobi chuckled. " _Why_."

"B-because of Padmé," Organa said hesitantly, and he nearly bit his tongue. He _didn't_ want to say that, and certainly not to the former Jedi before him. So why did he?

"Your lover?"

Organa scoffed in disgust. " _Never_. Padmé is like a sister to me! And _you_..." He growled, fists balling as he tried to silence himself, but he could not.

"What has she told you about me?"

"Everything."

Kenobi smirked. "Oh? Did she tell you I was a Jedi?"

"Yes. Her Jedi protector. But she said you died." His eyes narrowed. "And then came back."

"From a certain point of view, yes." He smiled, increasing his pressure on Organa's mind and watched him wince, bringing both hands up to rub his temples. "But where is the _anger_ coming from?"

Organa shook his head, trying to clear it. "When you delivered your... _proposal_ ," he said, his voice shaking under the pain of his headache, "Padmé lost it. She confessed to me that she had loved you once."

Did she? Obi-Wan looked away, his mind mulling the information over. The look he got within Senator Amidala's mind was brief, cursory at best for fear of revealing himself to Yoda. But this...if this was true, his Master needed to know. Sidious was looking to discredit the Senator, since Amidala had been a constant thorn in his side. He had laid the groundwork with the meeting the other day, but it would not be enough. _This_ would be. An emotional connection to the Separatist's Negotiator would discredit her completely, at least for a time.

"And?" Kenobi smirked, watching as the man grew more and more angry. It was true that the man saw young Padmé as a sister, and now, faced with a man that the girl had expressed interest in, Organa reacted as any older, protective sibling would.

"I spent the last two days listening to her _pine_. I urged her not to go, but she had to see you. I hate seeing her like that, she-" Something flashed in Organa's dark eyes, and Kenobi grinned.

"You think I made her a woman." The Senator snarled, and Obi-Wan knew he hit the mark. "It was a very long time ago, _but_..." The Prince growled, rising from his seat in the heat of his anger, and Obi-Wan grinned, fingers splayed and forced the man back into his chair _hard._ "Now, now," the Sith drawled, rising from his seat and coming to stand before the Senator. "No need to be uncivil. I think you can be of use to me." He put a long finger on the man's forehead, smirking and golden eyes glinting. "Show me _everything_."

And then there was nothing but pain, the dull pulsing in his head becoming agonizing, so intense he had to shut his eyes. And then, the pain suddenly stopped, replaced by the feeling of cold, rushing water that seemed to flow easily through his head to chill his fevered brain. It was...refreshing, a great relief, and as his body relaxed, a warm, tingling feeling started in the very heart of him, spreading until his every nerve was sending jolts of euphoria through him. It...wasn't so bad. Desired, even, and though his thinking slowed, his vision becoming hazy, his hearing muffled, he welcomed the sensation.

The information wasn't much, but it was something Kenobi could use. He was right to have been so physical with Padmé, and he quietly congratulated himself on his parting words to the girl. Given the memories Bail was so thoughtfully sharing with him, it could very well set her into a frenzy, which had been the intent. He just didn't know _how_ successful it was shaping up to be. But there was little he could do about Padmé right now, just collect the Prince's memories of long, advising talks, watching the girl suffer with grief for a loss she never truly had, and recently go to him for advice, aching and lustful, when she discovered her Jedi protector had lived. Obi-Wan couldn't do anything with this information, but Sidious certainly could, and he had already sowed seeds of doubt in the Prince's mind in regards to his precious Padmé. It was enough.

"Bail," he purred, smirking in delight when unfocused eyes turned on him and narrowed slightly. Kenobi was in his mind, yes, but he was not an overwhelming presence. It wouldn't serve to destroy the Senator when Palpatine could use him. He just needed to... _alter_ a few things. "Remember for me, if you will, what happened here."

"You...you _made_ them sign the Articles of Succession. You must have..."

"I don't know what you're talking about," the Sith drawled, the Force behind his words, and Organa sucked in a sharp breath, his already unfocused eyes clouding over as Kenobi carefully altered the man's memory. It was an easy thing to do with those who were not Force sensitive, even if the effect was only temporary on the strong-willed and intelligent. It would be enough. "There was no treaty here."

"T-there...wait, I thought..."

"You were mistaken."

Organa shook his head, trying to clear the haze, but it only made it worse. "I was mistaken."

"But you weren't wrong about the planet needing relief. Those _awful_ Separatists have blockaded the planet. Aid will not come to you or your refugees." Kenobi smiled as the shadow of worry passed over the man's face. "They have brought an invasion force."

"W-we cannot stand for this!"

"No, you _can't_!" Kenobi cried mockingly, but the derisive tone was lost on the Prince. "The Republic can send you reinforcements, though. The Separatists have broken the cease-fire by invading an undeclared planet." The command was given, and Bail Organa rose from his seat and dashed out of the room, leaving Obi-Wan to drop back into his seat and grab his comlink. He stared at it for a long while. He wanted to contact his Master, but knew he could not. The channel was not nearly secure enough, and the man was most likely not able to take his call anyway. Sidious had warned him about the limited contact, but now, more than ever, Darth Lumis missed the presence of his Master.

Instead, he sent the call to the _Negotiator_ , a genuine smile on his lips when Asajj Ventress answered the call instead of one of the many command droids on the bridge. But Asajj didn't look happy.

" _Kenobi_..." she snarled, her pale eyes narrowing when the man just grinned wider. "You didn't put the Rancor away!"

"What? Yes I did." He didn't. Well, he _did_ , but he had left the largest one out. He liked that one best.

"No, _you didn't_!" she hissed, looking over her shoulder. "It was sleeping before, but it just woke up and it's _hungry_."

" _He_ , Asajj. Come now, he's not a droid..."

"It's starting to eat the Rippers you brought up from Felucia!"

That got his attention. "Well, _stop him, Asajj_! Sith Hells, you'd think that would go without saying! I need those things, they're going to eat the clones!"

She crossed her arms, her face expressionless. "And _how_ am I supposed to stop that thing?"

"If you kill my Rancor..."

" _Without_ killing it! Kenobi, I can't do what you do!"

"Of course you can, you're a _Nightsister_! Don't your people have a history of controlling the Rancor? I mean, they're _native_ to Dathomir!" He scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Honestly, have some respect for your history..."

" _I was a slave, Kenobi_! I didn't grow up among my people, this isn't in our genetics, we have to _learn_!"

"Well, what's wrong with you then?! You watched me tame them, you saw how to do it."

"...are you really comparing me to you, oh great and mighty Lord of the Sith?"

Kenobi groaned and rubbed his temples. "This is why I'll never have a student, you are all _far_ too dim-witted..."

"You'll never have an apprentice because you don't have students, you have _friends_." Kenobi looked up at the woman, her eyes narrowed, but a faint smile on her lips. "Really, what kind of Sith are you?"

"The best kind." He tapped his finger on the table. "I need you to contact the _Invincible_ and tell Admiral Trench to enforce the blockade and send his troops down to occupy the planet."

Asajj rolled her eyes. "I hate that spider..."

"As do I, which is why _you're_ doing it." Ventress uttered a string of quiet curses, and Kenobi laughed, leaning back in the chair. "I'll be up shortly to put the Rancor away, and then you're coming back down with me." A slight, cruel face graced his fine features. "Prepare for battle, Asajj. The Jedi are coming."


	26. The Invincible

The timing was _awful_. The Jedi Council had just come to call, many Masters of great power and renown were present to hear who had been elected to sit upon the Council in place of their fallen or departed comrades. They had only just gotten started when they were interrupted by a frantic Chancellor Palpatine, his thin, breathless wheeze informing them of the atrocity on Christophsis, the breaking of the temporary truce in light of the peace they were attempting to forge. And worse, Bail Organa, Prince of Alderaan, was trapped on the planet and barely making due under the vicious Separatist bombardments. The planet was blockaded, and there was no hope of breaking it without the support of the Republic Army. Obviously, this could not be allowed to stand. The Separatists were cruel, vicious, with no intent on seriously considering peace as an option. They needed to be stopped, and they needed the Jedi.

Quinlan and Qui-Gon quickly volunteered for the mission, grabbing their Padawans and leaving the chambers as quickly as they were able. The two of them stood no chance at being put on the Council, so their attendance was completely pointless, and neither cared much for formalities. Anakin was of a similar mind with his Master, but Ahsoka made her displeasure known. She hadn't spent much time with the Council, despite being close to Master Plo, and just being there was a great honor for her. She couldn't understand how her Master had been so eager to get out.

They headed directly to the shipyard, not bothering to stop by their rooms to pick anything up. Their lightsabers were always on hand, and they figured they needed little else, since the massive Star Destroyers they would be taking had everything they needed. The two massive ships, Qui-Gon's _Resolute_ and Quinlan's _Dauntless_ stood next to each other in the shipyard, thousands of clones marching in perfect order up the boarding ramps and into the hold of the ships while hundreds of droids were running final maintenance checks and loading the arsenal that would be needed for combat. Both ships were ready, and with a quick chat with a clone in orange streaked armor, Quinlan and his Padawan followed Jinn and Skywalker onto the _Resolute_.

It was not long after that the ships were on their way down the Corellian Run toward Christophsis, and Anakin sighed, looking around the bridge at the identical men that manned the controls, and the Jedi Master and Padawan that were gleefully spinning in circles on the command chairs. Anakin was glad to be out of the Temple, to be sure, but Quinlan Vos and Padawan Tano were taking it to a whole different level.

"You know, Snips," he drawled, and the little Togruta tensed, glaring at him. "This isn't a _field trip_. It's a battleground."

"It's a relief effort, Anakin," Qui-Gon said softly, the Master standing at the bridge with his hands clenched tightly behind his back as he gazed out the viewport. "We're here to bring the supplies that the Senator requested and then get him out of there. We can deal with the Separatists if-"

"We're going to clear them off the planet!" Quinlan cried, spinning in his chair and Qui-Gon hung his head. "They've broken the cease-fire, and it's not like we _wanted_ that peace deal. I mean, a _Sith_ made it! We're better off throwing it to the wind and letting darling Obi-Wan try again."

"Saving lives comes before destroying ships, Quinlan," Qui-Gon sighed. It was almost pointless to argue with the man, but, as the Senior Jedi, he felt it his duty. The two Padawans were reckless enough as it was.

Anakin sighed and looked at the radar readings. Three Republic cruisers laden with food and medical supplies flew beside the Star Destroyers in the hyperlane. Even after all that had transpired, even after the nasty business with the Sith, the Jedi, first and foremost, stood for peace and saving lives. He could feel his chest swell with pride for the order he served and took solace in the fact that this war would be fought primarily against mechanicals, and it felt good to know that he was on the side that was taking the least lives. After all, the Jedi fought to preserve life. The Sith fought to end it.

"How are we supposed to get past the blockade, Master?" Skywalker asked, coming to stand beside stoic Qui-Gon. A faint smile came to the old Master's face, small and slightly mischievous, and for a moment, the Jedi looked just as he did when he found Anakin ten long years ago.

"We may have a plan." Those dark blue eyes drifted to Anakin, and the Padawan grinned broadly. "We have a _stealth ship_ , Anakin. A prototype. And _you're_ going to fly it."

* * *

"I don't get it!" Ahsoka wailed, throwing her arms in the air as she paced in the tight corridor of the ship. "How come he gets to fly this thing?"

"I told you, Snips!" Anakin laughed, his hands running over the controls as he deftly powered the ship on, breathing as one with the thrum of the engines like he was born to it. "There isn't a pilot better than me. _Anywhere_."

"You are _so_ modest _._ " Ahsoka shrugged. "But, I suppose you must feel some kind of kinship with ships, Skyguy, since you're part machine yourself."

"That isn't funny, it's a _battle wound_. I'm a veteran and a survivor of _two_ Sith attacks!"

The Togruta chortled. "I thought they were mighty battles. He just attacked you now?"

"I was _ambushed_."

"You change this story all the time," she drawled, smirking as the other Padawan's hands tightly gripped the yoke as he lifted the ship into the air and engaged the stealth drive. "Master Quinlan never lost a hand, and he's been in lots of fights."

"Never with a Sith, Ahsoka," the Kiffar said from his seat behind the copilot's seat. The Togruta sniffled.

"Well, Master Qui-Gon fought two Sith, and he's still got all _his_ hands."

"Well Master Qui-Gon's just better than me, _ok_?!" Anakin jammed the controls forward and the ship sped away from the _Resolute_ toward the massive might of the Separatist blockade, the young Ahsoka nearly being flung back through the halls with the suddenness of it, but she managed to grab hold of the back of Quinlan's seat. The clone in the co-pilot's seat couldn't help but laugh, his blue trimmed armor distinguishing him from his millions of identical brothers. Anakin decided he liked this one.

They had left Qui-Gon behind on the _Resolute_. It's not that they wanted to, but the old Master had insisted they keep a Jedi commander in the air if it became necessary to engage with the Separatist fleet. As the stealth ship drew closer, it was becoming increasingly apparent that they would. The entire fleet was primed and ready for combat, and while they were not actively pursuing the nearby Republic ships, debris in the surrounding space indicated that they had opened fire earlier. The Jedi were uncertain if they were the first on the scene, but they suspected not.

The image of Qui-Gon appeared on the small holodisc that sat in the center of the control console, his arms crossed and face pensive. "Remember, Anakin," he said sternly, "our top priority is getting you through the blockade. There should be enough relief supplies on the ship to at least get Senator Organa through the day."

"Is this stealth thing going to work?" Anakin asked, and Qui-Gon shrugged.

"That's why you're the pilot. If anything goes wrong, I'm fairly certain you can still navigate through that mess. I have the fleet on standby to cover you."

"Mm, I wouldn't if I were you, Qui-Gon," Quinlan drawled, leaning out to look through the viewport as they quickly approached the Separatist blockade. "That dreadnaught over there is going to be a problem."

Qui-Gon frowned. "Why, do you know the ship?"

"No, but I know who she belongs to." He pointed at the markings on the massive ship as they flew closer, the two Padawans holding their breath as they came uncomfortably close to the ship's large, imposing broadside laser cannons. The ships did nothing. The Separatists couldn't see them. "That's the insignia of Admiral Trench."

"Never heard of him," Ahsoka muttered, but Anakin nodded.

"I have. I thought he died."

"Not yet..."

The stealth ship glided past the Separatist fleet, and soon enough, they were on the other side of the blockade. Anakin held his breath. He felt something in the Force, and his hands gripped the yoke tighter. Seconds later, the dreadnaught launched several small starfighters, accompanied by slightly larger vulture droids, the combat ready ships blazing toward them as full speed. Anakin didn't move the controls, despite protests from Quinlan and Ahsoka, the two Jedi looking nervously from the radar to the viewport. A moment later, the fighters shrieked past them, flying toward the planet down below.

"Master, they're attacking the planet," Anakin said, his chest tight as he quickly took inventory of his assets. "We must have troops on the ground, or they're trying to kill the Senator, or _something_."

Qui-Gon nodded. "We can begin an attack on the fleet, if you think that will stop the raids, but I'm reluctant to do so. I'm familiarizing myself with this Admiral Trench's history, and...well, it's not good. He's dangerous, and he's holding his position, and our fleet is much smaller. It seems like he's trying to goad us into action."

Anakin took a deep breath and closed his eyes, reaching out with the Force and feeling the thrum of the ship, the concern of the other Jedi, the fear of the Senator far down on the planet below. Something had to be done. "He's trying to lure us to attack by attacking the planet," Anakin muttered, wheeling the ship around pointing the thin nose at the _Invincible_. "Let's give him what he wants." He cut the hologram when it looked like Qui-Gon would object, and he could hear Quinlan behind him quietly telling his Padawan to fasten her safety restraints. "We're going to fire on that dreadnaught, Rex," Skywalker told the clone next to him, eyes narrowing in concentration.

"Sir," the clone said, apprehensive, "firing the weapons will take us out of stealth. It kills our advantage."

"I disagree." The clone looked back to General Vos, and the Kiffar nodded his head.

"Do as he says."

The clone sighed, prepping the system and readying the weapons. "I hope you know what you're doing, sir..."

"Yeah, me too." Without another word, Anakin fired, the ship's perfect stealth fading away to reveal the long needle shaped ship, the missiles seeking the vulture droids that were flying from the dreadnaught toward Christophsis. They hit their mark, the droid ships exploding in a burst of flames and shrapnel. They had the dreadnaught's attention, the massive ship opening fire on the little ship, and Anakin expertly navigated the crossing lasers, bringing the ship safely through the volley.

"Ready our flares, Rex, and get us back into stealth."

The clone nodded and didn't say a word, and Anakin smiled appreciatively. They were born and bred for battle, yes, and while they were made to follow the orders of their commanders, Skywalker was used to taking orders, not giving them. But Rex followed orders, and he did it quickly and well.

"Sir," Rex said sharply. "The dreadnaught is firing heat seeking missiles. Skywalker smiled. He _knew_ this would happen. He felt it.

"Get ready to fire the flares, Rex. How long before we're back into stealth?"

"Ten seconds, sir." Skywalker nodded, thrusting the acceleration forward, the long ship screeching as it tore through space, the missiles on their tail. Moments before the stealth drive engaged, Anakin told Rex to deploy the flares, and the ship went invisible, the dreadnaught's missiles seeking and destroying the super-heated flares that the clone had released. The ship rocked in space from the explosions, but they were not damaged.

Qui-Gon appeared on the holodisc, his noble face worried, his eyes frantic, and his breath ragged. "Anakin, _stop_! What are you doing?!"

"If they lose their fleet leadership, they will lose this battle," Anakin said, his teeth grit as he banked the ship around, a fair distance from the blockade. "This Trench guy is dangerous, right?"

"Extremely so, Anakin, _please_ , don't-"

"Then we want him focusing on us instead of the people on the planet, right?" He hissed as the dreadnaught fired on their last seen position, and Skywalker deftly avoided the lasers, the ship spinning and weaving out of the way and coming out of the volley unscathed.

"Sir," Rex said softly. "There's a message coming through on the open com channel." Anakin frowned. The only one that could possibly be using the open channel right now was someone in the Separatist fleets, since the Republic was using their own encrypted channel. It had to be Trench. The Padawan frowned. He was...not equipt to deal with it. He knew the Admiral would only be goading him, and Anakin knew himself, knew that he was impulsive enough to fall for the taunts. Master Yoda had been helping him with his reckless nature, but a few days wasn't enough to correct _all_ his bad habits.

"Ignore it, Rex. Master, did you get the message on the open com?"

Qui-Gon nodded. "It's Trench."

"What does he want?"

"To let you know that he knows you're a Jedi." Qui-Gon crossed his arms. "He says no clone can fly the way you can, which is how he knew."

Anakin chuckled. "Well, he's right about that."

"He says he's dealt with cloaked ships in the past, and he's going to deal with you now in the same manner. He's giving you a chance to retreat before-"

"No, no, stop, that's enough." Anakin frowned, his fingers drumming on the control console as he observed Trench's _Invincible_. "I don't need to hear his idiot taunting. Did he say anything else of note?" Qui-Gon shook his head. "...can you see if there's anything in our records about the cloaked ships he's destroyed in the past?"

The Master nodded. "Give me a moment, I'll see what I can find." The hologram cut, and Anakin sighed, running his hand over his face.

"Well, now what?" Ahsoka asked, leaning forward to look over his shoulder. Skywalker looked back at the girl to find her...concerned. He frowned. He'd only known Ahsoka for a few days, but the girl had never looked anything but smug. "He knows we're here, what's the plan?"

"I'll let you know when I have one," Anakin muttered, and the little Togruta's face dropped.

"You _don't_ have a plan?!"

"My Master always says that one must follow the will of the Force!" Anakin shrugged. "The Force _really_ wants me to take this ship down."

"...you're making that up, aren't you?"

Anakin grinned. "Absolutely."

The hologram of Qui-Gon came back, and all Jedi in the ship looked to his image. "He wasn't lying, Anakin. Cloaked or not, Trench found a way to destroy them using tracking torpedoes."

"But how..." Anakin sat back, removing his hands from the yoke and looking through the viewport at the dreadnaught before him. His attention was snapped back to his passengers when the Kiffar touched him on the shoulder, a lazy grin on his face.

"I know how he's doing it..." the Master purred, lightly tugging on Anakin's braid. "It's a trick of the trade among bounty hunters who carry cloaking devices with them." He tapped his wrist. "They track other's cloaking through the magnetic signature of their stealth device."

A slow smile spread over his face. "That's why you're the Master." He grabbed the yoke. "Got to go, Qui-Gon. Hold off any attack until we destroy Trench."

The Master hung his head. "For what it's worth, my reckless Padawan, may the Force be with you." The hologram cut again, and Anakin focused, his attention narrowing to the feel of his ship and the dreadnaught before him. This time, he had a plan, and while Anakin Skywalker was very good at improvising, he was downright dangerous when his scattered thoughts focused into a moving idea.

"Let's give him something to look at, Rex. Arm the torpedoes and prepare to disengage the cloaking deice." The clone nodded and did as he was told, flipping the necessary switches and arming the weapons, his hand on the stealth controls. When Skywalker gave the command, the ship reappeared and fired four more torpedoes, the projectiles screeching through space toward the dreadnaught. "Engage the cloaking device," Skywalker commanded, and the clone moved to do as he was told. "That should have given him something to lock on to."

"And...we _want_ that?" Ahsoka asked, and Anakin smirked when he felt fear and tension in the Padawan's voice.

"What's wrong, Snips? Real action a little too much for you."

"You can make fun of me when I lose a hand, Skyguy."

He laughed as he thrust the accelerator forward, flying full speed in a wide arch toward Christophsis and slowly circling back around to face the dreadnaught just as the four torpedoes struck the hull. "No thank you. I'll make fun of you now, if that's alright." Ahsoka grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest, but she said nothing.

As suspected, the dreadnaught launched it's weapons, lowering its shields as four proton torpedoes were fired at the cloaked ship. Anakin's eyes narrowed, reaching into the Force as he banked wide, the dangerous missiles narrowly missing the hull of the hidden ship as he sped past them toward the waiting dreadnaught, the locked on weapons following the ship like magnets. It was exactly what Skywalker had wanted, but he would have to be quick. The dreadnaught's shields were down, but it wouldn't stay that way.

"Rex, turn off the cloaking device and divert all power to the engines." Skywalker tightly grabbed the yoke and pushed the ship to max speed, feeling the additional thrust kick in when the stealth drive deactivated. With the torpedoes right on his tail and slowly gaining, he drove the ship as fast as he could right toward the dreadnaught _Invincible_. It was deadly silent in the cockpit, the other two Jedi and the clone commander tense and watching as Anakin worked. Maybe he wasn't the best Jedi. Hell, he wasn't even a good one, despite his tremendous power in the Force, but here, at the helm of a ship, Anakin Skywalker was home. He would not be bested in his element. Not today.

The dreadnaught quickly grew larger in the viewport, but Anakin stayed his course, feeling the others on the ship shift uncomfortably, their anxieties and concerns increasing as they drew perilously close to the massive Separatist ship. He waited until he could wait no longer, and then Skywalker pulled back the yoke as hard and as far as he could, and the needle-like ship jetted upwards, it's hull scraping against the dreadnaught and leaving a shower of sparks in its wake until it breached over the thick transparisteel of the bridge. Anakin leveled the ship off, flying low along it's length and not pulling up until he heard four deafening blasts as the _Invincible_ was struck with its own proton torpedoes, the ship erupting into flames as the impact and the vacuum of space destroyed it, breaking it apart as it drifted.

Skywalker grinned triumphantly as the cockpit erupted into Quinlan's helpless laughter, Rex's cheers of victory, and Ahsoka's quiet cries of relief. Anakin put the ship's navigation on, allowing the autopilot to bring them down to the planet, and he turned to the Padawan sitting behind him. "You alright, Snips?" She nodded, but didn't say a word. "I know it's scary, but-"

"I'm not afraid." Anakin raised an eyebrow, and the Togruta's blue eyes became indignant. "I'm _not_. I just..." She sighed. "I was... _wrong_. Ok? That was pretty good." She smirked. "For an amputee."

Anakin rolled his eyes, but smirked at the other Padawan. The hologram flashed back on to reveal a relieved Qui-Gon. "Nice work, Anakin." He frowned. " _Never_ do that again. I'm far too old to have you straining my heart like this!"

"Master, I had it under control!"

"You are reckless, and a menace, and you are absolute _garbage_ at following orders. You're turning out to be an awful soldier." Qui-Gon couldn't keep the faint smile off his lips. "I've called for reenforcements, they should be arriving shortly. We're beginning our attack on the remainder of the Separatist fleet so we can get our troops down on the ground."

Skywalker nodded. "Understood, Master. I'll get in contact with Senator Organa while we wait for you so we can deliver the relief supplies."

Quinlan climbed over the seat and settled himself in the lap of an _extremely_ uncomfortable Commander Rex, winking at the clone before turning his attention to the hologram. "I'm not waiting, Qui-Gon. When I hit the ground, I'm going to go out and scout the opposition. They were sending ships down to the surface, so they must have troops around."

"Understood. I'm getting reports about the fleet launching carrier ships now. I'm rerouting the _Dauntless_ to see if we can't cut off their reenforcements. Just be careful out there. We don't know what the Separatists have brought."

"Well," Quinlan drawled, "they probably brought _droids_."

"Don't take this lightly. You know what's on their side."

Master Vos was silent for a moment before he slowly nodded. "Yes, I know. I'll be careful." He reached over and shut off the connection and leaned back, his head resting on the blue and white helmet of the clone commander, the man shifting uncomfortably as the Master softly hushed him.

"Do you think there's going to be a battle on the planet, Master?" Ahsoka managed to ask between repressed giggles as Rex slowly wormed his way out of Quinlan's fierce grasp. Anakin was not so tactful. He was openly laughing as loudly as he could.

"Without question." The Master yawned as the clone broke free, losing his helmet in the process, which the Kiffar clutched in a tight grasp. Rex was flushing deeply, a frown on his stern face, and Quinlan yelped, throwing the helmet back at the clone when he looked at the man's face. "Sweet Force, _put it back on_!" The clone did so gladly, and the Padawans look at the Master silently. They didn't need to say anything, they knew the Master could feel them in the Force. Quinlan thrust his thumb at Rex. "He wasn't as cute as I hoped."

Anakin whistled. "This war is just going to be filled with ugly faces for you than, isn't it?" He leaned toward the clone. "No offense, Rex."

"Believe me, sir, none taken..."

Quinlan rolled his eyes. "He's not _that_ bad, I just forgot that he looks like that assassin asshole that was trying to kill your girlfriend, Anakin."

Skywalker stared wide-eyed at the Master as he begun to sweat, though he wasn't sure why. Ahsoka's helpless laughter wasn't helping much either. "She's _not_ my girlfriend..."

"Oh, right." Quinlan smacked his forehead. "Sorry, I forgot that the Senator was into Sith Lords these days."

Ahsoka Tano watched the following explosion of anger and tears and emotion with interest, and the only thing she could think of was how happy she was the ship was on autopilot. Anakin would have certainly crashed the ship in his rage if it was not.


	27. Trapping the Field

"The Jedi have enslaved you. Surely you must understand that." The clone was on his knees, groaning softly and shoulders slumped in submission. The man had offered next to no resistance at all, and Kenobi couldn't help but wonder if all clones were this easy to manipulate, or if it was just this clone in particular that was more open to influence. They were all made of the same template, but Obi-Wan understood that while the clones may have been the same physically, each clone held a different temperament. It was possible that this very sentiment lay just underneath the surface of this clone. It was possible that his treachery was assured, regardless of what the Sith did to him.

This clone lieutenant, Slick, he called himself, struggled briefly at the worming hands through his brain before the pressure eased, and he gasped, hands clutching at the hard, crystalline ground. Kenobi didn't need to compel him. Proud brown eyes looked at him defiantly, but underneath, there was interest. The man was listening.

"You were born and bred for a singular purpose. What do the Jedi care if you live or die, so long as you follow their orders. There will always be another one, just like you, to take your place." Those brown eyes narrowed in anger, and Kenobi extended his hand. "I can free you. Search yourself, find what you want, and you will have it and more."

The clone's square jaw clenched, those eyes hungry and eager, and the thin mouth only needed to say three words. "I want _freedom_."

"And you shall have it," Kenobi drawled as the clone tightly grasped his extended hand. "All you need to do is report Republic activities to me. Can you do that?" The clone nodded and rose to his feet.

"And you can get me out?"

"That and more, my friend. Just do as I say here on Christophsis, and when the battle is over..." Kenobi shrugged, an easy smile on his face. "I'll take you to Raxus, and you can do as you like." His golden eyes narrowed, his hand extended, and the clone's legs began to shake, giving out on him as he dropped back to his knees. "You already know what it's like to resist me. I suggest you don't." Slick closed his eyes, silently nodding, and Obi-Wan dove into the clone's mind.

He didn't _need_ to negotiate, of course. It would have been just as easy to compel the man to do exactly as he wished. However, the less he had to break someone, the more useful they were. Mindless slaves could only do so much, and he didn't think a mere clone could have the mental resistance to recover from a true mental intrusion. He'd have to test that. There would be plenty of clones on the planet soon enough.

There was little of worth in the clone's mind. However, he did find information on the Republic base of operations, a small command center that housed the platoon of clones that Slick commanded. They were sent here with Bail Organa to act as security for him, but Kenobi knew that their influence would soon expand. He had seen the explosions in the sky as the dreadnaught _Invincible_ was destroyed. He didn't care, of course. There would be many casualties in this war, and Admiral Trench was always just a pawn, and not a very useful one if he had the poor sense to die in his first battle of the war.

Slick shivered, his eyes shutting tight as he groaned, not in pain, but in mild discomfort. It wasn't more than pressure on his head, but it made it feel as if his brain was... _moving_. Wriggling and twisting as if there was something alive within him that cared nothing for his well-being as it moved and rearranged his thoughts and memories. His eyes fluttered open and he looked up at the man that stood before him, glowing golden eyes seeming to command complete obedience, and all thoughts of freedom left him. He wanted to serve this man. He _needed_ to. And then he was released, and the clone collapsed on the ground as if the invisible force holding him up had suddenly let go.

"I have what I need," the Sith Lord purred, activating the comlink on his wrist. "Your platoon will no doubt be looking for you. Return to them before they think something is wrong. Report all Republic plans to me, Slick. I want to know their plans, their movements, their commanders, _everything._ " The clone saluted, grabbing his discarded helmet from the ground before he ran off. The comlink beeped for a moment before scuffling could be heard on the other end. He didn't wait for the woman to answer.

"Ventress, do you see anything?"

"Republic transport ships. Lots of them."

"More than ours?" There was a groan from the other end, followed by silence as the com cut, and Kenobi closed his eyes, feeling the planet through the Force. There was no peace to be found in it, no calm serene that was so often present in the Force. The war had seen to that, the death and violence leaving it disturbed and turbulent and soaked in the Dark Side. He could feel the balance of the Force shifting toward the dark. The time of the Jedi was coming to an end. He could _feel_ it.

His comlink beeped, and he quickly answered. "Not more than ours, no," Ventress said swiftly, slightly out of breath. "We managed to get a good deal of our forces on the ground before the Republic got here."

"Who did they send to lead?"

"Whorm Loathsom." Kenobi groaned loudly, and he could hear Ventress chuckle on the other end. "He's well known as a successful military strategist throughout the Core, Kenobi. You don't have a reason to hate him."

"He's an _idiot_. We're going to lose this battle." Ventress had said something, but Kenobi stopped listening. The Force pulled at him, strong and insistent, one part in warning, and the other part gently taunting him. His golden eyes narrowed. The Jedi had landed. "Never mind that, Asajj, it may be worth it to lose this battle after all."

"... _what_. Kenobi, have you lost your mind!"

"Probably, yes." Kenobi smirked. The woman hadn't said anything, but he could almost feel her questioning, accusing stare from across the com. "I set things up with Senator Organa to make it bad for the Republic, no matter the outcome. A victory here may hurt the Separatists more than it helps them. It may be worth it to lose the planet in exchange for dividing the Senate further. And besides," he growled, "with Loathsom at the head of the army, we don't have a chance. There are Jedi here, Asajj. More than one."

"That's why we have you, isn't it?"

" _And_ you, my dear, yes, but that still leaves Loathsom at the head of the army while we're occupied. Just be prepared to leave, and quickly."

"This another one of your feelings, Kenobi?"

"Isn't it always. The Force has _always_ been my ally, and it won't fail me now. Stay where you are, I'll be with you in a moment." He cut the com and took a deep breath. It was quite a ways to the Separatist base, and the streets had been crawling with droids and clones as they fought in the empty streets. The Confederate controlled part of the city was not far behind him, but Kenobi opted to take the long way to the base of operations through the contested districts. He pulled his hood over his head and started a leisurely stroll through the streets, stopping only periodically when stray groups of clones ran into his view and, reaching through the Force, casually grabbed their minds and pulled _hard_ , smirking in satisfaction as the soldiers staggered and clutched their heads as free will left them.

By the time he arrived at the base, he was being followed by ten clones, and the droids guarding the compound all primed their weapons, pointing their lasers at the enthralled men, but with a casual wave of his hand, the mechanicals went flying down the street, clanging as they struck the ground and blasters firing in random directions in desperation. Kenobi approached the command droid with a smile and grabbed the thing around its neck with his hand. It didn't react at all. He _hated_ droids.

"I'm in your database, yes?" the Sith growled, and the droid was silent, it's processors whirring.

"Affirmative, Lord Lumis."

"If I have _one more_ droid weapon pointed at me, I'm going to destroy every single droid on the planet.

"Understood," cane the droll, monotonous voice. Kenobi stared at the command droid, its unmoving face seeming to stare at nothing at all, and he sighed, the clones behind him staggering as the tight Force grip on them eased.

"I was going to feed you boys to my Rancor," Kenobi muttered, watching as the dazed clones tried and failed to get their bearings and shake the haze from their minds. "But on reflection, I think I may keep you. _Something_ needs to replace these detestable droids..." He whistled, the clones' heads snapping in his direction, most just staring, but two of them struggled to raise their weapons, the barrel of their blasters weaving in the air as they attempted to aim at their hooded assailant. With a deep chuckle, Kenobi commanded them to their knees, and after a moment, even the ones that resisted fell to the ground, dropping their weapons shaking under the control of the Sith.

Ventress came off her perch at the top of the building when she saw Obi-Wan throw the sentry droids to the side, sighing as she stood and stretched and slowly made her way down to the ground level. When she sauntered out to stand beside the concentrating Kenobi, the clones had removed their helmet and were staring blankly at the floor. Three of them lay on the ground, eyes wide and blank and unseeing, their mouths hung open and drooling upon the ground. She wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Kenobi, why-" A long finger shot to her lips to silence her, the golden eyes closed in concentration, and Ventress stepped back, watching carefully as Obi-Wan worked.

To Ventress, it was... _fascinating_. Completely captivating to watch a being so strong in the Dark Side work, and Kenobi was the best she knew. His handsome face was calm, peaceful, almost like a Jedi that she knew he once was in the serenity of him. It was superficial, of course, and she could feel the Dark Side swirl around him, summoned by his compelling call to do as he commanded. Occasionally, the corner of his mouth would twitch, his closed eyelids gently flutter as he carefully commanded the Force to seize the clones in turn, the identical bodies shuddering and convulsing and groaning their submission as he handled them.

This wasn't the violent, gleefully reckless tearing that he had forced his Jedi captives to endure. This was...gentle. A near perfect approximation of the gentle caress that Ventress had seen between lovers, and she couldn't understand why the Sith was acting in this way. They were just clones, after all, a few among millions of identical brothers. Like the droid armies of the Confederacy, there would always be more clones for the Republic to send pointlessly to their deaths. The soldier Kenobi now handled suddenly cried out, and with a hiss, the Sith Lord recoiled, drawing back the Dark Side and allowing the dazed man a moment to breathe, and Ventress finally understood.

He was _experimenting_. The three that lay on the ground were merely the results of failed tests, and the others...whether they be lined up for testing, or already have come through successfully, she didn't know. What she _did_ know, however, was that the thing the Sith was trying to accomplish was...new. Different. An entirely separate thing from his usual domination. She caught him often with the holocron, his eyes closed and hardly breathing as the ancient language whispered to him through the Force in words that Ventress didn't understand. Perhaps this was the practice of the knowledge he had been gaining.

"I can make slaves," Kenobi finally whispered, responding to Ventress' unspoken questions, "but I need to make _soldiers_. Ones that can't return to the way they were."

"Don't your slaves obey your every command?" the woman asked, and the Sith nodded.

"They do, but a good soldier needs to have some level of free will to be successful. That's part of my problem with the droids. If I'm going to replace the droids on my ship with organics, than I need to make them mine while leaving them with the ability to think. The process is... _delicate_. Too much, and they become mindless, too little, and they don't belong to me."

"Can it be done?"

"Of course it can be done, don't insult me." He lifted his hand, and the seven men rose, their eyes sharp, focused, and Kenobi grinned. "It just takes longer."

Ventress pointed to the men on the ground. "And them?"

"...failures. Leave them."

"Are they dead?"

"No, but when the Republic gets here, I want them to find them." He took a deep breath and examined his men. "I sent a spy into the Republic camp. We should be hearing back from him soon enough."

"Is he reliable?" Kenobi nodded, but said nothing. "...when will he contact us?"

"Soon." He shrugged when the woman frowned at his noncommital answer. "When he has information to give, I presume."

Ventress growled and began to pace. "And what will we do while we wait, hmm? I _hate_ waiting for them to come to us."

The long-fingered hand of the Sith shot out, grabbing her around her upper arm, stopping her vicious pacing. "We, Asajj," Kenobi purred, lightly running his fingers down her arm, "are going to be _patient_. We have a trap set. Let them walk into it."

* * *

 

True to his word, Quinlan took off as soon as they landed. He promised to return before nightfall, and, despite Ahsoka's pleading, he commanded that she stay behind to protect Anakin. Skywalker, after all, was handicapped. With a wink to Skywalker, the Kiffar took off, leaving a pouting Togruta with the older Padawan.

"He should have taken me with him," she grumbled, arms crossed as she followed Skywalker through the fortified refugee encampment, the clones stationed on the ground quickly unloading the ship.

"He's worried about you," Anakin said softly. "Scouting ahead is _very_ dangerous. Master Qui-Gon says it's some of the most dangerous work a Jedi can do, since to do it well, you have to be alone. And Master Quinlan is supposed to be the best. You'd just slow him down."

"How can I learn if I don't go with him?!"

Anakin chuckled. "You'll learn. I bet he'll take you on his next scouting excursion. I mean, he _must_ have chosen you for a reason." Before the outraged girl could respond, Skywalker cut in with, "Besides, Master Qui-Gon did all the scouting on his mission to Mandalore and always left his old Padawan behind. _Always_."

"...did he leave you behind?"

"Um..." Anakin bit his lip, stopping as he considered the question and ran a hand through his hair. It was starting to get long and unkept, and he'd need to cut it soon, but...well, he _liked_ it longer. "I'm a...special case. He doesn't leave me alone much."

"What makes you so special..."

The knee-jerk response was to tell her that he was supposed to be _great_ , that his Force potential was so great, even the Council was willing to overlook his age so he could be trained. But...his time in the Temple had showed him otherwise. He spent a great deal of time with the younger Barriss, who was careful and diligent, and her focus was always greater than his, her connection more serene, more patient than his own. He had talent, yes, but Qui-Gon had taught him that talent meant nothing if it wasn't properly applied.

He decided on the simple, "I was too old to train, that's all. They had to make an exception for me."

"Why would they do that?"

Anakin shrugged. "I don't know. They listen to Master Qui-Gon sometimes." He watched the other Padawan consider this, nodding slowly, but he could see the answer wasn't satisfactory to her, though she quickly brushed it away, resolved to save the question for when the Masters returned. They continued walking, both Padawans silent, and Anakin stopped suddenly when Ahsoka grabbed him, pointing to a small tent leaned up against one of the crystals rising out of the ground.

"Doesn't that look like the Senator to you?"

Skywalker squinted, looking where she was pointing, and after a moment, he nodded. "Yeah, that's him. Well done, Snips!" She grinned, and the two Padawans ran over to the tent, slowing and trying to appear dignified like their Masters as they stepped up to the table the Senator was leaning over. Organa didn't look up, but the clone that was with him at the table did, saluting when he noticed the lightsabers at their hips.

"Generals, we're glad you're here," the clone said, but Anakin held up a hand and shook his head.

"We aren't Generals. Our Masters are elsewhere. This is Ahsoka Tano, and I'm Anakin Skywalker. We're here to help."

The clone nodded, and, slowly, Bail Organa looked up from the table, his eyes sunken with dark rings under them, and both Padawans winced as they felt pain and confusion coming off the Senator. "I've heard your name, Skywalker," the Prince mumbled. "From Padmé. I hear you were part of her protection detail." He winced at that, hand shooting to his head, and both Jedi rushed to him, hands on his back and giving each other worried looks. Something was _very_ wrong.

"Are you alright, Senator Organa?" Anakin asked softly, and the man nodded.

"Yes..." He paused and shook his head. "No. I don't know, I..." His strong hands gripped the table. "Everything's fuzzy, I don't..."

"Was he drugged?" Ahsoka whispered, and Skywalker shook his head.

"I don't think so, Snips. Senator, can you tell us what happened?"

Bail nodded slowly, closing his eyes and concentrating, and Anakin could feel the Prince become frustrated as his memory failed him. The very Force around him felt... _wrong_. "I was trying to work out a deal with the Retail Caucus. They run things here in the city, but it was going nowhere." He bit his lip. "Then...everything's fuzzy after that. I don't remember why I left." He took in a deep breath and held it for a long while, exhaling harshly when he could hold his breath no longer. "I don't remember the rest. But I do remember the Negotiator."

" _What_?" Ahsoka cried. "The Negotiator is _here_? _Right now_?!"

Bail shook his head. "I don't know. He was when I saw him...I-I don't remember how long ago it was. It could have been yesterday. Or the day before. I..."

"It's alright, Senator, don't worry about it. You just relax, the Jedi are going to take care of this." He strode off, Ahsoka close on his heels, and when they were a fair distance away from any prying ears, Anakin swiftly said, "We need to contact our Masters. They need to know they're in danger."

"Master Quinlan is out there!"

"I know. Trust in your Master, Ahsoka, he'll be fine. I mean, he spent a year hunting the Sith, right? This is a normal thing for him, he's basically an expert."

"Yeah, but wasn't he hunting Sith _with_ the Sith he's currently hunting?"

"...I'll admit it's a little bit of a mess." Anakin activated the com on his wrist, turning away from Ahsoka as the Togruta did the same. He was patched through for just a moment before static overtook the sounds on the other end, and then there was silence. "I can't get through to Master Qui-Gon," he said softly, checking the device and finding it to be perfectly functioning. The Separatists must have been blocking communications.

"I can't reach Master Quinlan either." Ahsoka sighed. "What do we do?"

"Well...Master Qui-Gon would advise patience and prudence. We should check around the base here to make sure the clones have what they need."

"...I thought we could think of an attack plan." Skywalker slowly grinned, looking at the mischievously smiling Togruta.

"Oh, I think I'm going to like you, Snips." They kneeled down together, huddling close like they were discussing a secret, Ahsoka using a stick to draw in the thin layer of dust on the ground. Skywalker didn't want to admit it, but the girl was smart, She had studied the maps of the city in great detail and committed much of it to memory, her swift, rudimentary drawing serving its purpose to show all the places they could bring troops, all the best hiding spots, all the ways to the towering Separatist headquarters. The two Padawans managed to come up with a plan together, one that involved luring out and ambushing the Separatist forces from an easily defendable spot in a business center in one of the city's main plazas while a larger force snuck around to attack the Separatist Base. With any luck, the diversion would serve its purpose, and the clones could trap the droids and take the base.

It was, all in all, a very good plan.

"Do you think it will work?" the Togruta asked quietly, and Skywalker nodded, looking over the drawing in the dust that was covered in lines and arrows indicating troop movement.

"I think so, yeah. We'll have to run this by the clone commanders. We may have to wait for reenforcements, but...well, the plan might work. We should discuss this with Rex, I _think_ he's sort of a big deal in Master Qui-Gon's division."

Grinning at each other like absolute idiots, the two Padawans stood and dusted themselves off and ran for the ship where the clones were hard at work. They found Rex quickly. They may have been identical, but the clones distinguished themselves by the markings on their armor, the cut of their hair, and while Rex was unremarkable with his helmet off, he was easy to find when the helmet was on, the distinctive blue markings making him stand apart from his brothers. The clone stood at attention when the Jedi approached.

"Commander Skywalker, Commander Tano," he said sharply. "Has General Vos returned?"

Ahsoka shook her head. "Not yet. He said he'd be back by nightfall." The clone simply nodded. "So...since we're the commanding officers until my Master gets back...we thought of a battle plan."

Rex didn't move for a moment, and then he slowly removed his helmet, staring at the girl in confusion and disbelief. "... _you_ thought of a plan?"

"Anakin and I did, yeah."

"We wanted to run it by you," Skywalker said quickly when the clone commander seemed to nearly choke. "Maybe not to do it now, but when the Generals return. We want to strike at these guys hard, if we can, and that means going in quickly."

Rex nodded. He didn't really know these Jedi, not yet, and he had come to understand that experience beat all else on the battlefield, and these Jedi had none. They weren't like the Generals. Rex looked at the Generals and saw a wealth of experience that could only come from the heat of battle. General Qui-Gon was getting old, but every clone and the division respected him as a wise and tested leader. But these two...they were _children_. Skywalker had impressed him during the attack on the _Invincible_ , but being able to pilot a ship wasn't the same thing as being able to come up with a battle strategy.

Still, he listened to the two, the younger Togruta doing most of the talking as she detailed the nature of the trap they planned to set. Loathe as he was to admit it, the plan was...good. Brilliant, even. It played to the strength of the clones and the lack of critical thinking that was the droid's greatest weakness. It required a larger force than what they had, but it seemed that the two younger Jedi were reluctant to act without both Masters present. Once again, this impressed the clone. Their eagerness had painted them as reckless and hungry for battle, but when it mattered, the two young Jedi showed prudence. The entire plan had one major problem, though.

"And you're _sure_ the Senator said the Negotiator was here?"

Anakin nodded. "He's here. I don't sense him, but that seems to be pretty normal for him."

"We were told that he was one of you."

Anakin scoffed. "He was _once_ a Jedi, yes, but he isn't one of us. And he's _very_ dangerous. If you see him, you and your troops are to withdraw immediately. Leave him for us."

Even Ahsoka seemed shocked by this. "Hey, Skyguy," she said softly. "We're just Padawans...and he cut your arm off _twice_. How can we stand against him?"

"We won't be alone, Ahsoka, we'll have our Masters. And we don't even know that he's here. Maybe four of us will scare him off, Master Yoda seems to think he's cautious."

"Master Quinlan says he's _very_ smart." Anakin nodded slowly. "Will he know we're setting a trap?"

"I don't know, Ahsoka. But we have to try."


	28. The Battle of Christophsis

It took a long time, the strategy meeting not ending until well into the night, but eventually, the clone leadership and the Jedi Masters managed to fine tune the plan that Anakin and Ahsoka had devised. Quinlan appreciated the boldness of it, and he was always one to spring a trap, if he could. His scouting behind the enemy lines allowed him to happen upon a much larger force than they anticipated, but he saw no sign of the Sith Lord that Organa had spoken of. Adjusting the plan to deal with the superior numbers of the droids, the Jedi readied themselves and their clones for battle the next day.

The clones in the streets would be commanded by Anakin and Qui-Gon, the Master and Padawan leading the diversion that would allow Quinlan and Ahsoka to infiltrate and take the Separatist headquarters when the majority of their forces were fighting the Republic army in the streets. They would be able to draw the droids on to the long boulevard that led up to the massive building that served as the Separatist base, and when the droids were engaged, a secondary force of clones would circle around to cut off their retreat, preventing the droids from returning to aid the base, and allowing the clones to assist Quinlan and Ahsoka, if the need arose.

And early the next morning, they sprung the trap, sending their clones in to ferociously attack the business center where Quinlan had discovered the majority of their troops stationed. The response was immediate and ferocious, the garrison of droids activating and leaving the center in tight formation, only to find the entry rigged to explode.

As the blasts went off, the four Jedi crouched down, looking over the scene from a defended location on the roof of one of the many buildings that lined the boulevard. Anakin rolled his shoulders, watching as smoke rose a little distance away. The droids would be on them soon.

"Remember," Qui-Gon said softly, "if _anything_ goes wrong, you are to contact me immediately, and we'll be with you. Anakin and I will be on the rear guard, so we should get to you quickly."

"Yeah, yeah, I remember the plan..." Quinlan drawled. "Relax, Qui-Gon. Nothing will go wrong."

"I'm not so sure. I feel..." He shook his head. "The Force is muddled and clouded, I can't see anything, but something doesn't feel right here. Just be careful."

"Qui-Gon," the Kiffar gently admonished, a carefree smirk on his face, "when have you ever known me to be anything but careful?"

"Do I need to make you a list..."

"You can after we win this thing." Master Vos nudged his Padawan. "Come on, Ahsoka." The Togruta nodded, and with a quick touch to Anakin's hand, she bid him good luck and went with her Master, the two running low and silent over the rooftops until they disappeared from view behind a towering green crystal that supported several homes below.

"Will they be alright?" Anakin asked softly, and the Master just closed his eyes.

"Quinlan is a rare talent. If there's anything there, he will know. And..." He sighed, rubbing his temple with his finger. "There's a very real possibility Obi-Wan won't try to kill him. When we saw him on Mandalore, he was... _cordial_ with Luminara."

"Master Yoda was there."

"Yes, but..." Qui-Gon sighed heavily. "It's a feeling I got from him. He _hates_ you and me, but there was something else there when he looked at Luminara, and he was even closer to Quinlan. If he's here, Obi-Wan won't kill him, I'm sure of it." His breath hitched, his blue eyes narrowing slightly. "There are things worse than death, though."

"We should have gone with them," Anakin whispered, the large, comforting hand of his Master resting on his shoulder.

"We need to trust in Quinlan. Don't forget, Anakin, there is a battle here as well. If Obi-Wan is here, than he may be on the front lines instead of staying back in the base, and if that's the case and there are no Jedi here, our forces will be crushed. We need to stay."

Skywalker nodded, observing the streets, listening to the sounds of firing blasters and lasers striking stone and metal, the clamor coming closer every moment. He watched clones firing down at droids from the rooftops, saw them running through the streets and ducking into smaller alleyways that shot off from the main roads, helmeted heads ducked as their brothers covered them. Soon, it would be their turn.

Qui-Gon's hand lightly touched Skywalker's, and the Padawan turned attentive blue eyes to his Master's noble face. "Change of plans," he muttered quickly. "We're going to draw them out faster. You're going down to the front line, and I will wait here until we're ready to block them in."

A slow smile spread across Anakin's face. "You trust me to do this?"

"You're younger than me, Anakin, by a great deal. If there's anything I've learned from my fight against the Sith, it's that I don't have the stamina I used to. I've seen you fight, though, and you're better than me on this count." He pointed to the street below as a group of clones ran by to join the larger part of their forces at the end of the long, wide boulevard. "Pick a position and hold it. The troops will cover you, but they won't be able to do it well if you disappear into the thick of it. Remain mindful, and remain cautious. Something's here that we're missing."

"I feel it too." With a cocky smirk on his lips, Anakin stood up and bowed to the older man. "Happy hunting, Master!"

"This isn't a game, Anakin!" Qui-Gon shouted, but he was too late. Anakin had jumped off the roof and landed easily on his feet on the streets below, igniting his blue lightsaber and twirling it around his hand just as the battle droids came into view. With a grin, Anakin assumed Soresu's defensive posture when the droids stopped, unmoving for a moment, before charging at the Jedi at full speed, blasters firing as the Jedi easily deflected the bolts of energy back at the wave of mechanicals. It was true that his defense was weak at best, but Barriss had been privately tutoring him in the form. He knew he would never be good at it, but the younger girl had brought him from hopeless to passable easily enough. She was a skilled teacher, like her Master, and Anakin, when determined, was an apt and attentive student.

Upon seeing the change in plans, Rex waved with his hand at his company, and the clones rushed forward, setting up a temporary barricade just behind the Jedi and covering him as best as they could, though the droids were pressing their advance, despite how many were falling. They simply stepped on or over the destroyed droids, leaving the metal twisted and sparking as they were carelessly destroyed, and as they fell, more and more of the mechanicals began tripping over the debris.

"Sir!" Rex shouted, coming to stand beside the Jedi and firing into the army before them, the Jedi's lightsaber easily deflecting every shot toward the two. "Where is the General?"

"Up there," Anakin said softly, pointing up with his hand at the roof from where he dropped and, with a slow, easy exhale, he brought his hand down, fingers splayed as the Force crashed into the advancing front line of the droid's army, the overwhelming power of it sending the mechanicals flying backwards to disrupt the next several lines behind them.

"Has the plan changed?" Rex lobbed a grenade over his head, the magnetic device landing in the scrambling pile of entangled droids on the ground, and turning away as it detonated, sending pieces and parts into the air.

"Only slightly," He grinned at the clone and pointed to the mess in the boulevard. "I think this tactic is working. Their broken units are creating a barricade for us." Anakin was grinning broadly until three large droid carriers arrived, easily ploughing through the heaps of twisted, sparking metal and letting more droids loose.

"...sir?" Rex said next to him.

"Hmm?"

"You _never_ say things are working until the battle is over."

"Yeah, I'm beginning to realize that." He and Rex fell back to the clone's position behind their makeshift barricade, Skywalker standing and deflecting as many shots as he could, and through the flying lasers and the dust, he watched his Master, blue lightsaber blazing, drop down behind the droid forces, hundreds of clones rushing in to cut off the droid retreat. Within moments, the droids were fighting a two front battle, and they were being destroyed, even when they received additional troops that were dropped from the air. The battle was becoming a route. With their victory assured, Anakin rushed into the fray, swinging his lightsaber and cutting down droids with glee as he cut a path toward his Master.

* * *

"This seems like a trap, Master."

Quinlan scoffed. " _Of course_ it's a trap, my young Padawan. I mean, just look at it!" He threw his arms up into the air, indicating to the large, crystalline structure that the Separatists have taken as their base of operations. It was magnificent, and _completely_ unguarded. "No guards? No attempt to keep us out?" he drawled as he waved his hand, the large doors groaning open. "They even left the door open for us! How _careless_ of them." He sauntered toward the door, whistling softly and kicking a rock as he went when Ahsoka's little hand reached out and grabbed his arm.

"Shouldn't we be careful?"

"We _are_ being careful! I mean, we know it's a trap." He paused, thinking for a moment before he activated his comlink. "Qui-Gon, we have a situation I don't like."

Static crackled for a moment before the Master said quietly, "Have you seen the Sith?"

"Not yet. The base is completely undefended."

"...that's not good." The com crackled with the sound of blaster fire. "The droids are here in force. Based on your surveillance, this is the bulk of the force within the city, but a great deal is not accounted for. Be cautious, Quinlan. If there isn't anything there, than they're probably laying in wait, or there's a Sith in the building."

"Have you cut the droids off yet?"

"Not yet."

Quinlan sighed. "Ahsoka and I are going in. If we find anything, I'll let you know."

"May the Force be with you, my friend." The com cut off, and the Kiffar passed through the doors, his Padawan following closely behind, her lightsaber clutched in her hand. The base was enormous, the stone making their footsteps echo loudly, and Master Vos stopped.

"Close your eyes, Ahsoka." The girl was wary, but she did as her Master said.

"What exactly are we doing?" she whispered, and the Master laid a hand on her shoulder.

"Listen to all the noise you're making," he said right in Ahsoka's auditory channel and the Togruta shivered, his breath on her lekku very hot in contrast to the cool of the building. "You're going to meditate. Lose yourself in the Force, become one with it, and when you are focused, you will use the Force to silence the sound of your steps."

She looked at him for a moment, blue eyes wide, but the Master's face was soft, his eyes sincere. She didn't believe such a thing could be done. Ahsoka nodded, closing her eyes and slipping into meditation while the Kiffar paced the room, laying his hand on everything of significance, the ghostly touch of the Force bringing him visions of the recent past, of moments both significant and not.

He saw Bail Organa, frustrated and frantic as he tried to see the city's oligarchical leaders. He saw throngs of busy businessmen rushing about, making deals and negotiations for the shipment of the raw materials that came from the mines. He saw droids, thousands of them as they cleared out the building, forcing workers from their offices as they established their base. And he saw a hooded figure in a dark gray cloak, slight of build and strong in the Force.

Quinlan activated the comlink, and it took much longer for Qui-Gon to answer. When he finally did, the man was breathing heavily, the sounds of combat much closer than before. "Qui-Gon, I don't sense Obi-Wan here."

The aging human groaned on the other end, his lightsaber thrumming in the air, clearly held close to the com. "If your abilities can't pick him up, than he's probably not here."

"I disagree, it means he's _absolutely_ here." There was nothing on the other end but the hum of lightsabers and the distant, gleeful laughing of Anakin Skywalker as he counted, and the Kiffar sighed. "When he and I were exploring Sith Space, we felt nothing out there either. Obi-Wan was certain that the Sith knew of our presence and were concealing themselves. I bet he's doing that now."

"...Master Yoda said he was hiding his presence in the Force. You're right. Be careful, Quinlan. Everything we know about the Negotiator shows he's never alone. On Kabal he was with Grievous, on Geonosis he was with Dooku, and on Mandalore he traveled with another Dark Sider. Ventress, he called her."

Quinlan nodded. "I saw another, yes. That must be her. How's the battle?"

The sound of lightsabers meeting metal and deflecting energy could be heard, before Qui-Gon panted, "Fine, fine. Hectic, but we are doing well. Droid casualties are high. They've called in reenforcements, but the clones are positioned well, and Anakin-" There was silence, followed by Qui-Gon Jinn screaming, " _Anakin, don't you dare try to steal that ship_!" And then the com cut, leaving Quinlan to chuckle softly, his brown eyes drifting to Ahsoka, who was standing on her feet and testing her newfound abilities, stepping carefully and hearing no footfall, no echo, and she grinned widely at her Master.

"Keep your focus, or you'll lose it," Quinlan drawled, and the Togruta's eyes narrowed in focus, a pout on her lips, and the Kiffar smiled slightly, beaconing her to follow him as they silently made their way up the towering structure.

There was nothing. No droids, no people, no Sith Lords, but as they climbed higher, Quinlan could feel the stirring of the Dark Side, cold and oppressive and much like the feelings he had felt so long ago on the Sith Worlds he had visited with Kenobi. They had entered a large library, the room lit only by a small window on the far wall, and the Kiffar tensed as he entered. Something was there.

"Master?" Ahsoka asked, rubbing her arms as she shivered. "It feels different here, it's-"

He saw her before he felt her, and Quinlan roughly grabbed his Padawan by the arm and threw her to the side just as a red lightsaber slashed at the spot the Togruta previously occupied, the Kiffar's lightsaber flying to his hand and igniting the green blade as a second red saber swung around, the Master swiftly blocking it and returning with his own ferocious offense. The cloaked figure staggered back, growling deeply as if she were unprepared for such an aggressive attack, and she broke off from the Jedi, twin sabers held up crossed before her.

The lithe, athletic warrior threw off the gray cloak, shedding the heavy garment to increase her mobility, and the Kiffar's brown, interested eyes roved over the long, thin limbs, the taunt, strong body, the shorn head and stark, angular face, and he whistled, winking at the woman.

"Well, _hello_..." he drawled, casually flipping his lightsaber around his hand, an easy smirk on his lips as the pale-eyed woman's face sneered in disgust. "I didn't know the Sith recruited beautiful women."

" _You_ must be Quinlan Vos," she sneered, and the Kiffar grinned in delight.

"Oh, my reputation precedes me?! Sweet Force, I've got to tell Qui-Gon! Hold on, he's _never_ going to believe this!" The Kiffar activated his com, keeping his saber raised toward Ventress and putting himself between his Padawan and the Dark Sider. Ahsoka was on her feet, her own green saber lit, but she warily stayed back, ready to assist her Master, but she could sense the strength of the other woman.

There was static on the other side, and Ventress couldn't wait, with a vicious snarl, she launched herself at the Jedi, red sabers blazing through the air and moving swiftly and athletically, jumping over the Master to engage the Padawan, but the little Togruta was fast, much faster than anticipated, and far, _far_ more aggressive than she could have imagined. But Ventress was better, and she targeted the young Jedi.

"Qui-Gon!" Master Vos said, gripping his saber in both hands and coming quickly between the Dark Sider and his Padawan, allowing the girl to get behind Ventress and attack, forcing the gray-skinned, snarling woman to divide her attentions. "You won't believe what Ahsoka and I found!"

"What is it," the Master on the con responded, his voice worried, and Quinlan cut low, forcing Ventress to jump to avoid the slash, and he angled the blade up high, the tip of his blade touching the woman's leg, and the Nightsister shrieked with rage, the Dark Side swelling around them.

"I found the woman you were looking for and _she_ knows who I am!" Quinlan winked at the raging woman as he spun around, Ahsoka and him moving in perfect tandem as they both struck out against Ventress, their green blades meeting her defensive red and pressing against her, the woman's teeth grit in rage and strain as she fought to keep the deadly sabers from her. "We're going on a date right after the Republic liberates Christophsis!"

"Quinlan, _focus_!" Qui-Gon growled from the other side of the com.

"I am!" Ventress had swiftly put her foot into Ahsoka's gut, sending the Padawan across the room to the ground, and Ventress focused on the Master, a flurry of vicious slashes and stabs raining down on him that he only just barely managed to defend against. He cut the com, his eyes narrowing as he carefully studied her movements. If Obi-Wan had trained this woman, than the lost Jedi had changed more than the Kiffar was willing to admit. The woman's style was more in line with form two, a style that Count Dooku had been known for. He frowned, easing into a more aggressive push when Ahsoka rejoined the fray. If this woman was trained by Dooku, than what _was_ she? Was she a Sith in training? Was she to be used to help take down the current Lord of the Sith? The Kiffar's eyes narrowed; he supposed it didn't matter. There would be lots of time to ask when he was on their date that evening. Republic prison cells were _so_ romantic.

The longer they fought, the better grasp Quinlan had of his opponent, and as they went on, she got more and more angry, making her strikes faster, harder, more ferocious, but she was also beginning to make mistakes, leave openings. Ahsoka Tano, her Force connection to her Master wide open, picked up on exactly what he was seeing, and suddenly, the two Jedi moved as a single being. The Kiffar's sharp, tracker's eyes saw the opening, and the Togruta acted, the same weakness shown to her through the Force, and her green saber slipped right into the small opening, the tip of the blade sliding effortlessly into the woman's side, deep enough to wound, but not enough to kill.

The Nightsister hissed, dropping one blade and swiftly ducking out of the way as the Jedi pressed their advantage, defending and dodging with one blade for only a moment before she called her lost saber to her hand, and the battle continued, the pain feeding Ventress' anger.

All three combatants stopped suddenly, disengaging quickly as the Kiffar grabbed his Padawan and pulled her behind him, his green lightsaber held up before him and dark eyes roaming the room, keeping a watch on Ventress as she dropped to one knee, her sabers deactivating when cold, amused laughter echoed through the room. Quinlan tensed, holding his breath as his eyes focused on the man in a fine black tunic enter the room, his yellow eyes glowing in the shadows of his face.

"Quinlan Vos..." Obi-Wan purred, his hand held at his side calling his saber to his open palm from his belt.

The Kiffar winked. "Hey there, sexy..."

Kenobi clicked his tongue. "Now, now, Quin, you can't go flirt with me after you've got plans with my friend Ventress." He brought his hand up, shielding his face from the Nightsister's view and pointed at her. "She gets _jealous_."

"Oh, _baby_ , you know you're the only one for me..."Quinlan drawled, taking a few steps toward the Sith, his blade pointed at the man's chest and Ahsoka secured safely behind him. "But I hear you've taken up with another lover."

"Mm, have I?"

"And at the _height_ of our relationship!" the Kiffar cried, throwing his arm over his face dramatically, and the Sith Lord chuckled. Ahsoka and Ventress, for a moment, locked eyes, and both women shrugged. "How was I supposed to know you were flirting with the Dark Side. And _right_ under my nose." Quinlan's eyes narrowed as Obi-Wan smirked, bringing his saber up and adjusting something on the hilt.

"Sweetheart, it was barely a secret. Shame on you for not noticing."

"Yeah, shame on me..." He looked at his old friend, _really_ looked at him, and Quinlan found Obi-Wan almost exactly the same as when he last saw him. He was relaxed, his entire being intelligent and amused, his face affected with an easy smirk, but those golden eyes were _burning_ with unrestrained passion. Once, long ago, those eyes had been blue, guarded, care and feeling seeming to hide behind a wall of Jedi ice, but _this_ was fire. This was passion, unguarded and wild and free, and it made his old friend powerful. Quinlan tightened his grasp on the saber. Qui-Gon had been right. He couldn't feel the Sith Lord in the Force.

The com on his wrist beeped, and the Kiffar absently answered it. "Quinlan, what's happening?" Qui-Gon's frantic voice buzzed over the com, and the Kiffar watched carefully as the amusement dropped from Obi-Wan's face, only to be replaced by an impassive, expressionless mask.

"Company, that's all," he said softly, his voice choking slightly before he shook his head and cleared his throat. "Catching up with an old friend."

"Obi-Wan..." The com crackled, filled with the sounds of lightsabers and blasters, and the Sith's eye twitched, the corner of his mouth turning up into a repressed, vicious snarl. "Stay there and be careful, Quinlan, I'm on my way." The com went silent, and nobody moved.

"Ventress," Obi-Wan said slowly, and the woman rose to her feet, cautiously keeping an eye on the Jedi as she walked toward the Sith. "Jinn and Skywalker are on the way. Make certain they don't make it here. When I com you, go and ready our ship." She didn't say a word. The woman just nodded and dashed from the room, Ahsoka making to go after her, but was stopped by her Master's strong arm.

"They can handle her. She's good, but not _that_ good." He turned angry brown eyes back to Kenobi, his old friend smirking again, the tension and anger from before faded like it was never there to begin with. "...how could you do this, Obi-Wan?"

"Don't pretend like you don't know, Quin. Out of all the Jedi, you are the one that would understand best."

Quinlan closed his eyes. He was right, of course. Something about all of this just felt right. He wasn't sure why he asked that. He just...didn't know what to say. Regardless, it would be over today. Qui-Gon and Anakin would be here soon, and the four of them should be able to take him. Skywalker would lose another arm, of course, but that was a fair trade. "I... _do_ know why you fell. But I don't understand. I wish you came to me, I could have helped you, we could have done it together."

"I didn't need help, Quin," Obi-Wan said, his voice soft and almost...sad, he thought. "I wanted power, and I wasn't afraid to take it. There wasn't anything you could have done to stop this because I _wanted_ it. I chose this." Ahsoka peeked out at the Sith from under Quinlan's arm, and the Sith brightened immediately, a cruel smirk on his face. "Oh, you brought a _Padawan_! Dangerous place to bring a student, Quinlan, what exactly did you plan to teach the girl? There aren't many lessons in death, I'm afraid."

"Obi-Wan, as much as I love you, I can't have you talk dirty around younglings!" He smirked, holding the girl back. "You only talk that way to me in _private_."

"What are you waiting for, Master?!" Ahsoka cried, slipping out from under his arm and raising her green blade at the Sith. "We can take him together!"

"Oh, she is _precious_ ," Kenobi cooed, and the Togruta's eyes narrowed.

"I'm not scared of you, _Sithkiller_."

"Oh, this is priceless, Quin, where did you dig this one up from?"

"Ahsoka, please," the Kiffar hissed, pulling the girl back, and the Sith's golden eyes widened.

"Ahsoka..." he drawled softly, and both Jedi looked curiously to the Sith Lord. "Master Plo's Ahsoka?" The caught breath and the widened eyes of the girl confirmed who she was, and the Sith softened considerably. "I remember you."

"Don't listen, Ahsoka, he's trying to mislead you."

"No, I'm not. Not yet, in any case. I saw her at the Temple after we got back from our mission. She...refocused me on my hunt for the Sith after the Council did everything they could to destroy and discredit me..." For just a moment, Quinlan could feel the Dark Side, rich and powerful and howling around his old friend, and then it was gone. The Kiffar wondered if he had actually seen it at all. "I doubt you remember, but-"

"I remember," the Togruta whispered, the green saber unsteady in her hands as she shook. "You were my hero. You...said you'd protect me. How could you abandon us!? There are thousands of younglings in the Temple, what's going to happen to them if the Sith win?!"

"I don't pretend to know my Master's plans."

Quinlan laughed. "You're just a slave, Kenobi."

"Or I'm just lying." The Sith smirked when the Jedi Master's eyes narrowed, bringing his lightsaber up again. "I'm not stupid enough to share my plans. You know that's always when things go wrong." He closed his eyes, reaching through the Force, and with a slight smile, he held out his hand, fingers splayed, and Ahsoka dropped to her knees, her lightsaber clattering to the ground as she grabbed the small domes of her head, the three points of her lekku twisting and turning as she struggled, and the Kiffar kneeled before her, hand on her head and recoiling suddenly as the Sith's sweet, soft voice echoed in his mind.

"...what have you done?" Quinlan snarled, standing again and swinging his blade around, jaw clenched in cold fury.

"Relax, Quin, I'm keeping her out of the way. I'm sure you don't want her harmed by accident." He laughed, igniting the crimson blade as he did so. "I _do_ tend to have a lot of accidents, it's really unfortunate."

"Why are you doing this?!"

He shrugged. "I'm helping you train her. I think she's going to get this lesson in pain a bit indirectly. And I _did_ say you'd need your weapon when we met." Kenobi turned golden eyes on the Padawan, her teeth clenched tightly as she attempted to resist the voice echoing in her mind. "Would you like that, my dear Ahsoka?"

"Be strong, Ahsoka, you can fight this!"

"...y-yes, Master..." The Kiffar looked back at his Padawan, her face contorted in deep concentration, her resistance strong, her eyes clouded, and Quinlan couldn't be sure who the girl was talking to.

"So, what, are you going to make her watch you kill me?"

Obi-Wan laughed. "I'm not going to kill you, Quin. I even lowered the power settings on my lightsaber _just_ for you. It's not going to kill you but..." Kenobi grinned. "It _is_ going to hurt quite a bit..." He brought the blade behind his shoulder, tip angled down and raised his other hand, pointing at the Jedi. "I do hope you've been training. I've _always_ been better than you."

"Soresu, Kenobi?" Quinlan smirked. "An odd choice, for a Sith Lord."

"A _smart_ choice, Quin. There are no odd choices. Come now. Try to kill me, Jedi. I promise this will only be agonizingly painful."

There wasn't anything left to say, and Quinlan was tired of stalling. Qui-Gon and Anakin would arrive eventually. For now, all that was left to do was to throw himself against Obi-Wan, his green blade arching in the air and beating against the iron defenses of the Sith. The fight was vicious, the Jedi's lightsaber leaving streaks of brilliant green through the air as he flipped over the Sith, slashing down at him and trying to get around him. He was moving so quickly that for a short amount of time, it seemed like Kenobi was being attacked from all sides. But even so, the Sith was exerting hardly any effort at all. He was just as quick as the Kiffar, but while Master Vos' movements were powerful and strong and punctuated with high mobility made impressive by extreme athleticism, Obi-Wan moved his arms only when necessary. Most of the time, the Sith was able to perry the swift, vicious strikes with a slight move of his wrists, the red blade moving slightly to gently push the green blade just out of the way instead of knocking it to the side.

Quinlan wasn't getting anywhere, and when he backed off even slightly, Kenobi pressed forward, slipping out of the defensive Soresu and easing into the swift, deadly efficiency of Dooku's Makashi, and it was during one of Quinlan's retreats that Kenobi touched him for the first time, the red blade pressing into his left shoulder and cutting diagonally across the Kiffar's chest, the green and brown earth tones of his tunic cutting easily and singing the corse fabric. He staggered back, clutching his chest and gasping and shock, and for a moment, Quinlan thought Kenobi lied. His weapon was set to its highest setting, the red blade deadly, and he had just been struck across the chest, a dark, savage burn on his skin to mark the lightsaber's trail. His lungs burned like there were flames within him, and the Kiffar dropped to his knees when he found himself unable to breathe.

"Oh, stop being so _dramatic_ ," Kenobi drawled, rolling his eyes. "I told you, I lowered the setting. You're not dying, you're not even injured, it just goes skin deep." The Kiffar's hand clutched around his lightsaber as he looked at Ahsoka, her hazy blue eyes wide, and he could feel her panic and her worry through their bond. Closing his eyes, he sent what comfort he could to her, but their connection was blocked. The Sith stood in the way of it, his own command of the Dark Side stopping the river of the Force that flowed between them.

"If you're going to kill me, do it..." Quinlan gasped, and the Sith Lord just laughed.

"If I was going to kill you, you'd already be dead." He smirked, twirling the red blade easily around his wrist. "Come now, my friend. Don't let that stop you. This is a lower setting than the one my Master uses on me, and I keep fighting."

Quinlan groaned as he got to his feet, his lungs burning with every breath, the rough, seared trail across his chest sending new pain through him each time his chest expanded. With a deep breath, he centered himself through the pain, connecting with the Force and renewing his focus. With a cocky smirk, he raised his lightsaber. "What can I say, you always were better than me."

"I know."

"What's it like being a slave to the Sith? Obviously it hurts." He grinned. "Do you _like_ it, Obi-Wan?"

The taunting didn't work. The Sith Lord just smirked, sauntering closer to the Kiffar. "The Jedi lied to you, you know. Your Code is a collection of half truths meant to keep you complacent. I was _freed_ by the Code of the Sith. And don't give me that nonsense about being a slave to my own desires, it's just more lies from the Jedi, and coming from you, it would be downright hypocritical."

"You don't need to lecture me about the Jedi Code, Obi-Wan, I'm not a youngling." The Master scoffed. "And I don't follow it anyway. Not well, at least."

"...I know." The Sith Lord held out his hand to his old friend. "There's power in the Dark Side, Quin. More than the Jedi tell you about. The Force can truly set you free, if you allow it. You are already walking in the shadows of the Force. Come with me, I'll show you the power of the Dark Side."

"I never wanted that."

"Power and freedom, Quinlan! You've always been a free spirit, you were never meant to walk the path of the Jedi!"

"...I'll decide what path I walk." He raised his green saber and pointed it at the Sith. "We've talked enough. Qui-Gon said words are your weapon, and I'll hear no more from you."

"...that isn't my only weapon, Quin," Kenobi sighed, raising his saber, the red blade humming in the air, and the Kiffar attacked, the furious green blade moving even faster than before, something Kenobi didn't think was possible. This Jedi Master was fully in tune with the Force, his focus absolute, the pain in his body faded into nothing, and Kenobi couldn't help but smile. His friend had become _much_ stronger. It wasn't enough, though, and even in the Jedi's concentration, Kenobi could feel the cracks in his defenses, the slow stream of darkness that lay just below the surface, and if he could just reach out and _touch it_...

The Sith ducked under a savage strike from the Kiffar, his red blade held at a downward angle just over his head, the green blade connecting and sliding harmlessly off, and when the weapon was free, Kenobi brought the blade up over his head in a wide circle, the red saber passing right through both of the Kiffar's forearms, the armor he wore shattering and falling away, and with a cry of pain, he dropped his lightsaber into the Sith's open, waiting hand.

Quinlan staggered back, clutching the burning rings of skin on his forearms, and he glared at the smirking Obi-Wan, the man teasingly holding his lightsaber in his off-hand. The Kiffar could feel rage building up inside him, a cold fury that made him blind to everything but the Sith before him. Obi-Wan was his friend once, and he did not forget that, but in that moment, he wanted Kenobi _dead_.

Obi-Wan took a deep breath, his golden eyes drifting the shaking Ahsoka, the girl looking pale and ill under the force of the Dark Side that held her down. "You know, if you stop resisting, it doesn't feel so bad," he drawled, and the Togruta recoiled, strengthening her defenses and looking like she would retch for having done so. "Do you want to see what the Dark Side is like?" he asked softly, pointing to the fuming Kiffar. "I feel like you may see it in your Master. Tell me, if he fell, would you follow? A good Padawan follows their Master without question..."

Quinlan's green lightsaber was torn out of Kenobi's hands and was caught by the charging Kiffar, bringing the weapon down in a furious slash that just missed the Sith, and Kenobi was forced to give ground, quickly dodging out of the way and backing up to avoid the furious assault. It was unlike anything he had ever seen, except maybe once before. Obi-Wan's eyes narrowed, each slash coming closer than the last to fatally striking him, but he _had_ to know. Quinlan was a known practitioner of Ataru, like many Jedi, but when he began this assault, there had been a change, a subtle shift in the way that the Master dueled that left the Force itself raging through his blade, giving him almost supernatural speed and power, and with a smirk, Kenobi felt the stirring of the Dark Side within the Jedi.

Their blades locked, the Kiffar's face contorted in rage, and Kenobi softly drawled, "Quinlan, is that _Vaapad_ you are using? When did Mace teach you that?" The Jedi snarled, renewing his vicious assault, but now, Obi-Wan knew what Quinlan was doing, and with the Dark Side running through his blood, he had a way in. "You're _enjoying_ this, aren't you? The use of Vaapad requires it. That isn't very Jedi, is it?"

" _Shut up_!" He swung his lightsaber with such speed it seemed as though ribbons of light were surrounding him, his frustrations rising as Kenobi avoided or blocked every single strike. However, he had the Sith on the defensive, and that was good enough for him. He reached out to strike again at his retreating opponent, but this time, the Sith moved in, blades locking at the hilt, red over green, and Quinlan couldn't move his weapon without moving back, allowing the Sith to stop the Jedi's offensive and begin his own. Quinlan wouldn't allow that to happen.

"I can't imagine Mace Windu approving of your use of his style. Did your Masters not tell you how dangerous using the Dark Side is, Quin?" The Sith was smirking, those golden eyes glowing. " _Especially_ against me?"

Quinlan felt anger flash through him, drawing in as much power as he could and he felt strength well within him, but only for a moment. The yellow eyes before him flashed, and the Force within the Jedi, veined with darkness, transformed into agonizing pain, and the red saber slashed up, the tip of the blade cutting a burning trail through the gold band tattoo on the Kiffar's face and next to his right eye. It was over. Quinlan staggered back, dropping his lightsaber and falling to the floor and hand pressed tightly against his face and convulsing as his blood boiled in his veins. He heard the Sith's lightsaber deactivate, the plasma energy shutting off with a hiss, and Kenobi kneeled down next to the Jedi, his long-fingered hand slipping gently into the Kiffar's thick black hair.

"If you just let go, you could be _great_. Quinlan, _we_ could be great." The Jedi couldn't answer. He could barely move, and he tensed when he heard Ahsoka's strangled gasp, the girl struggling against the powers that held her, but she was just a Padawan. She had little training, and _nothing_ could have prepared her for the power of this Lord of the Sith. He'd be lying to himself he said he wasn't tempted, didn't feel the Dark Side calling to him stronger than it ever had before, but he needed to resist. For Ahsoka.

The timing couldn't have been better for Qui-Gon Jinn and Anakin Skywalker to come running into the room, blue sabers blazing and both men out of breath, sweaty and extremely disheveled, positively covered in dust and dirt and oil and lubricant from the droids they had destroyed to get there. Their tunics were singed in several places from too close calls from blaster shots, and the shoulder of Anakin's tunic had been cut nearly all the way through with what had to have been a lightsaber.

Obi-Wan slowly rose, eying the two Jedi cautiously. There were a few reasons as to why Ventress had failed in her task, but Kenobi could only think of one. He closed his eyes, reaching out with the Force as he paged Asajj on the comlink at his wrist. She didn't answer, and she didn't need to. Kenobi could feel her in the Force, her presence frustrated and raging, but she was alive. His eyes narrowed. His time with Quinlan had been enjoyable, but seeing his old Master with the boy that replaced him set the Sith's blood to boiling, the glowing coals of the Dark Side held tightly in his grasp as he readied to stoke it into consuming flames.

"Took you long enough," Quinlan groaned from the ground, slowly pushing himself up and pointing toward Ahsoka. "He's in her mind, we need to get her free."

"Understood," Qui-Gon whispered, slowly advancing on the Sith, and golden eyes narrowed at him. Anakin faded into the shadows behind him, watching the Sith carefully, but Obi-Wan's full attention was on Master Jinn.

"Yoda isn't here to save you this time, Qui-Gon," Kenobi snarled, and the Master glared at his former student.

"He doesn't need to be. You won't kill me, I can feel your hesitation. Like it or not, you and I are connected."

"Underestimating me is a mistake, _Master_."

"I never would," Qui-Gon said, shaking his head. "But Anakin and I fought your friend Ventress for a _very_ long time, and we come here to find both our friends alive. It's not too late for you."

Kenobi looked over at Quinlan, the tall man gently cupping his Padawan's face in his hands and trying to reach her through the Dark Side, the young Ahsoka groaning as she struggled to tune out the soft, compelling voice that echoed in her head, and Qui-Gon, standing before him with his guard lowered. Obi-Wan brought his lightsaber up and adjusted it, turning the power up to its maximum level, the thrum of the energy increasing in pitch as the blade turned from painful to deadly.

"You're right," he said, closing his eyes and reaching through the Force to sense his surroundings. "You and I are still connected. I won't kill you, Qui-Gon. But I _will_ make you suffer."

"We can-"

" _We can't_!" Obi-Wan snarled, the yellow eyes blazing as he stoked the flames of the Dark Side, and Ahsoka howled in pain, grasping her head as suffering rushed through her with the increased power of the Force. Quinlan left her side, drawing his saber again and coming to stand before the older Master. Kenobi laughed loudly, his accented voice cold and cruel and bitter, and the Masters slowly moved out to flank him. "You say it's not too late for me, Qui-Gon. You claim to want to bring me back, but you are _lying to me_. Again. Just as you always have."

"Obi-Wan, I can help you of you'd let me!"

"No, you won't. You _can't_." The yellow eyes fell on Qui-Gon accusingly. "Tell me where Skywalker is. You walked in with him, and now he's gone so _where did you tell him to hide_." Qui-Gon said nothing, and the Sith started laughing loudly. "So what's the plan? Did you hide him to ambush me? Are you going to kill me today, or just bring me in?"

"Obi-Wan, if you'd just listen-"

"That's alright. You don't need to tell me." The Sith closed his eyes and reached out with the Force, and watching his only opportunity beginning to slip him by, Anakin dropped down from the ceiling, his blade striking the ground as Kenobi sidestepped it, bringing his own blade around and viciously going after Skywalker as he surrendered to the power and wrath of the Dark Side.

The other two Masters rushed in to help, but Kenobi's splayed hand shot out towards them and sent Quinlan and Qui-Gon flying across the room, striking one of the many bookshelves along the wall and sending books tumbling off the shelves. Like before, Kenobi fought defensively, his sharp yellow eyes carefully watching his opponent's movements, his whole being so lost in the Force that when Anakin reached out to try and gauge his adversary, all he felt was the torrent of the Dark Side, a bright, shining storm in the Force that drowned out all else. His actions were guided by something else, and it allowed the Sith to divide his attention, his body moving nearly automatically, as if something else held control, while Kenobi allowed his eyes to drift to the two Masters now rushing toward him. Once again, he reached out his hand, and pointed toward Ahsoka Tano, and issued one, single command.

"Kill the Jedi."

The voice echoed in her head, soft at first, than louder and louder until her own thoughts began chanting in unison with the voice of the Sith Lord. The girl rose, activated her lightsaber, and rushed at the two Masters, Quinlan and Qui-Gon turning just in time to see the green blade streaking toward them, and the Kiffar staggered back, the older Master locking blades with the Togruta.

"Go help Anakin, I'll help her." With a nod, Quinlan rushed in to aid Skywalker. The boy seemed to be holding his own, but the Kiffar knew that wouldn't last.

When Quinlan joined the fray, Obi-Wan had to divert his full attention to the matter at hand. The Kiffar was already furious, made even more so by worry for his student, and Anakin, for all his brashness and reckless behavior, _had_ learned from their previous encounters, and was a rare, natural talent for lightsaber combat. Kenobi knew he could win with enough time and patience. After all, the Jedi had already been worn down by Ventress. Lightsabers clashed and sparked and filled the air with light, and Kenobi was unable to press any offensive. Anakin and Quinlan worked _terribly_ well together, and when one finished pressing an assault, the other would simply slip in to keep the pressure on the Sith. They worked in tandem, the two Jedi perfectly synched with one another, and this couldn't be allowed to continue. Kenobi shivered when he felt the Force run cold, and, gritting his teeth, he allowed the Dark Side to engulf him, reaching out with his off-hand and sending Quinlan to his knees in clear agony. The Dark Side ran just under the Kiffar's skin, and thought he didn't embrace it, it gave Kenobi an easy way to reach within his old friend.

The moment was enough to stop Skywalker, the teenager lurching forward as his partner fell, and, the Padawan hung back, putting himself between the Kiffar and the Sith. He frowned as the serious, focused expression on Kenobi's face melted back to one of ease and amusement. He was back in control of the situation, and Anakin _hated_ it.

"What's wrong, Skywalker?" Are you afraid?" the Sith purred, taunting the young Jedi, and Anakin grimaced.

"I've never been afraid of you. Let Master Quinlan and Ahsoka go. _Now_."

"You don't get to make demands of me." The golden eyes narrowed, but Anakin didn't rush in to engage. Obi-Wan did, though, this time on the offensive, and Anakin deftly moved and blocked and parried, feeling the Force fill him and focus him as calm settled over him, keeping himself between Kenobi and the other three Jedi. As long as he had life within him, Skywalker wouldn't let the Sith pass.

But it never came to that. While Kenobi was engaged with Skywalker, Qui-Gon had managed to subdue the rabid Ahsoka, securing her lightsaber to his belt, and rushed to Quinlan, touching him on the shoulder, and within a moment, the Kiffar was breathing deeply and ready again to fight. Anakin grinned as the two Masters joined the fray, and for the first time since he had seen him, Anakin saw concern on Kenobi's face.

It still wasn't an easy fight. Despite Quinlan's fury, Qui-Gon's diverting attacks, and Anakin's powerful strikes, Obi-Wan stayed strong, positioning himself just right to cause the Jedi to get in the way of each other, his defensive Soresu a perfect and energy-preserving shield, and despite the speed of the Jedi, they could never surround him. When his comlink beeped incessantly, the Sith Lord smirked, his golden eyes gleaming with delight.

"It's over, Jedi."

"We're just getting started," Anakin growled, and Obi-Wan laughed when Qui-Gon's own comlink went off. Even Quinlan stopped, pulling back to guard the other Master as he answered it, his own green lightsaber and Anakin's pointed toward the Sith.

The voice on the other end was frantic, panicked, punctuated by the audio cutting and the words blurred by static, but through the audio chaos, the occupants in the room could hear clearly the words, "Everyone is dying! It came out of nowhere!" It was followed by screams and a fearsome, piercing roar, and a distant voice could be heard saying in terror, "It's a _rancor_." Then the com cut, filling the silence with static.

Kenobi shrugged theatrically, the Jedi frozen in their place. "Oh dear. If you leave now, Jedi, you may be able to save some of them."

"...Master," Anakin whispered. "I can't beat this Sith alone..."

"We can't beat him in pairs either," Qui-Gon said softly, retracting his blade.

Quinlan looked at them in shock. "We can't just let him go, Qui-Gon! Not after all he's done!"

"We can, and we will," he whispered, his dark blue eyes never leaving Obi-Wan's pleased face. "We'll have other chances to deal with the Sith, and this war won't end with his capture. But we only have this chance now to save our men."

"The Senator's there too, Master," Anakin said, switching off his lightsaber and returning it to his belt.

"We need to hurry," Qui-Gon insisted, and the Kiffar snarled, putting away his weapon and running to his Padawan. He scooped the unconscious girl up and held her to him tightly, brown eyes narrowing at the Sith. Kenobi bowed.

"Until next time, Master Vos. I do so look forward to it."

"Oh, I do as well, Obi-Wan." With a last look at his former friend, Quinlan dashed out of the room on the heels of his fellow Jedi, leaving Obi-Wan Kenobi alone in the dark of the room, quietly laughing to himself. The events of the day saw all his plans laid out before him. It wouldn't be long now. The Jedi would be his.


	29. Dwindling Numbers

When the Jedi left the Separatist base, they saw nothing but smoke and flames, the streets littered with the twisted metal of broken droids and the mangled, bloody bodies of hundreds of clones. The long boulevard was littered in debris and bodies as far as the Jedi could see, and Qui-Gon clutched at his chest, the pain of hundreds of lives extinguished felt keenly in the Force. The high-pitched screech of a sleek black and red cruiser pulled them out of their daze, and they watched the ship speed away, if for nothing else, to focus on something other than the massacre before them.

Quinlan stepped forward first, coming to kneel before a blaster that was splattered with blood, and he closed his eyes, laying his hand on the weapon and feeling it with the Force. The vision jolted him like a ship going in to hyperspace, and his mind was filled with visions of chaos and panic, clones running and shooting against an enemy that was completely impervious to blaster fire, and Quinlan's eyes widened as he focused on the cause of the panic. Rampaging through the streets was, in fact, a rancor, but the beast was far bigger and far more ferocious than the Kiffar tracker had ever seen. Large horns and tusks rose out of it's pale gray skin, and the feral beast wore the torn cockpit of a starfighter on its head, the transparisteel of the viewport serving as shielding for the beast's vulnerable eyes, the metal twisted around the horns and fixing it to its head like a primitive helmet. With a sharp gasp, Quinlan released the weapon.

"It was a rancor."

"A _rancor_?" Anakin asked, and the Kiffar nodded. He knew that the clones _said_ it was a rancor, but Skywalker had thought they were mistaken. Rancors didn't live on Christophsis. They didn't live on Tatooine either, but Anakin had heard from his brother Owen that the resident crime lord, Jabba the Hutt, kept one as a pet. Maybe this one was an escaped animal as well.

"Not like one I've ever seen, but yes." Quinlan frowned.

"I don't understand," Qui-Gon whispered, his hand coming to his chin as he considered all that had happened. "Rancor will rampage through basically everything. We came as soon as we got the call, so...where is the beast?"

"...that's a really good question." Quinlan's eyes scanned the area and quickly found the path the rampaging rancor had taken. "I'm going to go look for the beast. You get back to camp with Ahsoka and see how bad the damage is." The Kiffar didn't wait to hear Qui-Gon's protests, and within a moment, the tracker was bounding and leaping over piles of bodies and debris as he followed the careening trail.

"...come on, Anakin," Qui-Gon said softly, picking up the still-dazed Togruta and slowly starting down the boulevard before he stopped, shaking his head and heading off toward a smaller side street. Skywalker jogged to catch up with him, shooting one last look at the field of battle, and he felt rage simmer deep within him. The Separatists would pay for what happened here.

"What happened?" the Padawan asked softly, and Qui-Gon shook his head.

"I don't know exactly. But this wasn't a battle. This was a trap. Obi-Wan knew our plan. That's why this happened."

"He wasn't just lucky?"

"There's no such thing as luck, Anakin. There's only the will of the Force, and Obi-Wan has been manipulating the Force for a _very_ long time. This happened because he willed it."

"...so we have a traitor."

"That seems likely, yes."

Anakin's blue eyes narrowed. "We need to find the traitor, and we need to take this planet. We can't let all those clones die for nothing." Qui-Gon said nothing, and Skywalker bit his lip, kicking at the dust on the ground. At least these streets weren't wet with blood. "...what happened in there with Kenobi, Master?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean..." Anakin stopped, collecting his thoughts as he observed his Master's blank features. "He's Sith, isn't he? He could have killed us all, more than once. He was holding back. _Why_."

"I want to say it's because he's still himself. That he's... _salvageable_." Qui-Gon shook his head. "He isn't, I know this. Yoda knows it. He's...patient. He's planning something. Maybe it's because of the Jedi we brought, maybe it would have gone differently if someone else were here instead of us." He sighed deeply, clutching the Togruta close to him. "We need to change our approach. Going after Obi-Wan is too dangerous, but if we want the war to end, we need to capture him and Dooku. The Confederacy will collapse without them."

Anakin looked up into the sky, breathing deep and even as he observed clone transport ships flying overhead as they lowered out of sight behind the buildings of the city. "...well, we could avoid him. You're right. We...need to be patient."

"...are you sure Obi-Wan didn't mess with your mind? _You_ , suggesting patience?" Anakin flushed deeply, his teeth grit as he felt his ears burn.

"I'm _trying_ to learn, Master! You keep advising patience, and today, I actually listened. I fought with a Sith and _didn't_ lose a hand, so I think maybe it was good advice."

"...you did very well." Skywalker looked up at the Master, and the man, despite the weight on his shoulders, was smiling faintly. "You put life before killing the Sith, you protected us instead of focusing on the attack. You were... _centered_. I've never felt you harness the Force so well."

"...you think?"

The Master nodded. "I'll be forced to give a good report to Master Yoda. He may die of shock."

The compliment was a touch backhanded, but it was said with a light heart, and it was a compliment none the less. Anakin grinned. "It...felt good. I hated letting him go, but...well, we'll see him again, probably sooner than we want."

"That is a certainty. The Force certainly has a cruel sense of humor..." He sighed deeply. "Three times...what _is_ he planning..."

"...the first time doesn't count. That was a mistake, he meant to leave before we got there. But on Mandalore, he wanted us there, and today...well, he _obviously_ was waiting for us."

"More importantly, he _left_. He obviously doesn't care if the planet comes into Republic hands."

"...what kind of commander doesn't care if he loses a major battle?"

"...one that's thinking three steps ahead." Qui-Gon groaned loudly. "This is like playing against Obi-Wan in holochess or dejarik, and I've never known anyone to play the game better. He lost Christophsis to move pieces so he could trap us later."

"...Master, I _really_ hate this guy."

"I understand the feeling." They came out from the small, twisting streets to the Republic encampment, and they found order slowly being restored by fresh battalions of clones, the blue individualized stripes and designs on the bright white armor indicating that the 501st legion belonging to Qui-Gon had arrived from the _Resolute_. The battle in space above the planet continued, but the Separatist blockade had been hopelessly broken, allowing both sides to freely send new troops to their front lines. The camp was thankfully untouched. The rancor seemed to not get that far before it disappeared. Clones lay dead and dying all around the encampment, but the new arrivals had brought medical droids and supplies, and the wounded were being tended to.

When Anakin spied the familiar blue pattern on a clone's helmet, he rushed to the man and tightly hugged him, the clone gasping and struggling to get away as his brothers pointed and laughed. "You Jedi are... _affectionate_..."

"Compassion _is_ our greatest quality!" Anakin chirped. "I'm so glad you're alive, Rex!"

"Me too..." he removed his helmet, running his hand over his shaven head. "Not many of us got away." He saluted when Qui-Gon approached, the old Master nodding slightly, and the clone and the Padawan fell into step just behind the Jedi. "Sir, I'm sorry. We failed you in this battle, we-"

"At ease, soldier. You did your part to the best of your abilities. _We_ failed _you_. It was a trap, and we didn't sense it." He laid Ahsoka down on the ground, and Anakin quickly found some spare cloth to put the Togruta upon.

"A trap? I thought we were trapping the clankers," the clone said softly, and Qui-Gon bent to caring for the young Padawan.

"Anakin and I feel we have a traitor in our ranks." The clone tensed.

"Sir, we are trained on Kamino to follow orders! We wouldn't-"

"If that's what we wanted, we'd be using droids. You are _people_ , Captain Rex. You think, you reach your own conclusions." Rex bit his lip and looked away, and Anakin thought he saw a faint touch of color come to the clone's face. "...also, the Sith we are fighting is a known mind manipulator, so there's that."

"If there's a traitor in our ranks, I'll find him, sir."

Qui-Gon nodded. "Tell us about what happened."

"I already gave my report to General Yoda, sir, but if you'd like-"

The Master's eyes widened. "Yoda is _here?_ "

"Unaware, you have become, Qui-Gon," came the thin, amused voice. "Old, you are" The tiny Master laughed, and Qui-Gon rose, bowing deeply, and Anakin followed suit.

"I am pleased to see you, Master Yoda," Qui-Gon said softly, watching as the tiny Master hobbled to Ahsoka's side and laid his hand on the girl's head, eyes closed in concentration as he felt and supported her presence in the Force. "Is Ahsoka going to be alright?"

Yoda grimaced, a soft groan expressing his displeasure. "Unequipped, this Padawan was, to handle the Dark Side. Healing, she will need. Recall the Jedi, we must, to teach them. Dangerous, Obi-Wan has become."

"You mean to bring all the Jedi back to Coruscant?" Anakin asked, dumbfounded. "But we're at war, Master, we can't bring everyone back and leave the galaxy undefended!" Skywalker found Yoda's stick once again bearing down on his head, and he winced, rubbing the place he was struck. How the Master managed to hit him on the head from so far down on the ground was a mystery he would never solve.

"Capture Obi-Wan, we must. But not possible will it be, if fight against him, we cannot."

"Master, he won't kill us, he-" The stick once again found its way to Anakin's head.

"No Jedi, he has killed. Not yet, that we know. But saw inside him, I did. Anger and hate, there is. Restrained, Obi-Wan has been, but long, it will not last."

"If he's restraining himself," Qui-Gon said softly, "than perhaps there's some of his old self left in him."

Yoda nodded sagely. "Yes. But aid the Dark Side, it does. More dangerous, it makes him, than ancient Sith. Remain guarded, we must." He tapped his stick against Rex's armored leg. "The rancor, captain."

"R-right." Rex cleared his throat. "The Separatists sent a third wave of droids to face us. We were suffering casualties, but the trap was working. We suffered setbacks when that... _woman_ showed up." Rex sneered, and Anakin couldn't help but repress a chuckle. The clone had been outraged to discover that the Separatists employed Force wielders as well, believing the Republic to hold the monopoly on the ability.

"We took care of her quickly enough..." Anakin drawled, a smug smirk on his face.

Rex nodded. "When the Jedi left to assist General Vos, we..." The clone cleared his throat, shaking his head as if trying to make sense of the images in his mind. "It was a _rancor_ , General. Enormous and gray with _huge_ horns and it was..." He growled, crossing his arms. "It was wearing a _ship_ on its head, General. It was outfitted for combat, and blasters don't work against it. It ran through us like we were nothing."

"Did you order a retreat?" Qui-Gon asked, and Rex nodded in affirmation.

"As soon as I realized we had no way of taking it down. But by then, it was too late. I ordered the retreat, but not all companies followed me out. They were massacred."

"How many survived?"

Rex shrugged. "Torrent company mostly made it out. But the others...there were less than a hundred of us on the ground before General Yoda arrived with reenforcements." Anakin bit his lip and had to look away. They had nearly a thousand clones on the ground when the sun rose that morning.

"Master, we should have stayed."

"I'm beginning to think you're right. Our lives aren't worth the loss of so many."

"Sir, we were born for this," Rex started to say, but Qui-Gon held up his hand to silence him.

"Why you were born is irrelevant. What matters is that you _were_ born. All life is precious, even those that were manufactured as you were."

"How did you stop the attack?" Anakin asked, and the clone looked puzzled.

"We didn't. The creature just...left. It was rampaging and tearing through us and everything in its path and then it just _stopped_. It looked like something called it away, but we didn't hear anything."

Qui-Gon could feel a pit form in his stomach, and he looked at his Padawan and Master Yoda. They both felt it too. "...Quinlan went after the beast. If it's out there, he will find it."

"And it's _not_." They all looked up to see Quinlan Vos return, breathing heavily and covered in dirt, his tunic shredded from his battle with the Sith and a long, thin burn running up the side of his face. Qui-Gon hadn't noticed it before. "I followed it's trail, and it began and ended in the same place, and until recently, there was a ship there. It left on a _ship_."

They were silent for a long while, little Master Yoda closing his eyes and sinking into meditation while the others wrestled with a growing sense of dread. "I've never heard of a rancor behaving that way..." Anakin said softly. He couldn't take the silence. He needed to talk about this, or it became far too frightening. "I've never heard of a rancor _looking_ that way either. Aren't they brown?"

"Normally," Quinlan growled, rubbing at the burns on his forearms. He frowned. It looked like he was manacles, and _nobody_ kept Quinlan Vos. He'd have to pay Obi-Wan back for this. "There are several variations of the species. This one is a Bull Rancor. Native to Felucia, and a great deal bigger and more dangerous than the common species." He crossed his arms over his chest and winced as he rubbed against the burn on his chest. "Felucia is a Confederate world, so if they're taking in beasts now, that's a good place to start."

"But how are they _taming_ them?"

"I've heard the Nightsisters of Dathomir tame the rancor as a part of their training," Qui-Gon said softly, and Quinlan grinned at the other Master.

"They do. And that hot piece of ass they brought with them is a _Nightsister_." He paused. "Not Obi-Wan. Ventress." The Kiffar rolled his eyes. "Force, Anakin, Obi-Wan can't be a Nightsister, stop being so ridiculous..."

Skywalker shook his head. All he could do was play along, or the ridicule would continue. "Sorry, Master, it won't happen again. I didn't mean to get in on your territory."

"Could the rancor belong to Ventress?" Qui-Gon mused, stroking his beard as he thought.

"Or Obi-Wan," Quinlan drawled. "When we traveled together, we went to Dathomir to meet the leader of the witches there. Obi-Wan knew her, he could have learned to tame them from her."

"Why couldn't he just do it himself?" Anakin said under his breath, but all the Jedi Masters heard him, and they all looked to him. The Padawan could feel his ears burn. "He's obviously powerful. _Very_ powerful. I tried to get a feel of him through the Force while we fought, and it was..I've never seen anything like it." He bit his lip for a moment and looked to his Master, those dark blue eyes downcast. "...we know he can control minds. Not just weak ones, but _Jedi_. Ahsoka and I aren't weak, we know how to shield, and he commanded us all the same. Controlling a beast like a rancor isn't exactly a stretch."

"...I don't _want_ him to have a rancor!" Quinlan wailed, kneeling beside his Padawan and scooping up in her arms. "I'm going back to the ship. I need medical attention and Ahsoka..." The Kiffar's face suddenly fell, and he clutched the small girl to him tighter. "...I don't know what she needs. I've failed her, and it won't happen again..."

"Will you be back?" Anakin asked, and Master Vos shook his head.

"Between you and Qui-Gon and Yoda, you'll capture the planet in no time at all. I'll just get in the way." Quinlan left without another word, Rex following closely behind him, and Anakin scooted closer to his Master.

"...can I ask you something?" he whispered, and the Jedi nodded. "Why did you take me from Tatooine?"

"This is hardly the time for-"

"No, it _is_ the time for it, Master," Anakin snapped, much harsher than he intended. "I've now seen Obi-Wan in the Force, and it was _overwhelming_. You've always said my potential is nearly limitless, but I'm not even _close_ to the strength of him!"

"You are, Anakin..."

"No, I'm not! He held his own against three of us, he controls people's minds, he is so close to the Force I can't see where the Force ends and he begins! And you threw that away for _me_?!"

"I didn't throw him away, Anakin!"

"Maybe not, but _he_ thinks you did, and that's what matters right now, because that's what he brings to the table every time we fight him. You're the Master that threw him away, and I'm the boy that replaced him. No matter how you look at this, it isn't good."

"Right, Skywalker is," Yoda softly rasped, his eyes still closed, and both Jedi sank to their knees and sat before him. "Powerful, the Dark Side has made him, Skywalker. Study, you must, focus, you must have, if face him, you will."

"...but he is stronger than me." The Master just shook his head.

"More powerful, the Dark Side is not. Strong, he is, but stronger are the Jedi."

"He took on three of us at once!"

Yoda's closed eyes clenched tighter. "A Master he is, of the Dark Side. A Jedi Master, he would have been, if with us, he had stayed. Knowledge he has of both sides of the Force."

"...how do we defeat him, Master?" Qui-Gon asked softly, and Yoda opened his eyes and looked at the Jedi.

"Know that, I do not."

"We'll just have to get stronger," Anakin mumbled, rising to his feet and brushing himself off. "Master Yoda, when I fought him today, I...I felt in tune with the Force like I never have before. It was calming and comforting and I felt so centered, I..." He took a deep breath. "I need to be able to do that at will. I believe you. Calm and focus are a Jedi's weapons, but Obi-Wan uses them too. Can you help me learn to be closer to the Force?"

The small Master nodded, a faint smile on his lips. "Help you, I can."

"Thank you, Master."

Qui-Gon rose, laying his hand on his Padawan's shoulder. "Anakin," he whispered, his voice careful and measured. "I took you from Tatooine because it was the will of the Force for us to find you. The Force is always trying to balance itself, and if the Dark Side is on the rise...maybe you are part of the Force's plan to return balance." He looked away. "Obi-Wan was ready. Or, I thought he was. I never would have let him go if I knew it would lead to this..."

"...I know, Master." Anakin smiled softly and slowly hugged the towering Qui-Gon. "I'm sorry...I didn't mean to be so harsh. Force, you must think I'm awful."

"No," the Master smirked. "Just impatient. You still have much to learn."

"Tell me, you must, about the battle." Yoda rasped, and Qui-Gon nodded, quietly telling the Master about the trap they laid for the Separatists, about their fight with the Dark Sider, Ventress, about how they came to the Separatist base to find Obi-Wan standing over Quinlan Vos, his young Padawan in the corner and struggling to resist the Sith. Anakin watched the ancient Master frown as Qui-Gon detailed exactly how the fight went, and even though the Jedi had triumphed, Skywalker felt that they had lost. Allowing the Sith to escape had saved nobody.

"We all thought he was holding back, Master," Qui-Gon concluded softly, and Yoda nodded.

"Agree, I do." He closed his eyes, his long ears lowering as he seemed to be searching for something that nobody else could see. "A disturbance, there is. Meet this Sith again, I must."

"He's long gone by now," Qui-Gon drawled, "And we have a planet to liberate. How shall we go about this?"

"I don't think there's anything we can do until Rex finds the traitor," Anakin replied. "Making plans seems like a bad idea when we have someone that may be telling the Separatists all our plans. With any luck, he was killed by the rancor..."

"...perhaps we can use this to our advantage." Anakin looked to his Master and saw a pleased smirk cross his face. "We could have a strategy meeting to discuss our next tactic so the traitor gets the information we want them to. That gives us the ability to predict and control our enemy's movements."

"...that's very risky." Anakin grinned. "I like it." They were about to begin their secret planning when the com on Qui-Gon's wrist started beeping incessantly, and when he answered, he was greeted with the angry cursing of Quinlan Vos.

"You know, there _are_ children present, Quinlan."

"I'm not a child!" Anakin protested, but another volley of curses shut the Padawan up.

Suddenly, the cursing stopped, and Quinlan sweetly purred, "Oh, _Qui-Gon_. Guess where I am?"

"...what have you done."

"Nothing! I'm on the _Resolute_! Ahsoka's resting, they say she's going to be fine."

Qui-Gon exhaled with relief. "I'm glad to hear it. I don't want your Padawan on my conscious."

"Yeah, she's a tough one!" Vos laughed, his previous anger forgotten. "I'll have to teach her what I can about resisting that Sith idiot, but I'm admittedly not very good at it. Maybe Yoda will help."

"He's already requested that the Jedi return to the Temple to learn how to counteract the Dark Side."

"Oh, can you do that?"

"It won't work on you, Quinlan." They couldn't see the Kiffar, but Anakin knew he was pouting. "Are you sure you won't come to help take Christophsis? We could use your help, and it's not like you will be going home. We need the ships."

" _Oh!_ " The cursing resumed, and the Jedi sighed, listening to the creative profanities come cracking over the com. " _Guess where I am_ ," Quinlan snarled.

"The _Resolute_. We've had this conversation."

"No, I got _distracted_ ," the Kiffar hissed. "You are always distracting me."

Qui-Gon sighed. "You lack focus..."

"I've always lacked focus! Do you see the problem here? I'm on the _Resolute_!"

"You came here on my ship, Quinlan, and it seems I've correctly assumed you'd be returning to it." Qui-Gon rubbed at his temples, Anakin feeling the frustration of his Master, but Yoda, sitting and silent behind them, had a growing sense of unease.

"Right, well, my ship isn't here, Jinn."

"What do you mean, the _Dauntless_ is engaging the Separatists, we left the 212th aboard to serve as the fighting force in the air while we engaged the ground troops."

Anakin gasped when the Force pulled at him, his being reaching out and feeling the energy of the things around them. He understood Yoda's anxiety. There wasn't a disturbance in the Force. There was a _rip_ in it. "Oh no..."

"I mean, Qui-Gon," the Kiffar said slowly, "my _Dauntless_ is _gone_. I watched it leave."


	30. The Palace of Mustafar

Obi-Wan was lounging, laying sprawled comfortably between the large, wicked horns of his rancor, the light gray behemoth on its belly on the warm floor, breathing deep and relaxed and not showing any indication of being bothered by the man on its head. Before the pair, Ventress paced restlessly, and she would have been yelling if the rancor didn't growl dangerously at her the last time she had raised her voice at its Sith Master. On the wall, a broadcast of the Republic victory on Christophsis played over the holonet, a victory that came at the cost of thousands of lives over the course of nearly a week of battle.

Kenobi's theft of the Star Destroyer _Dauntless_ was easily accomplished, despite the frantic objections of his Dathomirian companion. It was easy enough to command the clones to go about their business, and even easier to obtain control of the bridge, and as an added bonus, the loss of thousands of troops forced the Republic to respond by sending more Jedi, more ships, and no way to follow them. The difficulty came later, when the Star Destroyer had come out of hyperspace, followed by Kenobi's _Negotiator_ , and the two ships had flown to the Sith's home on the planet of Mustafar. Before the war, it had taken very little time for the Sith to execute the entirety of the Black Sun crime syndicate on the lava world and capture their fortress, turning the compound into a massive, sprawling palace that rivaled Dooku's on Serenno.

This, of course, irritated the Count, forcing him to make improvements on his own palace, and the two Sith continued their competition without restraint. The result was a magnificent palace equipt with everything a Lord of the Sith may need to rule, and Kenobi found the location, with its massive, slow moving lava rivers, oddly comforting and peaceful. He could feel the Force here, rich and undisturbed, the austere, severe planet keeping civilization away and allowing the Force to exert its own will upon the fragile ecosystem. Dooku often scoffed at his choice, but Kenobi felt that without the congestion of millions of life forms, the Force was clear and focused.

When Kenobi had anchored the _Dauntless_ in orbit around the red, glowing planet, the difficulties began. On the ship were _thousands_ of clones, and while he was powerful, the purpose had been to obtain a personal army, not fodder for his rancors. The clones would have to be placated, convinced to join him and fight against their brothers, against their programming. On Christophsis, he had tamed seven clone soldiers and the other three had died in the process. The success rate wasn't awful, but he intended to keep the entirety of the 212th attack battalion alive. The process was tedious and difficult, and working with each clone individually would be nightmarish and impractical, by his calculations taking several months to complete, if he did not eat, sleep, or have anything else to do. It wasn't feasible. Converting them en mass was the only option.

Fortunately, the solution came quickly. He had sealed off the bridge, lulling the clones on the ship into complacency over the loudhailer and turning his attention to the limited crew that manned the ship's helm. The commander, CC-2224, a clone the others had referred to as Cody, was immediately targeted, and the iron will of the man was tested and slowly bent as the Sith calmly entered his mind, gently grasping the man's consciousness and sifting through it with tender care, cooing to the convulsing clone as he did so.

And then, he found it. Something... _something_ deep in the clone's mind, something hidden and secret and well protected, and with the slightest of pushes, the clone's eyes blackened with widening irises, eyelids fluttering as he looked absently around the room and softly muttered, "Good soldiers follow orders," like a chant, a mantra, and it became very clear that there was something within the clone that was driving his actions that _wasn't_ Kenobi. He had heard his Master talk about a way to remove the clones from the service of the Republic when the time had come, but the young Sith never pressed the issue. It never seemed important _how_ something like this was done, so long as it was. He could only assume this is what Darth Sidious had in mind. With the gentlest touch, Kenobi had managed to coax the clone into a lucid state, the effects of the ingrained command and the Sith's own mental manipulation leaving Cody with his mind in tact, his allegiance absolute, and a vicious, desperate belief that the Jedi were dangerous threats that needed to be eliminated. _That_ was how Sidious had planned to win the war. With soldiers that were programmed to betray their Jedi Generals.

After that, the rest was easy. A task that should have taken months was reduced to the labor of hours, and with the clone commander Cody at his side, Obi-Wan had an entire battalion at the ready to follow his every command. After all, good soldiers followed orders, and each and every clone understood this. All that was left to do was relax and plan for his next move. After all, he now had the ability to man his ship with real soldiers. He'd have to reorganize the chain of command on his flagship, and the _Dauntless_ needed a paint job and a new name.

Which led him to this moment, relaxed on the head of his rancor and watching the coverage of the victory of Christophsis and quietly ignoring Ventress' frantic pacing.

" _Four Jedi_!" Ventress snarled for the hundredth time that day, like every single day since they had left Christophsis. Kenobi sighed heavily, stroking the purring rancor between the eyes. "You had the chance to kill _four Jedi_! Two of them aren't even actual Jedi, and you just let them go!"

"We've been over this, Asajj," Kenobi said tiredly. "Christophsis wasn't about killing Jedi, it was about _image_. If we won that fight, we don't look as good. If we killed the Jedi, than we'll be taken seriously as a real threat. Christophsis is a publicity nightmare for the Republic." He pointed at the projection of the broadcast on the wall. "Look at this. Senator Organa discredited for calling in troops to seize a Confederate world without provocation. He's a warmonger now, which couldn't be further from the truth. A Republic invasion of a Separatist world during a cease-fire in light of ongoing peace talks. So the Republic is made to be the ones pushing the war. The defection of a capital ship controlled by a Jedi, along with its entire clone battalion. And might I add that the clones are supposed to be incorruptible, steadfast soldiers of the Republic." He turned over to lay on his stomach, his legs dangling over the rancor's thick neck. "This is a _mess_. And we reap all the benefits."

"... _but the Jedi_ -"

"You've spent too much time listening to Dooku," Kenobi growled. "But even he knows the value of patience and situational manipulation. His public response to this outrage was completely brilliant."

"Well, as you keep reminding me, _Kenobi_ ," she growled, stalking up to stand closer to the quietly snoring rancor and its Master, "I'm not like you two! _I'm not Sith_!" She had said it louder than she had meant, and while the massive creature before her was placated by the Sith on its head, the other two on the other side of the room behind him began to snarl aggressively. Asajj's eyes widened slightly with nervousness. She knew Obi-Wan wouldn't allow his pets to harm her, but they were intimidating none the less.

"Control your anger, Asajj," Kenobi softly warned. "Remember what I've said about the Dark Side. Without control, it will consume you."

"Dooku says surrender to it is what makes you strong!"

Kenobi frowned. For some time now, Ventress had been teetering dangerously on the cusp of real power, a explosion of the Dark Side's wrath driven from intense rage and hatred. He didn't like what it was doing to his friend, but mostly, he didn't like how strong the woman was becoming. Not because of anything personal; Asajj was his friend and ally, and while she was growing in power by the day, she also wasn't a Sith Lord. Her anger made her strong, but also unrefined, a far cry away from the tempered, focused wrath of the Sith. No, Kenobi was concerned for her safety. She was growing too strong too fast, and such growth would certainly be noticed by Darth Sidious. His Master already suspected Dooku of harboring the traditional Sith desire of murdering the Master. That he had a powerful assassin at his whims wouldn't sit well.

"It's true," he began slowly, "that the hottest stars burn brightest. But they also burn out quickly." His golden eyes narrowed as the woman shivered in anger, her jaw clenched tightly as she struggled for control. "Take care, Asajj, that the Dark Side doesn't do the same to you. If you cannot control it, than you will burn with it. Never forget that."

She paced away, growling angrily and shooting nervous glances to the other two rancors that watched her as she moved, their black, predatory eyes following her every step, snarling and growling in response to her anger. When the rancor that Kenobi was draped over raised up and barked a ferocious, high-pitched screech, Ventress stopped her pacing, her rage replaced with fear, and the other two beasts stopped as well, whining softly before laying silent. Grinning as the massive creature laid back down, Obi-Wan scratched the rancor between the eyes, the hard, scaled skin wrinkling as the beast resumed its purring.

"Good boy, Yoda."

Ventress groaned loudly and threw herself upon the couch that sat just by the rancor's mighty head. "You could have named it _anything_ , Kenobi."

"And I gave _him_ the best name!" he chirped. That particular rancor was easily the biggest of the three bulls he had captured, and it very quickly established itself as the dominant creature by virtue of being the most ferocious, the most aggressive, and easily the worst temperament of the bunch. Among bull rancors, who were already aggressive and solitary, this was unheard of, as the beasts would quickly kill each other, but the other two didn't even try. There was no contest, and even the most stubborn of beasts had an instinct for survival. He was Kenobi's favorite. "I mean, he's the _Grandmaster_ of Rancors! I can't think of a more appropriate name! And he even looks like Yoda, doesn't he?"

"Oh, yeah, just like him..." Ventress drawled sarcastically. She was silent for a long time, watching Kenobi as he watched the holonet, occasionally scrawling something on his datapad before he returned to watching. He frowned as the news correspondent talked, the Republic station condemning the actions of the Senate and the Jedi, who seemed to recoil from the war after the hollow victory. Ventress was confused when she sensed the Sith's displeasure and apprehension when everything seemed to be going exactly as planned. This didn't go unnoticed by the Sith Lord.

"It's not that things aren't going the way I wanted," he mused softly, more for Ventress' sake than his own. "It looks like the Jedi are being recalled."

"That's good, isn't it?"

Kenobi shrugged. "In the short term, yes. We'll certainly be able to gain more ground, and it gives me more time to plan." He drummed his fingers on the rancor's head. "What are the Jedi doing? Any ideas?"

"They're afraid," Asajj growled. "You frighten them."

"Yes, but they aren't withdrawing out of fear." Kenobi bit his lip. "Or maybe they are..."

"Could they be meeting to plan on how to deal with you and Dooku?" She watched Kenobi carefully, and very slowly, the man began to nod, his previous displeasure melting away as he considered the woman's idea.

"That seems likely, yes." The Sith Lord scoffed. "They're wasting their time. They don't know what I can actually do yet. This just gives me more time to secure Hutt Space and a Toydarian alliance. If I get to those fast enough, I can find time for a vacation to Mandalore as well."

"You sure do go on a lot of vacations to Mandalore."

"I like Mandalore."

"Mandalore is a desolate wasteland, there are other places in the galaxy, Obi-Wan."

Kenobi scoffed. "I'm a Sith Lord, I do as I like. I built my palace on a _lava_ world, Ventress, what part of me seems conventional?"

"Well, you're a Sith that doesn't kill Jedi, so..."

"Not this again," he groaned, rolling his eyes. "You know, there are things worse than death, my dear. Look what I did to Master Koth."

"Yes, but you're _restoring his mind_!" The rancor growled in warning, and Ventress silenced herself.

"His mind will never be his again," he drawled, waving his hand dismissively. "I'm simply allowing him some leash. When I call, he will come running. This meeting may be the prefect time to reintroduce him to the Jedi."

Ventress sighed. "You're adding to the Jedi number..."

"Yes, so I can thin them in the future." He closed his eyes, sighing in satisfaction. "I see a future where the Sith rule the galaxy, Asajj, and my palace filled with fallen Jedi that live to serve my needs. All my former Jedi brothers will be faced with the choice to join us or die, and I can make them join. They _all_ will when they see what I do to their Masters..."

"That will never come to pass if you keep letting them go..."

Kenobi sighed. "It will. They will break. But, since you are so thirsty for Jedi blood..." He tapped a few things on his datapad and tossed the device to the Nightsister. On the screen was a picture of an older man, his gray hair showing just the faintest hints of the black from his youth. "That's Jedi Master Tholme," Kenobi drawled. "Find him and kill him."

Asajj was quiet for a while, flipping through the data the Sith had collected on the Jedi Master. This wasn't like Kenobi at all. "Why don't you do this?" she asked softly, and those handsome features darkened with something that Ventress couldn't place, the rancor beneath him growling in response to the Sith's changing attitude.

"I have other plans, Asajj, I'm running a subversive war to undermine the Jedi Order. Their destruction is fine, but if I can make them see the truth of things, if I could bring them to my side..." He grinned wickedly, his yellow eyes flashing dangerously and giving Asajj a real glimpse of the depth of the darkness that ran through the heart and mind of Obi-Wan. " _That_ would be the final triumph of the Dark Side. My Master has said that the Dark Side can bite back, but if the Jedi are made to _choose_ the darkness..." He chuckled deeply. "That would be the final victory of the Dark Side. You can force people to obey, but if you can make them choose the shackles that chain them, there will be no resistance, no rebellion, no dissent."

"...so why kill this Master at all? Why not turn him to your side?"

"You are itching for action, my dear, and I can't deny you forever, and the Dark Side does periodically demand blood. You _are_ an assassin, after all, which is why you're doing this, not me. This is an assassination, and the result will help aid the fall of Quinlan Vos."

"...the Jedi we fought on Christophsis?"

"The very same."

Asajj nodded. "I'll see that it's done. I won't fail you in this." Kenobi smiled when he felt the woman's elation through the Force. This was a mission, a _real_ one, an _important_ one, and she was being trusted to carry it out. Completing missions for Dooku was one thing, but Kenobi was her _friend_. This was different. This wasn't getting done because her Master commanded it, this was getting done for a man she greatly respected as a friend, a teacher, a...brother, almost. "When do I leave?"

"The Jedi are being recalled, so you have some time. If you want to do something in the meanwhile, I'll give you a ship and a division of my droid battalion and send you to begin laying groundwork on contested worlds."

She was about to respond when she quickly quieted herself, biting her lip and looking away from the Sith. "I'll need to return to Dooku. He'll be angry with me if I don't report in, as I said I would." She handed the datapad back to Kenobi and he took it, quickly clearing the information on Master Tholme from the screen and writing up a message.

"I'll send the file on the Jedi I want you to hunt to your ship, along with a message for Dooku detailing my plans. I'll have to stop by and see him at some point as well. Do you want to go together?" The Nightsister nodded, and with a groan, Kenobi slid off the rancor's head, planting his foot on one of the large, jagged teeth as he stepped off the massive reptile and the creature emitted a low, soft grumble. "I have things to do before we leave. Meet me for dinner later?"

"Absolutely, my sweet."

With a nod and a charming smile, Kenobi left the large living room, the alpha rancor Yoda lumbering beside him, its large, clawed hands dragging on the floor and occasionally using them to support its tremendous weight. He was heading toward a towering fortress that had once been a part of the Black Sun compound, the building having been incorporated into the palace that Kenobi had built, before serving as a fortified bastion that had now been re-purposed to hold Kenobi's own private quarters. At the top of the structure was a large, transparisteel dome, allowing for a view on all sides of the roiling lava rivers that ran below, causing the room to be cast in glowing red light, no matter the time of day.

It was there that Kenobi was headed now, rancor in tow, to speak with his Master over the holotable that he had installed in the center of the domed room. He wasn't in any hurry, though, and strolled at a leisurely pace, admiring the black obsidian walls, the intricately carved designs, the red and gold inlays that stood in stark contrast to the darkened halls and seemed to glow with the light of the lava that poured in through large, ornate windows throughout the palace. He briefly wondered if, after the war, he and Satine would rule from here, or if his Duchess would prefer the lighter elegance of Mandalore's Sundari palace. He supposed it didn't matter. It would all belong to him anyway.

He was met halfway to the tower by Commander Cody, his orange accented helmet under his arm and he saluted when he stood before the Sith. "Sir, I was just coming to find you."

"Well, the Force has a funny way of bringing people together." Kenobi gestured for the clone to follow, and Cody fell into step next to the Sith, eying the rancor on the blond's other side. "What can I do for you, Cody?" Obi-Wan asked softly.

"I came to report that the men are ready to fly at your command, my Lord."

"How is morale?"

"Very high, sir. They are glad to be free of the Republic. Each and every one of my brothers owes you a debt of gratitude."

"I don't need your gratitude, my friend," Kenobi purred, draping his arm over the clone's armored shoulders. "You know that I will be asking your boys to fight against the Jedi and their forces, yes?"

"We are happy to do so, sir." The clone looked away for a second, face serious, and, taking a deep breath, he quietly said, "Many of my men wonder if we can save our brothers that serve the Jedi."

"Mm, we can certainly try, but it may be difficult. They will see you as traitors." Kenobi shrugged. "You know how it is. They've been indoctrinated by the Republic and enslaved by the Jedi. But I assure you, I will do my best to save them, if it's possible, but slaves will defend their Masters."

"I understand, sir." He took a deep breath. "I told the battalion as much. We understand what must be done. We'll fight for freedom, no matter what, but if you can save my brothers..."

"I'll do what I can, Cody. But remember." He stopped, laying a hand on the clone's shoulder. "The Jedi and their armies will try to execute you all as traitors. Your desire for vengeance against the Jedi is strong, but if you are to survive, you will leave the Jedi to me. Engage them only if you must, but you will never be on the field without me. I don't want to lose my soldiers."

"As you command, my Lord."

Kenobi nodded. "Did you attend to the other matters we discussed?"

"Of course, sir." The clone stood, legs under his shoulders and hands clasped tightly behind his back. "The command deck of the Venetor-class Star Destroyer has been stripped of the Republic fittings and reworked, according to your specifications. It's also been painted in your black and red, sir."

Kenobi grinned. "Looks good?"

"Impeccable, my Lord. My men have been tossing around names for her, sir." The Sith nodded, but said nothing. "They like _Liberation_."

" _Liberation_..." Kenobi drawled slowly, feeling how the name sounded, and he smirked, nodding. "I like it. Have your programmers name her."

The clone smiled faintly. "I think they'll like that they got to name their ship."

"Well, it's yours as much as mine." Kenobi began walking again, this time at a brisk pace, the clone following easily at his side, the rancor putting more weight on its long arms as it walked. "We'll be on our way soon, Cody. Well done. Have you divided the troops between the two ships?"

"Yes sir." Cody frowned, his mouth pressed in a thin line. "Your clankers weren't happy."

"Mark any droid that disobeys you for destruction, and let them know you are doing so. I've been getting rusty, and I could use the practice. Feel free to tell them that disobedience will not be tolerated, and if they don't like it, they can bring their complaints to me directly." Obi-Wan sighed in frustration, running his hand through his hair as the three rounded the corner, the elevator into the tower directly ahead of them at the end of the hall. "These droids are so temperamental, I'll be glad to be rid of them."

"My boys wouldn't object to using them for combat exercises," Cody said, amused, and Kenobi smiled at that. Cody knew that the man was no Jedi, but he was still powerful in the Force, something Kenobi had shown to be neither shy nor modest about, but the clone liked the honesty. He also found it terribly easy to talk to the man, which he supposed should be expected by a man that was commonly known as the Negotiator. Speaking freely to Obi-Wan was proving to be just as easy as talking to his former Jedi General, Quinlan Vos, and much, much easier than trying to talk to the other stoic Jedi that he had contact with.

"I shall have to keep that in mind the next time I get the urge to destroy something." He laid his hand on a small screen in the wall, and the device scanned the patterns of his hand, the elevator doors opening with a hiss. With a mighty yawn that bore rows and rows of deadly, razor sharp teeth, the rancor dropped to the ground with a monestrous thud, stretching its long body along the wall before coming to rest on its side, big eyes closed in contentment and nearly blocking the entire hallway. "I imagine we'll be leaving in the morning. I wouldn't object to walking your men through close combat and stealth drills, if you're so inclined to do so. I intend to establish an infiltration unit out of your best, and we'll see if we can't begin to teach you how to use the electrostaff. We have a droid model that uses them, and they are...shockingly effective against the Jedi lightsabers. I want my men protected."

"I'll make the suggestion to the men, sir." He saluted, the clone's harsh face softening slightly when he looked at the Negotiator's golden eyes, sharp, but understanding. "...Master Kenobi. It's an honor to serve you."

A lazy smile spread across the Sith's face. "Cody, you are all Mandalorians. They may have made you in a laboratory, but that doesn't make you any less of what you are or what you came from. Your culture has a long history of standing against the Jedi, and making obedient slave soldiers out of Mandalorians is...reprehensible. I can help you reclaim your culture, if you wish it."

"I do, my Lord. I think we all do."

"Verd ori'shya beskar'gam. We'll make true Mandalorians out of you. Starting with the language. I'll give your men access to materials to learn it on the ship."

"Thank you, my Lord." The clone saluted when Obi-Wan stepped into the elevator, the Sith smirking and saluting in return, and the door closed with a hiss, swiftly bringing Kenobi to the top of the tower. The dome was bathed in red light from the lava flows below, and with a sigh, he tapped the proper sequence into the holotable to contact his Master, leaving the table to drop onto a seat where he could observe the flowing red magma as it oozed down the surrounding mountains. He could be waiting a while. Lord Sidious was busy often, especially in light of the mess that Obi-Wan had created for the Republic.

He took a deep breath, reaching into the Force to feel the legion of clones that were wandering the palace, tending to the ships _Negotiator_ and the newly named _Liberator_ , and he could sense their contentment, their commitment, their dedication. The 212th attack battalion was a formidable force, and thanks to a combination of clever manipulation and...something else, the force was loyal, fanatically so, without bearing the broken minds that so usually accompanied such a sudden switch of loyalties. He... _liked_ Commander Cody, more than he cared to admit, more than he thought possible. The clones may have been mass-produced, but despite his previous belief, the soldiers could be more than just that, if allowed.

"Lord Lumis," Sidious drawled behind him from the holotable, and Obi-Wan quickly stood, striding to stand before the clear, blue hologram of his Master, and he knelt, head bowed and eyes averted in respect.

"My Master. It's been far too long."

"It didn't need to be, but you have kept me _busy_."

"...good busy, or bad busy?" Kenobi looked up to find the Sith Master with a smirk on his face. Good busy, then.

"You are more effective than I imagined. But perhaps _too_ effective."

"Is there such a thing?"

"There is when we _want_ war, Lumis. A long, drawn out war that will thin the filth from the galaxy." Sidious exhaled sharply. "Discrediting the peacemakers was well done. It will be a long time before Bail Organa and his allies have any real power again. Amidala has put forth a motion to speak with you again. You will accept, but not in person. I need you to address the Senate directly. Peace is no longer an option."

"Of course, Master."

"I don't know what you did to cause the Jedi to withdraw, but _that_ is a problem. We want the Jedi in the field, we _want_ them to spread themselves thin, not gather their strength on Coruscant."

"...I'll see what I can do about that. I apologize, Master. I don't know why they withdrew. I'll draw them out."

"Hopefully our talk with the Senate will do the trick." Sidious' eyes narrowed in the shadows of his hood, and though he couldn't actually see it, he could feel the Master's displeasure in the Force, could feel the ghost of his touch on his mind. "I assume _you_ took the _Dauntless_."

"I did. The clones and I have outfitted it as a Separatist ship. We'll be ready to leave by tomorrow."

"The clones?" the Sith rasped, and Kenobi nodded.

"I've brought them under my control."

"Are you certain?" Obi-Wan nodded. "...with so many?" He nodded again. "And your control will not slip?"

"No, Master, they are mine."

There was silence, and Kenobi could hear the bubbling of the viscous lava, the clear hum of the Force, and the shallow breath of his Master, and he could feel the Sith's hand upon him, light and gentle as he contemplated the new development. Finally, Sidious managed a soft, "No more clone stealing. Not unless I give you permission. The chaos it creates gives us an advantage, but not if it will prompt the Senate to decommission the clone production."

"I understand, Master." It made sense, of course. One group of defecting clones could be called a bad batch. More than one, and the integrity of the Republic Army would be called into question.

"How did you manage this feat, Lumis?" Sidious asked softly, and Kenobi held his breath.

"I've learned a great deal from the holocron." The Sith Master nodded, a pleased smirk on his face. "And...there's something else." The smirk dropped, leaving the Chancellor frowning, the feel of his Force presence strained. "Something is programmed in the clones. When I reached into their minds and touched it, they immediately snapped into complete obedience and they had a strong desire to kill Jedi. It took some gentle suggestion to get them to be what I wanted after that, but it was easy."

Sidious hissed, and his Force grip on his apprentice became tight, leaving Kenobi gasping for breath and fighting off sharp pain behind his eyes. It wasn't a punishment. There was no hatred, no anger, no displeasure behind his tight grasp. It was simply a reflex. After a few minutes of silence and uncomfortable pain, the Sith Master quietly said, "The clones are grown with bio-chips implanted with a list of clone protocols. Contingency orders, if you will, that will allow me to gain complete control of the army when it is time for the Empire to rise."

"...you've altered their brains to comply with orders they would inherently oppose." Kenobi grinned broadly. "That's genius." The pain eased, and Obi-Wan breathed freely. "I apologize again, Master, had I known about this, I wouldn't have compromised the integrity of your plans by doing this."

Sidious waved him off. "Dooku and I failed to tell you this. You couldn't have known, and a single group can be easily dismissed. This can...work to my advantage." He nodded. "I shall make it work." He pointed an accusing finger at Lumis. "But _no more_ clones!"

"Unless I have your permission, I know."

"And only then. Though it is impressive that you have managed to tamper with the protocol. It's unlikely this unit will react when the command is given." He folded his hands before him. "Dooku has expressed to me your distaste for droids. I will make certain he orders the living beings enlisted in the Confederate army to serve upon the _Negotiator_."

"Or my fancy new Republic ship." Kenobi grinned when his Master frowned. "We call her the _Liberator_."

Sidious sighed. "Dooku has expressed frustration with your... _acquisitions_. He likens you to a child in a toy shop."

Obi-Wan shrugged. "I'm a Lord of the Sith, I take what I want. He's just jealous, Master. My palace is bigger than his, and now I have a fancy new ship."

Sidious groaned and shook his head. "Remain in contact, Lumis. I want you doing nothing until you talk with the Senate."

"...nothing, Master?" Sidious' frown deepened, and he could feel the strain of the Force once again. "I've been keeping a Jedi here, as you know. Master Koth. I was going to send him back to Coruscant with some of my clones. I feel he's ready to be reintroduced to the Jedi." The Master said nothing, but he felt the tightening grip relax and return to a gentle caress. "If we're lucky, than I think it may scatter them. No Jedi will want to stay in the Temple when there are Sith influenced Jedi walking around."

"No Jedi will want to stay in the Temple because they will be too busy hunting _you_." The Dark Lord nodded. "Do it. And when the Jedi come for you, capture them, kill them, break their minds, I don't care what your pleasure is, but I want to see the results when you are done."

Obi-Wan bowed his head. "It will be done, Master."


	31. The Jedi Council

For the first time in a very long time, the Jedi beacon had been activated, signaling for all the Jedi spread across the galaxy to return home to Coruscant. For as many Jedi as there were, the Temple had always seemed spacious and serene, but now, with all the Jedi home from their missions and the war, every hallway was crawling, every room filled with those that wanted to learn from those who had acquired new skills on their missions or catch up with old friends they hadn't seen in a long while. For the Masters, there was the vastly important matter of voting in new Jedi to sit on the High Council. Qui-Gon and Quinlan had both stopped by very, very quickly to cast their votes for Luminara, and then they were off to find said Mirialan and accost her with the details of their amazingly disastrous victory on Christophsis, dragging the hapless woman and her smiling Padawan back to Quinlan's room so they could sit beside Ahsoka as she recovered in her Master's bed.

"He did _what_ ," Luminara asked, deadpan, staring at her Jedi companions, and when none of them answered, she just sighed heavily. The day was going to be a long one. "Every time I hear about Obi-Wan, he becomes more and more..."

"...impressive?" Quinlan offered, and the other two Masters shot him a silencing glare.

"I was going to say bombastic. He certainly seems to have acquired a flare for the theatrical. That's changed, at least."

"Nah, he picked that up from me," Quinlan said in a matter-of-fact tone that made Luminara cringe. "And don't look like that, Luminara. Every time I talk, you look like that, and if you're not careful, your face is going to freeze that way."

Barriss giggled from the other side of the room, and her Master looked at the girl with piercing blue eyes, but the girl wasn't paying attention, nor was she listening to the Masters. She was engaged in conversation with Anakin, the two sitting close and whispering, and the Mirialan Master frowned. She's have to remind her Padawan of the dangers of affection. "Did you get the Council's directive for our stay on Coruscant?" she asked quietly, and Qui-Gon nodded.

"They asked me to teach the Knights about combating the Dark Side." He shook his head. "I'm unqualified for this, I've fought the Sith three times now, and three times, I have lost."

"You're alive, aren't you?" Quinlan drawled, his Padawan's head in his lap as he gently stroked her forehead. "That sounds like a victory to me."

"And you know Obi-Wan."

"I _knew_ him," the Master growled, his hand clutching tightly around his lightsaber. "My Obi-Wan is gone."

"I disagree." The Kiffar's eyes were closed, his face unusually serious for the light-hearted man, the thin burn on the side of his face very noticeable against his tanned skin. "He's Obi-Wan, all of him. The reserve and control is gone, yes, but he's what I remember." He laughed, his voice straining against emotion, and Luminara couldn't help but feel he was doing so to hide how hurt he was. "When you go to educate the Knights on the Sith, Quinlan, you tell them about Dooku, and you tell them about Obi-Wan. Everything you know about them. They need to know their enemy, and you know them both."

"You think the Dark Side didn't change him?" Luminara asked softly, and Quinlan shook his head.

"Well, sure, it's made him unrestrained. But if he wasn't angry, if he wasn't passionate, than the Dark Side would have nothing to grab on to." The Kiffar closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "He was always _very_ passionate. He cared so much about so many things, so many people! It's what made him great. But he felt deeply. Maybe too deeply, but I'm hardly one to say anything about that."

"You've always been close to the dark, Quinlan," Luminara said, and the man nodded.

"Too close, some would say. Sometimes I agree. And Obi-Wan used that against me. I felt..." He grit his teeth, running a hand through his thick hair. "I felt the pull of the Dark Side when I fought him, and he used that to get in my mind. A Jedi with _any_ inclination toward the Dark Side has already lost against him."

The Masters were silent for a moment, Qui-Gon and Luminara processing what the Kiffar had said, and Quinlan quietly tending to his Padawan. "He's controlled both Anakin and Ahsoka," Qui-Gon said, his face worried. "Do they-"

"No," Quinlan quickly dismissed. "They are Padawans, prone to arrogance and anger, and neither have the experience to shield against a Sith. They must be taught."

"Which is part of the reason we were all brought back," Luminara said. "You were injured, but he didn't kill you. Why?"

"He didn't want to."

"But _why_."

"Because he _loves_ me..." he purred, leaning in toward Luminara, eyelids lowered and slowly licking his lips. Luminara didn't move. She didn't even react. With a sigh, he drew away from her. She killed everything fun, always. "Killing me wasn't even an option for him. He adjusted his saber to make it non-lethal, just...unbelievably painful." His fingers grazed across his chest where a long, deep scar was burned into him. "He tried to...get me to join him." They were silent for a long while after that, and the only thing that could be heard was Ahsoka's shallow, even breathing and Anakin and Barriss whispering and giggling.

"Could his plan," Luminara whispered, "be tempting Jedi to the Sith?"

"It would explain why he hasn't tried to kill anyone."

" _Yet_." Qui-Gon sighed, his hand running through his long hair as he thought. "Master Yoda sensed murder in him, and I think it's a poor choice to ignore that. He will kill Jedi. It's only a matter of time."

"All we can do is share what we know about him," the Kiffar drawled. "We've all been asked to teach, and we will. Arming the other Jedi with knowledge may save them long enough to get away, or wait for reenforcements. That's the best we can do."

Luminara nodded. "It's...wise to have recalled the Jedi. The Masters must know something we do not."

Quinlan scoffed, drawing an irritated look from Luminara. "Yeah, all eight of them."

"Seven," Luminara quietly corrected, and the Kiffar groaned.

"Sith Hells, did another one of them die?"

"No, Depa Billaba resigned," the Mirialan said softly. "She wanted to give her full attention to the war effort. I don't think it effected her decision, but her sister was among the first victims of the Sith. She wants to see this through."

Quinlan groaned. "Great, so _five_ more prissy idiots to join the Council..."

" _Quinlan_!"

"I mean it! It's great that the old Masters are all wise and all, but we're in a war and fighting the _kriffing Sith_. And Kenobi is a seductive son of a bitch, don't think he will be the last Jedi to fall to the Dark Side."

"They have wisdom, Quinlan, that's what we need..."

" _No_ , we need Jedi that know the threat! This wouldn't have been a problem if those idiots had listened to Obi-Wan in the first place!" He snarled, dark eyes narrowed in anger, and he found the Mirialan and the human silent. Even the Padawans were listening. "We could have taken out Dooku, so no idiot Clone War! Obi-Wan could have sniffed out the Sith Master with the right support! He could have been on the Jedi Council by now if they weren't a bunch of morons and just _listened_!" Nobody said a word, and having gotten it off his chest, the Kiffar's anger fled, lost to the Force. With a heavy sigh, he quietly said, "We don't need a bunch of wise, imperious idiots on the Council. We need people that will challenge everything, question everything, until all angles have been observed."

"...maybe you're right," Luminara said softly, clutching her robes tightly in her hands. "Maybe that's what we need. The Sith have changed. The Jedi must as well."

Quinlan nodded and held out his hand to Qui-Gon. "Give me your lightsaber."

"...why."

He took a deep breath. "Because Luminara is right, we need to change things. We need to do things differently and consider avenues we haven't taken before." He pointed to the weapon clutched in Qui-Gon's hand. " _That_ saber is the weapon that killed Maul. It's the weapon that he took with him on his first trip to Dathomir with Luminara. It's the weapon he used during our time in Sith Space, and during the rest of our extended mission. And _that blade_ was on him when he fell." Quinlan grinned, but there was something serious and determined in his dark brown eyes. He put Ahsoka's head on the pillow and stood, hand out to the Master. "I can see it all. Give it to me."

"This isn't what I meant!" Luminara cried, not waiting for Qui-Gon to respond. "You know how dangerous that is! You said you felt the Dark Side's pull on Christophsis, don't willingly invite it to you now!"

"I'm not going to fall to the Dark Side, Luminara! That's why you two are here, you won't let anything happen to me!"

Luminara clenched her jaw tightly and was about to protest when Anakin softly said from his spot across the room, "He's right, Master. The more we know, the more we understand, the easier we can beat him, or resist him, or whatever."

"No, _no_ ," Luminara insisted. "It will only cover up to the point when he disappeared, we will learn nothing of his Sith training! I know you don't think he's changed, but he _has_! Six years as a Sith Apprentice will do that, and we have access to none of the information. It isn't worth it."

"Qui-Gon," the Kiffar said softly, his hand extended. "Please."

" _Don't_ ," the Mirialan said swiftly, stepping between them. "Not until we consult Master Yoda on the matter."

Master Jinn didn't know he was holding his breath until his lungs starting to burn. Breathing deeply, he looked at the weapon in his hands, torn on if this knowledge was even worth it. Yoda had said Obi-Wan's past didn't matter, but maybe-

The door slid open with a hiss, and Master Shaak Ti stood in the doorway, bowing deeply to the Masters, and all of them turned to bow in return. "How is your Padawan, Master Vos?" the Togruta asked softly, and the Kiffar took a deep breath, calming his racing heart.

"Master Yoda says she will make a full recovery. She just needs to rest, there wasn't much time on Christophsis."

She nodded. "I hear she was instrumental to the battle."

Quinlan beamed. "She was brilliant, yes. Better than I could have even hoped for. She even aided Skywalker in taking down a shield generator on the final day of battle." The grinning Master looked back to Anakin, who shrugged.

"It was mostly her, Master. I just happened to be there."

Shaak Ti smiled gently when she felt the tension in the Force slowly fade. "The High Council requests your presence, Masters." The tension, expectedly, returned. "All of you."

* * *

Master Yoda stood with the other Jedi of the Council talking quietly amongst themselves while Quinlan, Luminara and Qui-Gon entered, drawing the attention of Kit Fisto, a Nautolan Jedi Master of high esteem and fearsome lightsaber skills, and Adi Gallia, a Tholothian Master who was widely regarded as highly knowledgeable and highly aggressive. They smiled when the three entered, but the other Masters only silently inclined their heads. They wanted to be back to watch over Ahsoka, a task that Barriss and Anakin happily took, and none of them exactly wanted to be there, the three eager to begin teaching the others so they could bring a swift end to the war.

After what they considered to be a long, uncomfortable silence, the Council sat, looking at the five Jedi Masters standing before them. Master Windu sighed and pointed to the Kiffar. "You look like hell," he drawled, eying the long scar that ran down the length of his face. "Trouble with the Sith?"

Quinlan shrugged, smirking with a good-natured ease. "Hardly. My lover isn't so gentle with me anymore."

The other Jedi chuckled softly, the tension in the room easing. "It's been a difficult few years, Masters," Mace Windu sighed, a faint smile on his lips. "We've lost so much, and we can't continue on without the Council at its full strength." He took a deep breath, pressing his hands together and measuring his words carefully. "Once, ten years ago, a Jedi Knight came to us and told us the Sith had changed. We didn't listen then, but now, it seems we have no choice but to change as well. Your fellow Jedi have voted on their Council, and they overwhelmingly chose you five."

Kit and Adi smiled modestly, bowing deeply and quietly muttered their thanks and acceptance and gratitude. Luminara followed suit. And than Quinlan Vos and Qui-Gon Jinn started laughing. _Loudly_. The Council looked at them completely appalled, mouths hanging open and eyes wide, and Luminara just shook her head and turned away from them, a deep flush on her green skin. In times like these, it was best to pretend to simply not know those particular Jedi.

"This is a joke, right?" Qui-Gon asked between helpless laughter.

"It has to be!" the Kiffar responded, devolving again into another bout of laughter. "This is like voting for the ugliest girl in the city to be the Beauty of Coruscant!"

"I come in here and fight with you _weekly_!"

"This is like the time I told a fellow youngling that he would become a Padawan immediately if he could deflect a blaster bolt and hit the Master teaching us!"

"Hey, do you remember the time that my Padawan fell to the Dark Side and helped start a galactic war?"

"Oh, _oh_ , this is just like how you tell your boyfriend you're pregnant so he doesn't leave you for that _dumb slut Secura_!"

The two Masters continued their outrageous laughter, the other Council members just shaking their heads. Eventually, when Quinlan and Qui-Gon realized that nobody was laughing with them, their faces slowly dropped, the laughter dying and a deep flush coming to their cheeks. "Oh..." Qui-Gon said softly, swallowing a lump in his throat. "You're serious..."

When Quinlan had nothing to say, just stared at the Masters dumbfounded, Yoda indicated at the five empty seats at the end, and Master Vos rushed to choose the seat on the end so he didn't need to face Master Yoda and Mster Windu, the first because he felt he was a constant disappointment to the tiny Master, the other because he couldn't stand to look at another of Mace' withering gazes. Instead, he sat opposite the much kinder Kai-Adi-Mundi and Saesee Tiin, a hand on the seat next to him to reserve it for Qui-Gon, the elder Master slowly taking the seat, his blue eyes distant as if he could not believe what was happening.

When the newly appointed Council was seated, they began discussing the training of the Jedi against the Sith, a subject that Luminara had a great deal to say about, but Quinlan wasn't listening. He knew all this, and more, and he was profoundly uninterested in anything else but the feel of the chair he sat in. With all eyes on the Mirialan, he leaned over and poked Qui-Gon in the ribs. "This is some kind of bantha shit, isn't it."

"It's certainly...unusual, yes," the Master whispered, a small smile on his lips. "Obi-Wan always wanted this for me."

"I know. He was always so frustrated that you weren't doing what was required of you to earn your seat." Quinlan grinned. "He's going to be _so mad_ when he finds out!"

"I imagine he will be, yes. By the way," he drawled, leaning in towards the Kiffar and sending a sideward glance at the other Masters while they debated, grabbing Quinlan's hand and putting his lightsaber into it. "I agree with you." For the second time that day, Master Vos looked completely dumbfounded. "If we're going to teach others about how to avoid the Dark Side, than we need to know how Obi-Wan fell. We need to know exactly what happened."

"Yeah, things aren't the same as before. That sexy former Padawan of yours is changing the rules on us." Despite the serious nature of the conversation, there was a faint smile on Qui-Gon's lips, and for the first time in a while, Quinlan thought the old Master looked alive. "I don't know if we can bring him back to us, Jinn. You don't see it like I do since, you know, he hates you and all you stand for, but I saw him when he was relaxed. There wasn't any anger in him, no fear, none of the idiot things that they warn us about. But there was the Dark Side, and he was loving it."

"Maybe...he was always meant for this. Maybe this is just the will of the Force. We Jedi believe that the Force is always trying to maintain balance, but there can't be balance if there isn't darkness as well as light."

"...can the Jedi and Sith coexist?"

"Well, they certainly haven't been able to in the past," Qui-Gon drawled. "I doubt it's possible, but...maybe true balance can be achieved. If Obi-Wan..." Qui-Gon shivered and swallowed hard, the words in his mouth coming to him not without pain. "If Obi-Wan were Lord of the Sith...well, he's not exactly typical, is he?"

"Do you think," Quinlan said slowly, smoothly, "that an... _agreement_ could be reached between us? Do you think Obi-Wan would accept our help to kill his Master if it meant he would rule in his place?"

"...that may be something to seriously consider. He _does_ know who the current Sith Master is."

"Master Jinn," Mace drawled, his dark eyes bored and his head leaning on his hand as he stared at the new Council members. "Master Vos. You two have been very secretive. Do you have anything you want to say?"

Before the older Master could reply with something reasonable and well-measured, Quinlan Vos, Jedi extraordinaire, cut in with, "As a matter of fact, yes. We think we should make an alliance with the Sith." The anticipated reaction was chaos, and they weren't disappointed. Quinlan simply crossed his legs and smirked with amusement, watching gleefully as the Council became undone over an admittedly bad idea. However, it was _so_ bad, it could possibly be successful. After all, they had nothing to lose except for Jedi, and they were going to lose Jedi anyway. It may as well have been in the attempt of attacking the problem at the source.

They were arguing so heatedly that the Council barely noticed when the door swung open, but when Jedi Master Eeth Koth staggered into the room, leaning on two clones for support, the entire room fell silent, the Masters standing frozen in their place as if they were too afraid to move. Even Yoda was still, his eyes wide, his ears drawn back as he observed the lost Zabrak. Like Kenobi, he had been assumed dead, but unlike the fallen Jedi, they had a holorecording of Koth's entire Jedi team being killed by the cyborg Grievous. The recording ended before Koth's death was confirmed, but it was a fair assumption, as Master Yoda couldn't sense the Zabrak in the Force after the incident.

Taking ragged breaths, the Zabrak stood as tall as he could and said in a shaky voice, "I heard the beacon. Am I late?"

All the Jedi rushed to him, but it was Saesee Tiin and Plo Koon that put him in a seat and quickly set to caring for him, the Kel Dor Master laying his hand upon the Zabrak's chest and willing the Force to run through him, Master Koth gasping as his wounds were slowly healed. With the Jedi in hand, Mace turned to the clones. "I thank you for your help, gentlemen. Where did you find him?"

The clones saluted. "General, I'm CT-3423, and this is CT-2242, 91st Reconnaissance Corps. We were tasked with scouting Separatist worlds in preparation for battle. We found the Jedi on Clak-dor VII, the Bith home world."

Windu nodded. "You have our thanks, soldiers." The clones saluted and turned from the chamber, closing the door behind them. Immediately, the Zabrak was surrounded by questioning Jedi, and Eeth looked quickly overwhelmed. The Masters didn't back off until Yoda tapped his stick on the ground, using the Force to grab the Council members by their robes and pull them back to their seats.

Yoda smiled softly when the Masters looked sufficiently chastised. "Pleased, I am, to see you live, Master Koth." The Zabrak just smiled faintly, nodding his head toward the Grandmaster, and Yoda frowned. He was a great deal thinner than when he saw him last. "Explain, you must, what happened."

Eeth took in a shaking breath and closed his eyes. "You know what happened on Kabal." The Masters all nodded. "We thought to draw out the Negotiator, and we ended up with a monster."

"Grievous," Mace growled. "A cyborg. He leads the Separatist army now. You _do_ know about that, right? The galaxy is at war."

Koth nodded slightly. "I heard, yes..." The Zabrak shivered. "The Negotiator is Obi-Wan Kenobi. I saw him on Kabal, he-"

Yoda held up a calming hand, and the Master trailed off, looking down at the ground. "Know this, we do. Fight him, did you?"

He shook his head. "Not for long. I know when I'm outmatched. My Jedi were dead, and I..." Eeth clenched his jaw and looked away from the little Grandmaster while he collected himself. "I ran. The planet was crawling in Separatists, and Kenobi was after me, I...I managed to lose them in the riots, and I got on board a ship. I ended up on Clak-dor VII, and...I tried to make my way back, but the Bith have been Separatist from the start, and security at the spaceport was tight, especially after Antar 4."

"You heard of that?" Mace asked, his face falling when the Zabrak nodded.

"Everyone heard of that." He shivered. "Kenobi and Grievous were on my trail for some time. I had to hide for months before I finally lost them..."

"Did you learn anything about them?" Mace asked, hopeful again, but the Zabrak shook his head.

"I was running, not learning. I'm sorry, Masters..."

"Be not sorry," Yoda said. "For observation, we must send you. Gone, you have been, in these times of darkness. Desperate, a Jedi may become, when forced to run."

"Do you sense the Dark Side in him, Master?" Windu asked, and the little Master frowned, his big eyes narrowing.

"The Dark Side, I do not sense. But more to fear than the Dark Side, we have."

Koth nodded. "I understand, Master. I submit to your observations." The little Master drew his legs up under him, took a deep breath, and submerged himself in the Force, the Zabrak shivering as he felt the warmth of Yoda's touch within him, and he slowly began to lower his defenses. His breathing evened as he became accustomed to the feel of the Force once again, and slowly, he relaxed, looking around the room and smiling softly. "I see I've lost my seat."

"Only recently," Qui-Gon said softly. "Though when you are cleared for duty, I would be happy to give up mine so you may have it once again."

The Zabrak dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand. "Nonsense, Master Jinn. I...feel the need for meditation and reflection on what has transpired. I don't feel fit to serve on the Council." He bit his lip, looking away from the human. "I'm...sorry. About your student. He was a fine Jedi, once."

"I thank you for your condolences. You're right, he was." Quinlan looked at the man seated next to him and found the Master to be softly smiling, and the Kiffar couldn't help but be impressed with the way Jinn was handling this, when not too long ago, he would have fallen to pieces at the mention of his beloved student. Vos smiled. Despite what Qui-Gon seemed to think, it would appear that the aging human belonged on the Council after all.

"I lost my lightsaber on Kabal," Koth muttered to nobody in particular. "I'll have to make a new one..."

"We'll have time for that after you've recovered," Mace assured.

A loud, sharp whistle rang out in the room, and all the Masters looked to the sweetly smirking Quinlan Vos. "Are we done here? I have a Padawan to get back to, and-"

"You're on the Council now, Master Vos," Mace growled. "The needs of the Order supercede your own."

"But we aren't discussing the needs of the group, we're _fawning_." He crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm glad you're back, Master Koth. Truly, I am, but you've missed some _shit_. Obi-Wan's been running around and making an absolute mess of the Republic, and unless you have something to share about him, than we need to get back to work."

The Zabrak was silent for a moment, and little Master Yoda grimaced, focusing as Koth's defenses rose up. Finally, the Master managed a weak, "I did fight him on Kabal. But I was worn down by his friend, or droid, or whatever it was. And even then, he never seriously tried to kill me."

"This sounds really familiar," Quinlan drawled, crossing his ankle over his knee as he leaned back. "I bet he wouldn't shut up either."

"Yes and no. He said nothing of significance, but he did try to...sway me." He took a deep breath. "I did fight him for some time, but he injured me very early in the confrontation."

"We do know he's good with a blade," Quinlan drawled, holding up his arms to display the burned rings around them.

"You fought him too?" The Kiffar nodded. "Then you know what he does."

Quinlan nodded. "I do," he said, pointing to the other Masters. " _They_ don't."

Eeth closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before softly saying, "He divides his attention. It's like...he allows the Force to move his body while he manipulates the Dark Side to get within our guard."

"You're talking like he's one with the Dark Side," Mace drawled. "You can't be one with the Dark Side, that isn't how the Sith work. You can't be one with something you exert your will over."

"Of course you can," the Kiffar scoffed, glaring at the frustrated Windu. "He can, in any case. Light or Dark, the Force is the Force."

"The sides are _different_ ," Master Windu growled.

"No, they _aren't_. These are the sorts of dangerous assumptions that are going to get you killed when you face him, Mace! And don't think you won't, because he _hated_ you, even when he was a Jedi."

"I'm a better swordsman than he is, and I know his words are poison. I won't listen."

"No, listening has never been your strong point..."

"Are you trying to test me, _Vos_?" Mace snarled, rising from his seat, but the Kiffar just laughed.

"You haven't fought Kenobi, you ignorant ass, not now, not as a Sith Lord. I have, and he was just _playing_ with me. I couldn't even sense the Dark Side in him, so he was clearly in complete control, but when he loses it..." He whistled. "That's something I don't want to be around for."

"I've seen that," Luminara said softly, her voice even and measured and it seemed to placate the angry Mace. "On Mandalore, for just a moment, his control slipped. He regained it quickly, but for a moment..." She shook her head. "I've never felt such power. He dispatched Qui-Gon and I with no effort at all."

"Not only that," the Kiffar drawled, "but he got inside my head when I started using _your_ style, Mace. Vaapad is too close to the Dark Side to be used safely against him."

"...wait, you were using _Vaapad_?!" Windu growled. "How many times have I told you, Quinlan? You're too close to the Dark Side as it is to safely use it!"

" _Nobody_ can safely use it, not against him. If you do, he's going to kill you." The tension between the two Masters hit a breaking point, and before it could go any further, Yoda tapped his stick on the floor, the little Master having come out of his meditations. "The Dark Side in you, I do not sense, Eeth. Clear, your mind is. Tired, strained, yes, but clear. Focused. Close to the Dark Side, you have been, but taken you, it has not."

"Even still," Windu said, "I'd like to keep him under observation for a time."

Yoda nodded, "Agree with you, I do."

"I do as well," Master Koth rasped. "I just haven't felt like myself since Kabal. If anything's wrong..."

"We'll catch it if anything surfaces," Mace quietly reassured. "We called everyone back to prepare them to face Obi-Wan, and I think we have what we need to do that."

"I'm still in favor of an alliance," Quinlan drawled, the Masters in the room glaring at him, and Koth shivered. "If we can get him on our side-"

"We _can't_."

" _If_ ," he insisted, "then we will have everything we need to win the war. He can lead us to Dooku, he can tell us who the Sith Lord is, and without those two..." The Kiffar splayed his hands out in front of him. "Bam! No war."

"Are you forgetting the part that he's a _Sith Lord_?" Master Windu growled. "Killing Jedi is what they do."

"Not him. Not yet, at least, not until we make him. Send the right people and he'll talk."

"And we know his words are _poison_."

Vos scoffed. "Not to an idiot. Send me." No Master said anything. "We can't change him back, I get it. Master Yoda said his change must come from within, but the roots of the Dark Side dig deep. I'm willing to write him off as a loss, but Obi-Wan's fall was of _our_ making. _Us_. The Jedi did this to him. The fact that we're even talking about killing him makes us no better than the Sith. They just kill their problems too."

"It's not the same, it's-"

"It is the same," Qui-Gon said softly, his dark blue eyes regarding the other Masters with a sorrow that ran so deep, it touched the Force itself. "Quinlan's right. This was our fault. This was _my_ fault. We drove him to it, and we are responsible for him now. We are not Sith. We don't eliminate our problems. We're going to capture him, and we'll think of what to do from there." He nodded his head in Quinlan's direction. "He has Obi-Wan's lightsaber. He's going to have a look at it to see if we can better understand why he fell. We're going to need that knowledge if we're going to stand before him."

"...this is a terrible idea," Mace droned, and Qui-Gon just sighed, a slight smile on his lips.

"Do you have a better idea?"

"...no."

"Well!" Quinlan chirped, clapping his hands together. "Now we have that out of the way, let's talk about my good friend Obi-Wan Kenobi. He's got mind control," he started, counting on his fingers, "wicked lightsaber skills, a stolen Republic ship, possibly a battalion of clones, a hot, psycho Nightsister, a murderous cyborg, and a kriffing enormous pet rancor. Probably." He held up his seven extended fingers. "This many things, at least. Where do we start?"

Nobody on the Council had any idea how to answer that question.


	32. Whispers

Padmé Amidala paced restlessly back and forth across the conference room. All the other Senators had quietly taken their seats, nervously talking with each other or fiddling with themselves to seem presentable. This particular conference was not an easy one to arrange, and when Chancellor Palpatine had finally solidified it, the Senate broke into all its conflicting factions, quickly beginning to debate and vote on who would be representing their interests before the Negotiator.

Padmé had been the easy choice for the growing peace movement. After all, she had spoken to the Negotiator before, and had come back with a peace proposal and a cease-fire. The proposal, of course, had been debated without end in the Senate, though the terms had been both fair and agreeable. Nobody could seem to find a common ground on anything these days. However, after the Battle of Christophsis, a great many Senators who had been undecided on their position had flocked to Padmé's peace initiative. The battle ended in victory, yes, but thousands had died, both clones and citizens of Christophsis in equal measure. The Separatists had managed to successfully jam communications for a while, and by the time the Senate had reestablished communication with the Generals on Christophsis, the battle was nearly won.

Dooku had decried the battle an invasion, the brutal Republic flying in to take a Separatist world unprovoked, which was immediately discounted as Confederate propaganda, until the Separatist Council had managed to produce physical proof, the Articles of Succession signed by the leaders of Christophsis just days before the battle began. Bail Organa had taken the fall for it, seeing as it was the Alderaan Prince that had called the Republic to the planet, crying hostile invasion. Padmé immediately knew something was wrong. The rash, aggressive move was uncharacteristic of the patient, thoughtful Bail, and though he maintained his position in the Senate based solely on his nobility, upon his return, he had immediately set about to find a replacement.

Odder still, when Senator Amidala had sat down to discuss what had happened, Organa couldn't seem to remember. The man's eyes were distant, his memory hazy, and several times, he had to shut his eyes, grimacing as if he were in pain when he tried to remember what had happened. The entire thing seemed foul to Padmé, and as she watched the man that had been like a brother to her fall apart, she couldn't help but be reminded of the conversation she once had with Obi-Wan Kenobi over ten years ago. About the Jedi, about the Force, and about the power to change, to influence the way a person thought.

_That's a dangerous power in the wrong hands_.

He had agreed with her then. And on Mandalore recently, she had even asked him if he had the power to control her. He _did_ answer, but it was noncommital and vague, and he quickly changed the subject, and Padmé had the sinking feeling that Obi-Wan's were the wrong hands. _Something_ had happened to Bail Organa, and the young Naboo Senator had the feeling that it was the Negotiator. Her Obi-Wan...

She stopped and shook her head, trying to clear it of the image of her former protector, but she found herself unable. All she could see was his handsome face, his intelligent eyes, and she could hear him, that smooth, accented Coruscanti drawl, whispering to her softly, and her breath hitched as she remembered the last words he had said to her on Mandalore. She grabbed the back of her seat, biting her lip and eyes shut tightly as she struggled to slow her racing pulse, her excited breath, the warmth that swelled from deep within her and spread throughout her body, wrapping her in a pleasured haze. Obi-Wan had done something to her. She _knew_ he did. He had said before that he would never control her, implying that he _could_ , but he had been in the containment field. Still, she had believed him. Despite what the Jedi had said, Obi-Wan was very much the man she remembered. He was eloquent, diplomatic, reasonable, and over the course of the meeting, she had found herself slipping back into her old infatuation with the cunning former Jedi, and all on her own accord. After all, the Force held no power in that room.

Things had changed when he was released, though Padmé was inclined to blame Anakin's poor temper for the subsequent explosion. She saw a different side of Kenobi, then, one that was fearsomely powerful and standing on a thin, knife-edge of control, liable to slip at any time were his footing not so sure. Anakin had nudged him, and Obi-Wan had tumbled over the edge in a stunning display of raw power that even the non-Force sensitive Padmé could feel in the air, but he was quick to regain composure, steadying himself and apologizing for being drawn into conflict by what amounted to a wrathful, jealous child. And then he had bid her goodbye, whispering three words in her ear that set her mind ablaze with a singular focus.

_I want you_.

He had only said it once, but to Padmé, it echoed within her, over and over again until she thought she could bear it no longer. The former Jedi _must_ have used the Force, must have influenced her, changed her way of thinking, despite having told her that he would never do such. And yet, her feverish mind couldn't find a way to doubt him. She had _always_ desired Obi-Wan...hadn't she? It was true that she and Anakin had grown close, their rekindled friendship quickly turning into something that may have been more, something that she secretly hoped may be more someday, and on Geonosis, in the face of death, they had come out from hiding and expressed their attraction for each other.

She didn't see much of Anakin after that, but she remembered it fondly, and greatly looked forward to seeing him again. The nature of their friendship needed to be discussed, especially in light of the war and their diverging paths. A Jedi wasn't allowed to form attachments, she knew that. _He_ knew that, but they still had blazed ahead. And for her part...it would certainly hurt her standing within the Senate if it was found out that she was involved with one of the war's commanders, even as she argued for peace.

And then there was Mandalore. After that, every time she thought of Anakin, her thoughts would turn to Obi-Wan, and while her brief thoughts of Skywalker were sweet and innocent, they were nearly immediately replaced by an uncontrollably heedless, nearly violent lust for the former Jedi Knight, and it wasn't just then. During the day, a single word, a stray thought, the simple way something was said was enough to drive Kenobi through her mind as easy as a lightsaber cut through thin metal. At night, she would wake up in a sweat, her heard pounding, her blood rushing as a frantic, desperate lust consumed her and left her wanting and needy. She could barely stand to think of it at all, lest she be crippled by urges she thought herself above. He had to have done something to her. He _had_ to. Even if she didn't believe it, even if a voice deep inside her told her that this was the only thing she had wanted.

"Padmé?" Bail had asked softly, his hand on her thin arm, and her dark eyes shot to the concerned man. Palpatine had requested his presence, despite his apparent fault in the breaking of the cease-fire. An apology was in order, and perhaps the distraught Prince could get the explanation he needed. "You don't look well."

She smiled tightly and lowered herself into her seat next to him. "Nervous, I suppose."

Organa bit his lip, looking away from the woman. There was something he should have remembered, but like everything else, it was hazy. "You have no cause to be nervous. You worked out a deal with him before. You can do it again."

"I was alone before. Now..." She sighed, looking around the table at the other Senators. "There are a lot of people here who have no desire to come to terms at all."

"I know. But the Negotiator earned that name. Perhaps we can come to an agreement still."

She nodded, smiling at the older man, the holoprojector in the center of the conference room flickering to life, and moments later, the holographic visage of the Negotiator appeared before them, the cordiality of his previous contact dropped and replaced by cold caution. He slightly inclined his head. "Senators..." Eyes narrowed as he regarded Palpatine, carefully examining him as he took stock of the Republic's leader. "Chancellor..."

"Thank you for meeting with us, Master Kenobi," Palpatine said softly, his voice a thin, kindly rasp, and the Negotiator crossed his arms. Everyone knew the Negotiator's identity now, the name going down in infamy within Republic space, and hologram was making it clear that he didn't liked being called by name by Chancellor Palpatine.

"I hope you're not going to waste my time," Obi-Wan said harshly. "I have a _war_ to attend to, thanks to you." Several of the Senators began to protest, their voices rising to challenge him, and those sharp eyes narrowed, his mouth curling up in a vicious sneer. " _Silence_!" he hissed, and to everyone's surprise, the Senators obeyed, and Padmé felt a sinking pit in her stomach. _Nobody_ could stop the Senators from arguing. Was it possible that Obi-Wan could exert his influence without being in the room? She'd have to consult the Jedi on this matter.

"We were hoping to discuss what happened on Christophsis," Palpatine began, but Kenobi held up a dismissive hand, and the matter was immediately dropped.

"There is nothing to discuss. We had a deal, Chancellor, and your Jedi and your clones were called to _my_ world to free it! Free it from _what_ , Chancellor! Can the people of Christophsis not make their own decisions? Does the Republic stand for freedom from free will?" He scoffed. "I suppose you must, seeing as how you are using a _slave_ army."

Padmé could take it no longer, and the other Senators simply sat there, which she supposed was for the best. She slammed her hands upon the table and stood fro her seat, sharping calling, " _Obi-Wan_!"

The calculating eyes scanned the room until they fell on the Naboo Senator, and his harsh features softened. "Padmé. So good to see you again. _You_ must be disappointed by this, surely."

"I am. This shouldn't have happened, this was a mistake."

"I agree."

She took a deep breath. That was good. "Listen, we talked to Senator Organa at length, he-"

"He called the Republic down on us." Kenobi crossed his arms. "He was _there_ when the Articles of Secession were signed, Padmé." This time, the room began to buzz with quiet, confused chatter. They hadn't heard about this. Bail Organa couldn't remember it. She looked to the man next to her when he whimpered, soft and pitiful, grasping his head and eyes shut tight against pain. _Something was wrong_. Despite the quiet voice in her mind and against the warmth in her stomach that she felt when she looked upon him, Padmé's eyes narrowed at the Negotiator. Bail was her _brother_ in all things but name. She would not allow this former Jedi to ruin him.

"We didn't hear about that." Her temper flared when his eyes widened in shock, but his mouth parted in a faint, amused smile. "And it's not that he's hiding something, he _doesn't remember_."

"Well, the battlefield is a stressful place, especially for someone as pampered as a royal." He spread his arms and shrugged. "I suppose the stress of battle was too much for him."

"No, _it wasn't_." She pointed at the hologram. "You say he was there with you when it was signed? _You_ did something to him."

Silence hung over the room before the Negotiator's features broke into a wide smile, and he began laughing, rich and melodic and completely out of control. Palpatine leaned over to his fellow Naboo, his voice a hushed, nervous whisper. "Padmé, what are you doing? We wanted to try for peace, this isn't helping..."

She didn't answer. She didn't even look at him. Senator Amidala just glared at the hologram as he chortled, "You _are_ joking, right?"

"You can use the Force, Obi-Wan, and the Jedi say you're _Sith_."

Kenobi rolled his eyes, clicking his tongue in irritation. "Oh, _please_ , Padmé, don't be foolish. The Sith have been gone for a thousand years. Just because I'm not a Jedi anymore doesn't mean I'm _Sith_." He laughed amicably. "I just...wanted things that being with the Jedi wouldn't allow me."

"Like _what_."

He smiled ever so gently, his voice lowering to a soft, smooth purr. "Like love, Padmé."

Her breath and her voice and her heart all caught in her throat, and her head swimming as the intensity of his gaze seemed to pierce right through her. The soft drawl of his voice was all she could hear, and she had to bite her lip against the warmth that spread through her, close her eyes to get him out of her sight. He had to be doing something, he had to...but she could no longer find it within herself to say so. This came from deep inside her, and while he was aggravating her feelings, the emotions were hers. Bail covered her hand with his when he saw her distress, and while it was a comfort, giving her strength when she felt she had none, it did nothing to stop the pooling desire within her.

Kenobi smirked as he watched Senator Amidala's anger fade. His sharp eyes turned on Palpatine. "Your Jedi are doing _exactly_ what your Republic is doing. I disagreed with them and I left, and _now_ they seek to vilify me, even though I am the only one truly advocating for peace. They are just as corrupt as your Senate!"

"Master Kenobi, we can work this out," the Chancellor pleaded, his face gentle and placating, and the Negotiator simply shook his head.

"We could before. But now, the Republic has shown its true colors. If we meet again, I fear for my own safety. You may come under the banner of peace, but what's to keep you from arresting me, hmm? You just took Christophsis, after all."

"I give you my word, we-"

Obi-Wan scoffed, waiving his hand in a dismissive gesture. "Your word means nothing. I am, as ever, committed to peace, but you are committed to war, and duty obligates me to fight against the tyranny of the Republic. After all, look what you did with our _last_ peace proposal. You argued over it for _days_ , and then you attacked us instead of coming to consensus. Negotiations require both parties to talk, and you have no spokesman. Just a mire of inefficiency."

"The Senate has granted me emergency powers for this purpose."

"What," Kenobi drawled, "so you can send Republic ships to Separatist worlds _without_ Senate approval? So you're to blame for Christophsis?" Kenobi growled. "I'll have no dealings with _you_ , Chancellor Palpatine."

"Obi-Wan," Padmé said softly, shaking slightly, but she was in control again. "We found peace before, we can find it again."

"I don't know, you were _very_ hostile to me earlier."

"And...I apologize for that," she said softly, looking ashamed of herself. She _was_ ashamed. She had no right to take out her emotional upheaval on the cause of her confusion. "Please, let's begin again. We can meet on Mandalore again, we-"

"No." The answer left no room for argument. "I can't make them listen to a peace proposal again, the Confederate Senate is calling for vengeance for what you did to Christophsis. Even your friend, Senator Bonteri, is calling for war."

"...you know Mina Bonteri?" Padmé could feel her chest tighten when the man nodded.

"I make a point to know the government I serve. I was there on Raxus when they voted on how to respond to your atrocity. It didn't speak well for peace."

"...we can fix this, it was a misunderstanding."

Kenobi shook his head. "Once is a misunderstanding. But twice? That's a pattern."

"That's one misunderstanding for each of us." She smiled softly when the hologram flickered slightly, the man drawing up tall and seeming to hold his breath. Finally, he nodded.

"Fine. We'll try once again."

She grinned broadly. "I'll contact Mandalore, we can..." Amidala trailed off when the man rose a hand, his eyes narrowed, his handsome face hard.

"I'm not doing that again. I'm willing to meet you, but the terms will be mine."

Palpatine leaned over to the Naboo Senator. "This is unwise, we can't-"

"You are free to discuss the terms _after_ I finish wasting my time with you, Chancellor." Palpatine slowly centered himself in his chair, his eyes downcast, and Kenobi looked over the chamber with disdain. "First, we meet alone, as before. But we will meet in _my_ residence, and my personal ship will bring you there. I won't submit to a containment field again, so you can just forget about that right now."

"H-how can we-"

"You're just going to have to _trust_ me, Padmé, _that's_ how." The Naboo Senator fell silent, not for a second wondering how the Negotiator had known what the question would be. "You brought a company of Jedi with you before, but that's not going to happen again. No Jedi, no guards, just _you_."

"That's insanity!" Palpatine said, his voice strained with shock and outrage as he rose from his seat in a muted show of temper. "Nobody would ever agree to those terms." The Negotiator simply shrugged.

"Than we are done talking. You know my terms, Senators. If you ever feel compelled to accept them, you know how to contact me. Until then..." He smirked, his eyes seeming to glint even in the blue hues of the hologram. "Please, tell your Jedi commanders that I _greatly_ look forward to meeting them on the field." The hologram cut, leaving the room in dim light for a moment before the lights slowly brightened. The room erupted into frantic and outraged chatter, the Chancellor doing what he could to calm the room, but all Padmé could do was lean back and slump in her chair, eyes closed as she wondered what would come next.

* * *

It was late when Anakin Skywalker arrived at Padmé's apartment, the young Padawan easily getting access when C-3PO admitted him without question and with a flurry of friendly greetings, the droid's metallic accolades bringing the Senator out of her bedroom. With a bright smile, she threw herself at the Jedi, grasping him in a tight hug that he gleefully returned.

"I missed you, Padmé," Anakin said softly, and the woman squeezed him tighter. Anakin tensed. There was... _something_ about the woman that he hadn't felt before, not like this, not since he'd known her. He was under the understanding that the Senate had a _very_ rough day, but he hadn't been privy to the details. He was too busy training to find out. The whole Order was. "There hasn't been a lot of time to see each other, has there?"

She laughed softly, shaking her head. "No, there hasn't. So much has happened, but..." She stopped when the Jedi softly cupped her cheek, his face flushed, and with a small whimper, she managed to wriggle away from him. "I heard the Jedi were recalled from the war."

"Um, yes. Just for a little while. We're training. Obi-Wan's proving to be a greater threat than we imagined, so the Masters called us all back to give us proper training for fighting the Sith." She scoffed without intending to do so, her mind beginning to swim again. "...what?"

"You Jedi talk about the Sith a lot."

"Uh, yeah, because the Sith are the _problem_ , Padmé. Master Yoda thinks this whole mess is because of them."

" _No_ , this mess is happening because the Confederacy and the Republic can't agree on anything."

"...right, because Dooku's a Sith Lord."

"And Obi-Wan?"

"He's a Sith too."

Padmé's eyes narrowed in anger, though she couldn't explain why. Glaring at the confused Jedi, she stated imperiously, "You know, just because a Jedi leaves the Order, it doesn't make them Sith."

"...right, but _they_ are." Biting his lip, Anakin observed the woman, her posture tense, her pulse elevated, her...he shook his head. He didn't know. Touching her with the Force only yielded an absolute haze of emotions and confusion, and he couldn't work it out. "What happened, Padmé? You're not usually this tense or this angry. I'd like to help, if I can."

"Well, there's a _war_ going on."

"Yes, I know that. I wasn't asking about that, I was asking about _you_." He reached out to brush her arm, her soft skin warm, and through the Force, he could finally feel the sensation he couldn't place. It was _desire_.

Biting her lip and shifting from one foot to the other, Padmé quietly said, "We had a peace council with the Negotiator today." Anakin tensed. "It didn't go well."

"What, he was _here_?!"

"It was over hologram, Anakin, relax. If he was on Coruscant, don't you think you Jedi would seize him the second he set foot on the planet?"

"Oh, _absolutely_." She crossed her arms over her chest, and Anakin could feel her temper flare. She was a _mess_ , worse than he'd ever seen her. What could possibly have her angry and frustrated and lustful all at once? He stared at her, dumbfounded, for a long moment before the wheels in his head slowly jolted and began to turn, his blue eyes widening as realization dawned on him. His Jedi training didn't prepare him for emotional, hormonal soup like this.

"You know, the Jedi are undermining the peace process by targeting him! He just wants-"

"This is about _him_ ," he growled, his voice low, soft, and edged with danger. "This is about _Obi-Wan_." Anger flashed through him when he saw her shiver at the mention of the man's name, and he reached out with the Force, surrounding her with his presence so he could feel her every thought, her every feeling, and he wasn't going to let go. "I thought your flirting with him on Mandalore was a _negotiation tactic_! I didn't think...I-I thought we had something _special_!"

"Anakin, you're a _Jedi_ -"

"So was he!"

"Yes, _was_! He's not a Jedi anymore!" She huffed, crossing her arms, and Anakin felt his temper flare as hers did. Connecting himself to her possibly wasn't wise, but he had to know. He _needed_ to know. "On Geonosis, we thought we were going to die! It was emotional! For all of us!"

"You _lied to me_?!"

" _No_ , I didn't! But you're going to be a Jedi, Anakin, you're forbidden from these things! And I won't be the one to stand in the way of your training!" With a sharp gasp, the Senator tensed, and Anakin felt her flooded with warmth, her pulse racing as a soft, sweet voice whispered deep in her memory. Skywalker recognized it instantly.

"Sweet Force, what has he done to you?" he asked softly, stepping toward her, and she shivered, worse than before, biting her lip as she fought for control that was quickly slipping away from her. "He's in your mind, I can feel it..."

"He didn't do anything to me, Anakin!" she snapped. "I've always felt this way, when I was young, I _loved him_!"

"No you didn't, you barely knew him!"

"But I know him better now!"

"You really don't!"

"He's sweet, and he wants peace, and he's handsome, and he's _so much more_ than what I remember!" She tried to suppress a moan, but she spectacularly failed on that account, closing her eyes and looking away as the Sith's smooth voice echoed in her mind, again and again and again until it drove her to absolute madness. Anakin felt it too, the Force burning with passion and he felt himself grow angry, jealous of the Sith Lord that had quietly stolen the girl from under him. But he also felt the pooling, unbearable heat in his stomach that only grew stronger as visions of Padmé flashed through his mind, memories of the dreams the girl had of moaning and writhing helpless under the passionate embrace of the Sith.

Skywalker grabbed the Senator's arms much harder than he intended, his jaw clenched hard in anger, but his blue eyes dilated with mindless passion. "He's none of that, he's messing with your mind! You think that too, I can _feel it_." He growled, pulling her closer, and the hazy woman whimpered, shivering at his touch. "Trust your instinct, Padmé, you are right about him. He did _something_."

"T-this was always in me, he-"

" _Maybe it was_!" He snarled, temper rising further as passion gripped him. He knew the dangers of passion, but in this moment, that's all there was. The Dark Side wasn't here, except for the faint touch of it in the Senator's mind. Emotion wasn't _wrong_ , and Master Quinlan had advised him to just be smart about this. "Maybe you did want him once, and he is _preying_ on that! You're different now, _he's_ different now!"

"He's what I want..." she said almost mindlessly, and Anakin grabbed her face between his hands, snarling as he did so.

"Show me what he's done to you, Padmé, _show me_."

He had felt it before, the gentle insistence, the soft urging toward passion and physical euphoria, but now, Anakin could hear him clearly, that soft, smooth Coruscanti accent whispering softly to the woman in her mind, whipping her into a lustful haze, just as it was doing to Anakin now. It started softly, echoing in his mind and growing increasingly louder as each second passed until it was all he could hear. He tried to break away, draw himself out of the Force, throw up his shields, but the voice broke his concentration, pulling him in every time he managed to turn away for a moment.

He felt this before on Geonosis when he had fought the Sith. When he had been forced to follow his command. Like then, the Sith's orders filled his mind, louder and louder until he could hear nothing else, feel nothing else but the need to obey. The Sith had made him a slave to his will, just as he was doing to Senator Amidala now. Just like it was happening to him. _Again_. Anakin shook his head. He would not be slave to a Sith Lord, not here, not now, even though it felt _so good_.

"Padmé," Anakin managed to choke, his voice horse and heavy with desire. "We can fight this, we can-"

" _I want you_ ," she purred, her voice low and needy, and Skywalker shivered, the Senator's voice matching the words that ran through their minds without mercy or restraint.

Skywalker opened his mouth to say something, _anything_ that could have broken them out of it, but he had wanted this. Even without the command of the Sith, he had _wanted_ this. When he finally found his voice, all he could manage was a low moan that drawled, " _I want you_."

Their lips met in a furious clash, swift, clumsy hands mindlessly shedding the other's clothing as they moaned loudly, kissing and biting their way along bare skin as it was exposed, their frenzy drowning out the voice in their minds and leaving only a hazy passion that fogged their senses. All the desires they had pent up came bursting forth, drowning them pleasure and lust and passion until there was nothing left but each other.


	33. Possession

Commander Cody followed his Master's quick pace through the hanger toward's the Sith's personal cruiser, a sleek, elegant thing in black and red that Obi-Wan had called the _Umbra_. He had the clone technicians and the finest in droid engineering working on getting it outfitted with a stealth drive based on a prototype ship that the Republic had used with great effect in breaking the siege on Christophsis. His inside man, Slick, had managed to forward him the design specifications just before he was apprehended and arrested by his fellows. Kenobi didn't mind, of course. If Slick wasn't smart enough to get lost in a sea of identical brothers, than his name was poorly chosen.

"Will you be returning soon, sir?" Cody had asked, and the Sith at his side simply chuckled.

"I should be, yes. Within a few days. Why? Did I not give you enough to do in my absence?" The pair passed a company of clones unloading a supply ship that had arrived from the Malevolence that morning. Dooku had outright refused to comply with any of Kenobi's requests, still bitter from what he considered an embarrassing loss on Christophsis, and while he couldn't deny the requests that Sidious had made on Lumis' behalf, he _could_ deny Kenobi directly.

"If you want to act like a greedy child, _Kenobi_ ," Dooku had sneered days before, "than you can bother our mutual benefactor. I wonder how long it will take for him to grow tired of you as well." Dooku's lack of cooperation bothered Kenobi initially. After all, between the two of them, it was obvious who Darth Sidious' _true_ apprentice was, but he quickly managed to shrug the matter off. He didn't need Dooku to act as an intermediary in his affairs when he could go right to the source. However, he didn't want to deal with the Techno Union either, and instead had contacted Grievous, who was more than willing to lend aid to his amicable Sith companion.

The ship carried fifty MagnaGuard droids, personally trained and programmed by Grievous himself, to assist in the training of the clones in electostaff combat, the weapons carefully packed in large crates that the clones were currently unloading. There were hundreds of them, certainly enough to outfit several companies with a weapon that could combat the Jedi.

"No, sir, you've given us plenty to do," Cody said, eyeing the large transport as his men worked, a team of engineers running by to begin activating the Magnaguard. "The men are eager for battle, that's all. Gra'tua cuun hett su dralshy'a." _Our vengeance burns brighter still_.

"Jorso'ran kando a tome." _We shall bear its weight together._ He clapped the clone on the shoulder. Mando'a, he found, had come easily to the clones. Not just to Cody, who, despite their identical genetics, was smarter than the rest, but to the rest of them as well. Being adept at the language must have bled over from their original, a man Kenobi knew to be from Concord Dawn, a Mandalorian world. "Tell your men not to worry. I feel it too, we'll be out soon enough."

"I already did, sir. But they are restless."

Kenobi sighed. "Designate a droid company to the training hall. I know it's not the same as shedding _actual_ blood, but if they need to practice, let them beat on the droids."

Cody nodded, the two stopping outside the _Umbra_ just as the maintenance droids rolled off the docking ramp. "Sir, we're very close to Mandalore, the men have-"

"No," Kenobi said shaking his head. "Not in large groups. If you want, Cody, you can send ten of your men if they keep to pairs and _don't_ wear armor."

"Any ten, sir?"

Obi-Wan stroked his beard, yellow eyes slowly drifting over the hanger. "Send your best," he finally said. "The ones that advance quickest in their training with the electrostaff are permitted to go, at your discretion. But remember, Mandalore is a neutral world. If the people suspect that there are clones on the planet, it may spark a diplomatic incident, and we don't want that. Not yet, at least. _Not_ while I'm on vacation."

Cody smirked, nudging the Sith. "We wouldn't want that, would we, sir?"

"Not in the least. You wouldn't like me when my needs aren't met."

"Well, we will attend to the ones we can, sir." Cody smirked slyly. "You have a Mandalorian woman for the rest of them."

Kenobi chuckled, punching the clone on his armored shoulder. "You're in command while I'm away, Cody. Don't forget to feed the rancors. Contact me if there's a problem you can't solve on your own."

"There aren't any problems I can't solve on my own, my Lord. Have fun, don't wear her out too much."

"Te dala gotal cuyir dralshy'a kebise. Mando'ade draar shukur." _The woman is made of stronger stuff. Mandalorians never break._ Kenobi inclined his head when the clone saluted, and with that, he walked on the ship, pressing his hand on the control pad in the wall and the ramp withdrew, the hatch sealing with a hiss, and he settled into the pilot's seat, powered on the ship, and left through the large hanger opening, passing through the blue atmospheric barrier that protected the open hanger from the vacuum of space. Safely away from the _Negotiator_ , he pressed the accelerator forward, the ship humming as the engines engaged, flying just under the massive wedge-shaped length of the Star Destroyer _Liberator_. Even now, he was impressed with the enormity of the ship and the fine design, which was much sleeker than nearly every ship in the Separatist fleet.

He had anchored the ships in the Mandalore system in the orbit of the planet Shukut, the ships easily hidden by the orbit of the planet's thirty moons. They were far enough from Mandalore to not draw attention, close enough to get there easily, and the gas giant had no inhabitants to call attention to the Separatist vessels. Being a neutral system, Satine had forbidden Republic and Separatist vessels from passing through the Mandalore sector, which both parties had obeyed, the Republic out of respect for the Duchess, and the Confederacy for fear of the Negotiator's wrath. Obi-Wan had made it very, _very_ clear that Mandalore was off limits, and nobody wanted to test that.

The coordinates for Sundari punched in, Obi-Wan leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes, reaching out with the Force to feel everything around him, near and distant. His hand slipped within his robes and gently held the holocron, bringing it out and raising it before him, the small pyramid slowly beginning to spin, it's caps twisting off and the device opening, bathing the cockpit in a red glow, the smooth hiss of ancient Sith filling the silence. He listened closely, the Dark Side within him grabbing at the knowledge like a hungry beast and filling him with power so raw, so _real_ it was almost tangible. Obi-Wan could feel it, hear it, taste it in the very air around him. With the Dark Side, all things were possible. There was no limit to the power he could obtain, so long as he had the will to take it, the strength to control it. The Jedi spoke of Force potential, but it was nonsense. With the right mind set, even an unskilled Jedi Initiate could achieve real power.

Lumis had fostered several connections, ones that ran deep within him, so strong they were rooted in the Force itself, and if properly focused, he could feel them, sense their emotions, their presence in the Force that bound them all together. He felt Ventress, the woman impotently angry and in pain, no doubt the result of one of her training sessions with Dooku. He felt Eeth Koth, sequestered away in the Jedi Temple, his presence peaceful and contemplative, like a still pond. With a soft touch, he felt the Zabrak shiver, the calm waters of his mind rippling before again going still. He felt his rancor Yoda, the creature satiated and calm as he rested, surrounded by clones he understood to be his brood. And he felt his Master, cold and focused, deep in meditation himself. Kenobi didn't need to make his presence known, the Sith Master felt him there as soon as he had reached out. Sidious reached back, and Kenobi hissed, the holocron wavering in the air and nearly dropping as his focus faltered when his mind was filled with the warm, comforting touch of his Master.

He had been certain that the peace conference a few days earlier had gone exactly the way Sidious had wanted; if it didn't, he would have heard about it. Obi-Wan hadn't spoken to his Master since, but the man was clearly pleased, more pleased than what Kenobi could reasonably expect, from the way he was coaxed into lowering his defenses, the apprentice's mind erupting in euphoria from his Master's pleasure. Lumis eagerly drank it in, feeding the pulsing, hungry Dark Side the passion it so desperately craved. He could feel the bond between them deepen, as it always did when they were mentally in tune, and Kenobi leaned back, eyes closed and holocron floating before him, taking deep, shivering breaths as he allowed the raw pleasure to seer his nerves.

His Master's voice was little more than a thin, amused whisper, one heard not with the ears, but through the Force, like a quietly playing memory in his mind. " _What is your next move_?" With a smirk, Kenobi answered not with words, but with clear, vibrant images of himself and Satine in flagrante delicto, a carefree, playful response that Sidious responded to with amusement and a soft, " _Have fun_. _Contact me when you've had your fill_."

With a grin, Kenobi came out of his meditation, took the ship off autopilot, and pressed full speed to Mandalore.

* * *

It was early evening when he arrived in Sundari, parking the _Umbra_ in the royal hanger next to the _Coronet_ , and he disembarked, hood pulled over his head as he had done so many times before. The guards let him past without inspection or complaint. They had seen him often in the palace, knew their Duchess had given his ship the authority to use the royal facilities, so the assumption was that he belonged there. The palace guard long suspected that their Duchess had some secret, high born lover, someone she was clearly not supposed to be with, or else the honest Satine wouldn't keep him hidden from sight. They recognized the ship, the hooded man, the easy graced he walked with, and they all simply assumed that the woman's lover had come to call, and they let him pass.

It was a short, easy walk to the Duchess' bedchambers, and he entered the room without announcement, the door quietly hissing closed behind him, and he found the woman sitting at the long table in the living area, still dressed in the high-necked blues of her office, and heatedly debating something with the hologram of three men projected over the table. Business hours were, apparently, not yet over. He caught her eye for just a moment, the Duchess only managing a sideways glance and a small, secretive smile in his direction before diverting her full attention to her duty. With a sigh, he strode out of the room, out of the way of the hologram's range, and into the bedroom, throwing his heavy cloak on the bed, divesting himself of his shoes and dropping onto the couch on the balcony, his feet up on the rail, drawing out his holocron and leaning back as the pyramid opened. War left him so little time for study.

It took nearly fifteen minutes for Kenobi to hear Satine enter the bedroom, sighing heavily and shuffling around in her closets for a moment before she came out, her heavy, formal ware replaced by something lighter and much more comfortable. Obi-Wan rose, the Duchess smiling faintly and slipped herself into his waiting arms. He ran her pale, blond hair through his fingers, breathing deeply the scent of her that was so like the fresh, crisp Mandalorian night.

"I didn't think I'd see you so soon," she whispered, holding herself as close to the Sith as she could.

"Our last meeting was brief, I thought you'd have found it...unsatisfactory."

"No, no," she chuckled. "Hardly that. We just didn't have any time to _talk_."

He leaned down to kiss the Duchess' cheek as she drew away from him. "Well, we can certainly rectify that. I have a few days, if I'm lucky."

Satine arched a thin eyebrow. "You aren't busy with the war?"

"I am, but the Jedi have all returned to Coruscant. It's all just politics now, and I want no part in that."

"Have you stopped pushing for peace?"

Kenobi sighed, running his hand over his face. This was a difficult subject with Satine. "Neither side wants it."

"Yes they do, nobody wants a costly war."

"There are many who stand to _profit_ from war, my dear. Certainly on the side of the Confederacy. I'm sure the Republic has people like that as well, but I'm unfamiliar with them." He scoffed. "The Kaminoans, at the very least, are making _absurd_ amounts of credits."

"But that's surely a minority, Obi-Wan."

"Maybe so."

"So if the majority want peace, you must press for it."

Kenobi groaned loudly. He wasn't in the mood to deal with this. "I did press for peace. I negotiated a cease-fire, and the Republic answered with an invasion of Christophsis." He watched her bright blue eyes fall to the floor, her jaw clenched. She had heard of that and was clearly bothered. "Their actions have the Confederacy convinced that peace is not possible. Even their most reasonable are clamoring for vengeance, and you know where that leads."

"...since Christophsis, nearly two hundred worlds have joined my neutral systems." Kenobi held his breath. He couldn't decide if this was good or bad. It could work toward his Master's plans, but if too many systems favored neutrality, some of those worlds may need to be... _persuaded_ to join the war.

"Is that what you were doing?" She nodded. "It sounded awfully heated for a peace talk."

Satine waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. "Politicians. If things don't get heated, they just don't care."

Kenobi laughed. "Sounds like us." Satine laughed, smiling brightly at first, but it slowly faded until the Mandalorian looked perfectly ashen, reaching for her lover's hand, and Obi-Wan gently took it. "What is it, what's wrong?"

"...you do love me, Obi-Wan." The Sith bit his lip. It wasn't a question, but there was doubt in her soft voice. He took both her hands in his and brought them to his lips.

"Always, Satine. _Always_. Akay te tuur Ni ash'amur, Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum." _Until the day I die, I will love you._

She closed her eyes, face serene and breathing deep and even. When she met his golden gaze again, the Duchess steeled herself and said, stronger than she felt, "I want you to leave the Sith."

Obi-Wan stared at her, head tilted slightly to the side, mouth hanging open slightly and the need to breathe completely forgotten. Time ceased to exist. Sith Hells, the Force itself ceased to exist. _Leave_ the Sith? Why? It didn't make any sense. Why would Satine even want that? They weren't like the Jedi, they didn't stop him from _anything_ The Sith permitted basically anything his heart desired, encouraged him to follow his passions, regardless of where they led. The Sith allowed them to be together, what was even the point of leaving?

When Kenobi felt time slowly revert to normal, it was like coming out of hyperspace in a ship that was far too small to regulate the inertia of the exit. The air was nearly knocked out of him, and he caught himself staggering back like he had been shot. A nervous, twitching smile came to his lips, and Obi-Wan couldn't help but laugh. The Duchess just crossed her arms, her blue eyes cold, her face serious, and Kenobi slowly stopped. She was _serious_.

"Why," he started, slowly testing the waters, "would you want that?"

"They _hurt_ you, Obi-Wan."

"Sweetheart, they don't _hurt_ me." He should have seen it coming for how often it seemed to happen, but her open hand struck him across the face, the spot red and stinging almost immediately. " _You_ do, however..."

"If you lie to me again, I'll do worse than hurt you."

He chuckled softly. "Ke nu'jurkadir sha Mando'ade, eh? You've always been a warrior at heart."

"I've seen the scars on your body, Obi-Wan, scars like that don't come without pain!"

"I've told you a thousand times, lightsaber burns scar dark, they're not so bad as they look!"

" _Why do you even have those_?!" His Satine was angry, much more so than he had even seen before, and he shut his mouth, silently observing her instead. She was simply... _worried_. He understood, she needed to express this, and it would all blow over. She would be reasonable again after she expressed her fear, her frustration, after they had joined together so she could find release in his embrace. War was stressful, even for those not involved. _Especially_ for those not involved, if their loved ones were.

"I like that we're together, Obi-Wan," she started again when the man didn't answer. "I'm even...pleased that you left the Jedi so you could be free to love. But to join the _Sith_...could you not just leave the Jedi, why did you have to join them!"

Kenobi's yellow eyes appraised her, the blue eyes intensely narrowed, her thin, bare arms crossed over her chest, her entire being expectantly waiting. She wouldn't continue until she had an answer. "Joining the Sith wasn't just about leaving the Jedi. They offered what I wanted. They gave me the family I lost with the Jedi, they promised me unlimited power through the focus of my training in the Force."

"Is power so important."

"It is to me, yes," he growled, fist clenching at his side. "Important enough to give up the Jedi, important enough to endure the pain I have. And knowing what it takes to achieve that power, I'd do it all again. _All of it_."

"They are _torturing_ you, Obi-Wan," Satine said, her voice quivering with emotion. "I never wanted you to be hurt, I never wanted this for you. You say the Sith replaced your Jedi family, but _I_ am your family."

"...Satine, that's different, it's-"

" _It isn't_!" she snapped, the woman's temper flaring again. "Aliit ori'shya tal'din. You are family to me, Obi-Wan. You're powerful enough, you don't need the Sith." She reached out and took one of his cold hands in her own shaking ones, feeling the rough calluses that came from thousands of hours of tireless lightsaber training. "Please. Leave them. Now, before the war truly begins. I don't want you hurt, I don't want you in danger, I don't want you killed in this senseless war!"

"I won't die, Satine, I'm-"

"I _know_ you're powerful. More than I know, I'm sure. But the thought of you out there..." The woman looked away and whimpered, a sound that he rarely heard the strong Satine make. "I can't bear the thought. I want you _here_. Safe. We can be together always, we can start a family. Vi Ru'kel gotal'ur kovid, mesh'la ade, Obi-Wan..." _We would have strong, beautiful children._

Kenobi took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Was this something he could do? Could he abandon the Sith and spend the rest of his life here with Satine? Were he to do so, his life would certainly be very, very short, as would hers. Sidious would not allow him to live after such a betrayal, and nor should he. Betrayal should be met with death, or worse, if possible. Force knew he had his own plans for the Jedi that betrayed him.

But the thought was... _appealing_. Not about leaving the Sith, but the idea of being with Satine as a _family_. Before, his life was a secret, but now, the name Obi-Wan Kenobi was all over the galaxy, a name to be respected and feared, depending on who was asked. Now, his connections with the Confederacy required a little discretion, as revealing who was in Satine's bed could ruin her place as a peacekeeper, and he wouldn't tarnish her name. After the war was over, however, when the galaxy was united under the strong hand of Sith rule, there would be no reason to hide. Satine could be his queen, and they could rule _together_. He imagined it before, but he never actually thought about it, and now that he was, he desperately wanted it. Satine was correct. They would have beautiful, _strong_ children, future rulers of a Dark Side empire if Sidious hadn't unlocked the secrets of immortality first. They would be strong in the Force, all of them, and he could teach them all he knew, creating a legacy of Sith that would last _forever_...

Kenobi slowly shook his head. This future was only possible through the power of the Sith. He opened his eyes, looking at the lovely woman, and the Dark Side growled in warning. Kenobi had _always_ heeded the warnings of the Force, and now was no different. "Why bring this up at all, Satine?" he purred, his long fingers running over the soft skin of her shoulders. "You've never complained before."

"I have _never_ like to see you hurt, my love."

"I don't hurt. I told you they don't hurt. And when they do, it is necessary."

"I know, but I worry. Even Qui-Gon was worried, he-" Satine gasped sharply when the Sith's long, strong fingers dug into her skin, his grip crushing and she could feel her light arms already begin to bruise. She looked up to see those golden eyes blazing with fury, the fine face periodically twitching as he struggled to control the rage that threatened to control him.

"You spoke to Qui-Gon?" he asked sweetly, his accented voice smooth and soft, but Satine could feel the malice dripping off his words. She hadn't seen this side of him before. With her, Obi-Wan was always sweet and gentle and loving, even when they shared in rough and nearly violent intimacy, it was always driven from passion. But now, she could see _actual_ violence in those blazing eyes, a deep and raging hatred that coursed through her lover and made her instantly believe what Qui-Gon had said. The old Jedi had said Obi-Wan had blood on his hands. She had defended her lover fervently, but _now_...now, as she looked into those glowing yellow eyes, she saw _murder_.

"H-he was worried about you, Obi-Wan," she stuttered, her body running cold as the Sith Lord's grasp on her loosened, his long-fingered hands possessively stroking her neck and shoulders, his entire body trembling as he struggled to hold his rage in check. "He knows what it's like to be with the Sith, he-"

" _He doesn't know anything_!"

Satine flinched, biting down on her lip, watching her lover's face twist in rage until he settled back into a tenuous ease, a smirk on his lips, but the golden eyes filled with a promise of future violence. "He just wants you to be safe, Obi," she said softly when she felt it was safe to speak. "He knows you're through with the Jedi, he just knows the Sith hurt you, and he doesn't want you to be hurt. He doesn't even care that you study the Dark Side, he just wants you to be safe and happy." Kenobi hardly moved, and Satine took it as a sign to continue. "You were close once, my love, he was like a father to you. We both just want the best for you, we don't want to see you tortured."

Slowly, Kenobi began to chuckle, a soft, light thing that grew to be strained, manic laughter. Satine backed away from the man, observing him carefully and not daring to breathe, and for just a moment, she could have sworn she saw the Sith's clenched hand surrounded in glowing blue static sparks. She must have blinked, for in the next moment, the Sith Lord was standing right in front of her, his elegant hands cupping her face and those golden, raging eyes glowing with sinister delight. Satine tried to move away, but found her body did not obey her.

"My Satine..." Lumis purred, running his thumb over her high cheeks. "Qui-Gon shouldn't have meddled in my affairs. Using my lover to get to me..." Kenobi hissed, jaw clenched tightly in anger for a moment before he relaxed, laughing softly and drawing the woman against him. "Don't you worry...I'm going to fix this..."

The Duchess gasped, her chest tightening as she felt Obi-Wan enter her mind. He had done this in the past, often enough to know it was happening, and almost always when they were joined together. He had taught her to feel when he wrapped his presence around her, warm and comforting, and the sensation filled her with euphoria, leaving her feeling nearly drunk with lust, driven from feeling his pleasure as well as her own. But _this_...that was nothing like it. Instead of the comforting embrace of his presence, she felt _cold_ , shivering as shadowy hands carefully pawed through her mind, memories long since locked away playing out before her eyes in quick succession as he touched them. His quick perusal left her feeling dizzy, and without warning, her legs gave way. Kenobi easily caught her, one arm holding her up and the fingers of his other hand sliding into her hair. The Duchess groaned softly, her hands grasping at his chest and balling into the folds of his tunic.

"Obi-Wan..."

"Hush, my love. Don't fight it, this will just take a moment." Lumis found it. The recent memory of his former Master's discussion with Satine. The woman in his arms whimpered softly as the memory played before her, her bright blue eyes dulling as the Sith slowly, carefully used the Force to alter the offending discussion, turning the brief reunion from a discussion on Obi-Wan's Sith lifestyle to a cordial one regarding Mandalore's neutral policies. It was a simple thing to do, and his lover would suffer no damage from this in the least. Satine shivered, and Kenobi picked her up and carried her to the bed, laying her down upon it. There was only one thing left to do.

He stroked back her hair, the Duchess softly gasping, her eyes unfocused as her memories were rearranged. "We're just going to forget that I was here," Lumis drawled, a gentle smile on his lips when the clouded blue eyes met his gold. "Without Qui-Gon's _filthy_ influence on you, everything will be right between us..." He took her memories of the past half hour in the hands of the Force, and with a quiet command, he faded himself from her mind, her memories replaced with images of her peacefully alone in the temperate early evening. When the Duchess's hazy eyes closed, he took his boots and his cloak and tossed them onto the couch in the living area and left her rooms, the door hissing closed behind him as he stood in the open, empty hallway.

The power of the Dark Side was so strong that the hallway darkened, the lights lining the long corridor going out and the moonlight filtering in from the windows suddenly smothered. Lumis hadn't felt rage like this since he fell, but then, he was a child playing with things he didn't understand. _Now_ , his wrathful presence in the Force attracted the Dark Side to him like a swirling vortex, a nexus of the Dark Side of the Force that made the soldiers patrolling the halls on that floor drop to their knees all at once, their weapons clattering harmlessly to the floor as they clutched their throats, blood boiling in their veins, but unable to scream. He could feel their lives in his hand, writhing and delicate and so easily snuffed out, and he could feel his Satine in the room behind him, her presence resting and peaceful and completely unharmed, because he never _could_ harm his Duchess.

How _dare_ Qui-Gon meddle in his affairs. He had no right to his things, and Satine was _his_. He never wanted to do any of this to his perfect, beautiful lover, and the Jedi had forced him to by _poisoning_ her against him. Death was too good for Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn. A part of him had always respected his old Master, yearned for his understanding, one day hoped to stand beside him on the Dark Side, but _now_...

Master Jinn would die last. Obi-Wan's revenge wouldn't be complete until the Jedi Master had watched as his former student had taken _everything_ away from him. The Jedi Order, his precious Skywalker, all the friends he held dear, they would all be turned to the Dark Side, or they would die, and so help him, Lumis would make Qui-Gon _watch it all_.

The lives in his grasp became dim, and, having resolved himself to a course of action, he released his hold on the Force, the Dark Side hanging oppressively around him as if waiting for the command of its Master, and the lives he had held sparked with life, slowly burning bright as the Sith reentered Satine's chambers. His long strides took him right to the bedroom, the Duchess laying just where he had left her, rolled on her side and blue eyes closed, breathing deep and even in her light sleep. He lightly ran his hand over her bare shoulder, and the woman's breath hitched, groaning softly as her blue eyes fluttered open. She focused on the man sitting next to her, and with a gasp, she shot up and threw her arms around his neck, tucking her head into the crook of his shoulder and gently kissing the pit of his throat.

"I didn't think I'd see you so soon," she whispered, holding herself as close to the Sith as she could.

"I can't stay away from you, my love," Kenobi whispered, kissing her ear and a jolt ran through his body when she gasped, moving closer to him and laying her little hand on the inside of his thigh. "Early night?"

"I guess so," she mumbled, nuzzling against his chest. "After Christophsis, there has been so much to do. I suppose I didn't realize how tired I was, I was just going to lay down for a moment..."

"You're overworked, my dear..." the Sith drawled, pulling the thin woman into his lap. "You need a break. Can you afford a vacation?"

"Can I ever?"

He chuckled softly, pressing his lips to her flushed cheek. "I was planning on staying for a few days, but if you're too busy..."

"...a few days off may be appropriate," she said softly, a sly smile on her lips. "I've been running myself into the ground, I _may_ be coming down with something."

"Mm, we can't have that..." Kenobi sighed as she wriggled closer to him, the feel of her slender body against his sending waves of desire through him. _This_ is what it should have been before, this is what it would have been had that Jedi scum not tampered with his things. He drew her tightly against him, his long-fingered hand running possessively through her pale blond hair as he bent to kiss her long neck, her bare shoulder, growling softly when her soft gasps melted into pleasured moans.

Satine eagerly removed her clothing when the Sith pressed insistently on the straps on her shoulders, her body flushed and her breath catching in excitement when he pressed her back on the bed. Kenobi stood back, looking at her appreciatively, lightly brushing his long fingers affected with a hint of the Force over the length of her body that was his dominion, and the woman shivered with the cool, burning sensation.

"I think a few days away from everything will do us some good," he whispered, his fingers drifting lazily across her thigh, and the Duchess glared at him.

"You keep this up, and I'm going to disagree." Obi-Wan chuckled, laying a soft kiss on the squirming woman's stomach and slowly working his way up to her lips, his body covering her own, the soft feel of her silken robes making Satine frantic and feverish in her passions. A few days was all Lumis needed to make certain that Satine was his, free of the influence of the traitorous Jedi. By the time he was done, Duchess Satine Kryze would know she was property of Darth Lumis, Lord of the Sith. The Jedi had come between him and his treasured possessions for the last time, and that would be their final mistake.


	34. Lost One

For two days, Anakin Skywalker had been sequestered away with Qui-Gon and Master Yoda, and he was finally beginning to feel like himself again. After what had... _happened_ with Padmé, when he was in his right mind once again, he had left the Senator's bed in a hurry and rushed himself as quickly as he could to the Jedi Temple. Qui-Gon was fast asleep when his young Padawan had thrown himself upon the bed, jolting the Master awake with his nervous, frantic cries and pleads for help. Anakin was lost, and he needed guidance to find the path again.

Qui-Gon had listened attentively as his student retold the events of that night. How he had gone to Padmé that evening because he had missed seeing her, how he could feel immediately that something was very wrong, how they had fought about Obi-Wan, how he had connected herself to the Senator's feelings to find that the Sith Lord Kenobi had been there first. After that, it was a bit of a blur, but Qui-Gon understood that the influence of the Sith had pulled the two towards intimacy, which they rushed into with frantic abandon. It wasn't that he didn't want it, Anakin had explained. It was that he felt _compelled_. Were the Senator to offer herself to him, he confessed he would have taken the opportunity gladly, but that wasn't what had happened. Padmé had been coaxed into a mindless lust by the soft accented drawl in her mind, and, linked to her, Anakin had been pulled in with her.

It felt wrong, and it wasn't what Skywalker had wanted, and though the tampering was in Padmé's mind, not his, Anakin had felt that the Sith Lord now had even easier access to him, if he so wished it. He needed help to keep Kenobi out, because Anakin knew that he would face him again. He had seen it through the Force, on a planet bathed in red, a red blade clashing against a blue and the Dark Side a swirling tempest around them.

Qui-Gon knew when he was out of his depth, and Anakin's troubles were beyond his skill to aid. Throwing on his robes, he commanded his Padawan to wash while he made arrangements, and fifteen minutes later, Master and student were on their way to Yoda's personal quarters. It didn't take Yoda long to begin asking Anakin questions that Qui-Gon didn't fully grasp the meaning of, questions about the control of his anger, the management of his emotions, and while these things seemed like normal questions given the problem, Anakin and Yoda had clearly talked about this before. He finally realized that his student and the Grandmaster had been working together in order to turn the tables on Obi-Wan Kenobi, attempting to get into the Sith's head and slowly corrode his control to reveal his true colors. Anakin had been at the heart of Obi-Wan's fall, after all, and it was through him that the Sith was the most raw, the most temperamental and the most dangerous. But in this, he was also the most vulnerable. If they could control how and when the Sith had his violent outbursts, they could defeat him.

And the next few days were like that, Anakin and Yoda working on carefully placed loss of control, only to quickly reel it back in. It was, in a sense, the ultimate control over the emotions, when they were permitted to run free for only a moment without inviting the Dark Side, and then quickly capped, the Jedi maintaining peace whenever it was desired. Qui-Gon had learned how to help Anakin achieve this sense of peace, as Yoda deemed it dangerous to do alone, and Skywalker leaned heavily on his Master for support. The Padawan loved and respected Qui-Gon, far beyond the normal bond of teacher and student, and while Yoda did caution the Jedi to remain vigilant of their attachments, the Grandmaster did not discourage it, insisting that it was important to find light in these dark times.

Now, the three Jedi sat on a comfortable rug on the floor, Yoda's three-toed feet clasped together as he observed Jinn and Skywalker. "Clear, your mind is," the Grandmaster rasped, and Anakin nodded.

"Yes, Master."

"Understand, do you, what has happened to the Senator?"

"I'm not sure," Skywalker mused, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "I know Obi-Wan was in Padmé's head, but...I didn't feel his presence."

"Obi-Wan's presence, we cannot sense. Provoked, he must be, to feel the Dark Side in him."

"Can he control people from far away?" Skywalker asked, and Yoda frowned.

"His ally, is the Force. Possible, anything is."

"That would be _very_ bad, if he could control people from across the galaxy," Qui-Gon mumbled, but Anakin shook his head.

"I don't think that's what happened. I know we can't sense him, but...when he was in my mind on Geonosis, it was different. I could... _feel_ him in my mind, it was like something was crawling inside my head. I didn't feel that this time. It was just his voice. Much more like the mind trick than actual mind control."

"Fight it, can you?" Yoda asked, and Anakin bit his lip and looked away, thinking for a moment before he turned back to the Master.

"I think so. Not with..." He swallowed hard. "Not with Padmé, I'm...too attached. Another Jedi needs to be assigned to her. She needs help, and it needs to be a good one."

"A Jedi in the Senate, we must have," Yoda agreed, his ears perking up. "Long ago, a Jedi, Obi-Wan was. Then, search for the Sith, he was tasked with. Found them, he did. Both, before he fell." Yoda groaned, closing his eyes as he thought. "Believed, Obi-Wan did, that Sith control the Senate. If correct, he was, than in danger, we all are." He pointed one of his three fingers at Anakin. "Explains Padmé's state, it does."

"...why would the Sith want her?" Anakin asked, his voice tight.

"Know that, I do not. Clouded, the Dark Side has made our visions."

"This changes a great deal," Qui-Gon said softly. "For those without the Force, there is no protection from the Sith. But _we_ need to be out fighting a war. We can't stay here, because Obi-Wan's out there. We can't leave, because there may be a Sith in the Senate..."

"It's hard to find the right path, Master."

"Jedi, there will always be, in Coruscant. Observe the Senate, we will. Skywalker." Anakin sat up straighter. "Powerful you are, in the Force." The teen smiled until he found Yoda's stick pushed against his chest. "But attached, you easily become. Dangerous, it is, for a Jedi. Know this, you do. Controlled by the Sith, you were. _Twice_ , because of attachment. Because of anger."

"...I know. It won't happen again."

"Strong, you are, Skywalker. But stronger, you are, with Qui-Gon. In pairs, Jedi work. In groups, we grow. Together, strong we are."

Anakin grinned brightly, his Master giving him a sidelong glance, his lips turning up in a small smile. "We'll pass on what we learned here to the others," Qui-Gon said, taking Anakin's hand when the boy jumped to his feet and allowed the Padawan to help him up. "The more we learn about the Sith, the worse it gets."

Yoda shook his head. "Long we have waited, and stronger, Obi-Wan has grown. Wait, we do. Patient, we are. But study, Obi-Wan does. Stronger and stronger, he becomes. The diligence of a Jedi, he has. Stop him, we must."

Both Jedi nodded, and they swept out of the room, leaving the tiny Jedi to his meditations. The door had barely shut behind them when Qui-Gon grabbed hold of Anakin's braid and pulled it so hard he was knocked off balance.

" _Ow, hey_!"

"I knew you had feelings for the Senator, but like _this_?!"

"Look, I said I was sorry! I am! Really, that's not how I wanted to take her!" Qui-Gon rolled his eyes when Anakin shut his mouth, his complexion turning fierce red. "Well it doesn't matter, I can't go to her now! If Obi-Wan doesn't know what happened between us, than _someone_ does! I can't drag her into the Jedi's battles, not if it puts her in the sights of a Sith Lord!" Anakin crossed his arms. "Sith Hells, I bet you didn't go around pulling _Obi-Wan's_ hair when he went to bed with _his_ woman."

"He never went to bed with her, all his sessions were done in _caves_."

" _You know what I meant_!"

Qui-Gon sighed. "Obi-Wan was discrete, he never told me about what he had done, and I never managed to catch him in the act, though I did try."

"So...you don't want me to tell you?"

"No, I _do_..." The Master sighed. "You aren't like Obi-Wan, thank the Force. When you felt there was a problem, you came right to me and..." Qui-Gon closed his tired eyes. "Obi-Wan didn't, not in the end. If he came to me, or anyone, instead of dealing with it himself...maybe he wouldn't have fallen." The Master smiled. "I'm glad you came to me, Anakin."

"...you still pulled my hair, though."

Qui-Gon shrugged. "My Master pulled _my_ hair when I came home far too late and smelling of women. And it happened far more than once. I never had Obi-Wan's sensibility for keeping silent. I was much more like you."

"And now you sit on the Council!" Anakin's entire body tensed, shaking in excitement. "I just can't believe it!"

"Neither can I..." The Master looked at his excitable Padawan, a slight smile on his lips. "Will you see Padmé again?"

"...I want to," Skywalker sighed. "I really do, I... _loved_ what we did, even if I didn't go there for that."

"Do you love her?"

"...no." Anakin ran a hand through his hair. "I like her _A lot_. But _love_...is a bit strong. I know something's manipulating me, I felt it that night. Master Yoda helped me sort through that." He stood tall, his chest puffing in bolstered strength. "I know Jedi can't have relationships like that, but..." He cleared his throat. "If anything happens between her and me, it won't be because of some _Sith_."

"I suppose that's all I can hope for..." He sighed and hung his head, looking around the vast, empty hallways of the Jedi Temple. "At least you aren't an indiscriminate womanizer like Quinlan..."

"But he _really_ has fun, Master. _And_ he's on the Council!"

"...he's perhaps not the best example." Qui-Gon's eyes darted around the halls, and he froze in his steps, Anakin walking along and prattling on and on for a good ten paces before he realized that his Master hadn't moved.

"You alright?"

"All the Jedi are here in the Temple, the place is completely filled." He gestured widely with his hand. "So _where_ is everybody?"

Anakin looked around the hall, and it was, in fact, empty. Not a single Jedi was in sight. Skywalker felt a deep pit form in his stomach, the Force quivering around him. "Something's wrong..."

"I feel it too. Let's go."

* * *

They had to pass through nearly the entire Jedi Order, from younglings to Masters, to get to where the Temple Guards stood standing in a long line in front of the Archive. Nobody was allowed to pass by, and while the Jedi complied with this rule without complaint, it didn't keep them from gathering before the massive hall of collected knowledge and talking about it. By the time Anakin and Qui-Gon had reached the line of guards that stood before the currently restricted Archive, they had pieced together a vague idea of what had happened. Somebody had broken in and stolen something from the depths of the Archive.

From _where_ , though, the Jedi didn't know. Many of them suspected it was a Sith that had infiltrated their ranks and taken something from the Forbidden Archive, a wealth of Dark Side knowledge. Others still thought this was another prank by a particularly clever and mischievous Padawan. After all, many were old enough to remember the last time this happened, and Quinlan Vos had gleefully sat at the middle of that one. But regardless of where they stood on the matter, many Jedi believed it was Ahsoka Tano that had done it. She had come back touched by the Sith Lord Obi-Wan Kenobi on Christophsis, commanded to do his bidding and attack the Jedi, and if it wasn't that, the inherent troublemaker Quinlan was her Master. Regardless, it didn't look too good for the Togruta.

The Temple Guard stepped aside to allow Qui-Gon to pass by, but they tried to keep Anakin from entering. They were commanded to allow the Council by, as the leaders of the Order had a great deal to discuss and investigate, but they had said nothing about the Padawans of the Masters. A withering glare from Qui-Gon settled the matter, however, and they allowed Skywalker to pass. They weren't about to argue. They tried before to keep Luminara and Quinlan from bringing their Padawans in, and all they got for it was a headache.

When Anakin saw Barriss and Ahsoka standing away from the gathered Council, he rushed over to greet them, the two girls looking worried and somber, but both smiled when Skywalker approached. "Feeling better?" he asked, and Ahsoka frowned, crossing her thin arms over her chest.

"I wish I was still unconscious. They're blaming _me_ for this!" She grumbled, shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "Master Vos hasn't left my side since we returned, he's already said I'm innocent!"

"The Council agrees, Ahsoka," Barriss said quietly. "They never suspected you to begin with."

"But the other Padawans, they-"

"Who cares about them," Anakin said, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture. "Padawans don't know anything, and you know they never stop talking."

At that, a sly grin spread across the Togruta's face. "I know. They're talking about _you_ , you know. Something about a _Senator_..."

"Sheesh, Snips, what did I just say! We don't care what they think!" Anakin cried, his face red as he looked to Barriss for support, but the young Mirialan was just giggling haplessly. His friends were no help at all.

" _I_ care," Ahsoka drawled. "I believe it."

"...w-well..."

" _Oh sweet Force, you did it_!" she squealed, her voice echoing around the uncharacteristically empty Archive, and the three looked to the group of Masters, but the only one who paid them any mind was Quinlan, the Kiffar shooting them a flash of a smile and winking, giving them a thumbs up before he turned his attention back to the others. "I had a bet with my Master that I just lost, thanks to you!" She punched the much taller Padawan in the arm with far more strength than Anakin thought she had.

"Wait, you _bet_ on this rumor?!"

"It's not a rumor if it's true!"

"I don't know if the Jedi condone gambling, Ahsoka," Barriss said, but the Togruta scoffed loudly.

"That's not what Master Quinlan says."

"Master Luminara... _respectfully_ disagrees on the matter."

Ahsoka laughed. "Yeah, next thing you know, she'll be saying that _drinking_ isn't alright either."

"No, it is," the Mirialan mused. "But not in the excess your Master engages in."

"Hey! In the time I've been his Padawan, he's only been drunk _five times_!" Ahsoka held up her hand, her five fingers splayed for emphasis. Barriss was not impressed.

"And how long has that been?"

"Three weeks!"

"Ah," the Mirialan drawled, raising her hands before her in a placating gesture, but she smirked sarcastically. "I apologize. My mistake."

" _Anyway_ , we aren't here to talk about that!" Ahsoka said, pointing at Anakin. "We're here to talk about how Skyguy put his... _lightsaber_ in a Senator!"

Anakin nearly choked, his face bright red as he coughed as Barriss gasped, her small hands flying up to cover her mouth. " _Ahsoka_!" she chided. "How could you even-"

The Togruta shrugged. "That's what my Master said. More or less. He used... _different_ words to describe it." She paused. "In _great_ detail."

" _He wasn't even there_!" Anakin cried, his voice rough and raw from coughing, but the young Padawan Tano just grinned.

"Master Vos says it's _very_ important to know how all that works. He didn't need to be there to know what happened, Skyguy." She rolled her eyes. "Even _I_ know what happened, I've studied human biology." She answered the other two Padawans' questioning looks with a shrug and a quick, "There's just so many of you, I wanted to know why."

"Well, you suit your Master, that's for certain," Barriss sighed, but Anakin simply became more flustered.

"We aren't here to discuss _my_ mistakes, we're here to find out what happened in the Archive!"

" _We_ aren't going to find out," Ahsoka drawled, pointing to the Masters, who seemed to have devolved into less than polite discussion, with the Kiffar rogue leading the wild charge against an equally frustrated Mace Windu. "They are."

"How can they solve anything like that?" Barriss asked, shaking her head. "Master Luminara says that being unattached lends itself to clarity, but they are so... _frustrated_."

"How can you not be?" Skywalker sighed, looking around the Archive. Everything _seemed_ in place, at least. "Everything is falling apart, how can we stay removed when the entire galaxy suffers?"

They were silent for a moment, each quietly contemplating the question when Ahsoka softly said, "Master Quinlan says a Jedi's true strength comes from how deeply we feel. We know we're all connected, we suffer when others do, we feel their pain and their sorrow and their joys and...well, all of it. Without empathy for others, we wouldn't be Jedi."

"Master Luminara says our strength comes from being able to let go when the time comes," was Barriss' solemn response. "Most can't do it, but it keeps us from seeking revenge, feeling hatred that prevents our ability to connect with others."

Anakin was silent, quietly contemplating the opposing, but not dissimilar opinions of his friends' Masters. "Master Qui-Gon," he said softly, "hasn't really said. He just...says we must trust in the will of the Force and follow it, no matter where it takes us."

"Even if it leads to the Dark Side?" the Mirialan asked, and Skywalker found two pairs of bright blue eyes staring at him. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat, but found he could not.

"...the Force won't lead us to evil, we just need to recognize what reaches out to us."

"But what about the Sithkiller?" Ahsoka asked. "The Force led him to hunt the Sith, didn't it? It led him to the Dark Side."

"It's not the fault of the Force that Obi-Wan Kenobi wasn't strong enough," Anakin hissed. "But we are. We just need to trust in the Force and everything will be alright." He sighed. "Look, it'll be alright if we just follow the will of the Force. Now, since we _are_ here to talk about what happened, what happened? What was stolen? And how are they going to find who did it? Basically every Jedi in the Order is here right now!"

"From what I understand," Barriss said, folding her hands in front of her, "the thief broke into the Holocron Vault."

"...isn't that the most guarded place in the Temple?" Anakin asked, and little Ahsoka scoffed beside him.

"And they thought _I_ did it..."

"The rest of the Order doesn't know the details yet, and you know how facts become rumors as the tale is retold." Barriss smiled when the Togruta became petulant.

"You wouldn't be so easy-going about this if _you_ were the one accused."

"Perhaps not," the Mirialan smiled. "But I would also trust my Master to show others her wisdom. She would know I was innocent. She wouldn't make a joke out of it like _someone's_ Master..."

"Master Vos likes to have fun!" the Togruta shouted in defense of the Kiffar. " _Especially_ when things get bad!"

"We know..." Anakin groaned, looking over at the congregated Masters again to find Quinlan laughing at what looked to be the expense of a furiously blushing Shaak Ti."I had thought the Holocron Vault was only accessible by Masters."

Barriss nodded. "I believe that's correct. It greatly limits who could have done it. Our Masters should have solved the matter by now."

"I don't understand," Ahsoka mused, her hand resting on her cheek. "What could a Sith want with a Holocron? They can't open it, can they?"

"An important question, that is." The three Padawans gasped and turned around, seeing nothing for a moment before they looked down at the bemused face of Grandmaster Yoda. "What think the Padawans, hmm?" The little creature chuckled, and the three friends looked between each other. Nobody said anything, but Yoda remained silent, indicating that the question was not, in face, rhetorical.

"Maybe," Ahsoka began, the youngest and most bold of the three, "they believe that Obi-Wan can open it since he was once a Jedi. Maybe _he_ still believes he can open it. I mean, he hasn't been gone that long, not really. Maybe he still feels the Light Side of the Force."

Yoda hummed, his big eyes closed in thought. "Possible, this is."

Encouragement from Yoda made Barriss step forward, head bowed. "Perhaps they found a way to open it. If they have a Jedi working for them, than they may have convinced them to open it as well. Or, more likely, they were _compelled_ to do so."

Yoda nodded. "Astute, you are. Yes, could be."

All eyes turned to Anakin, but the boy said nothing, his index finger pressed to his chin and his lips pursed in thought. Finally, he whispered, "This is exactly like everything else they've done. All of this was done to spread confusion and make us doubt ourselves and each other. It's just an added bonus that they're depriving us of knowledge." Smiling, Yoda tapped his stick on Anakin's stomach.

"Correct, you are, young Skywalker." The Master slowly hobbled past them, waving with his free hand for the trio to follow. "Come, Padawans. Share with the Council, your insight. Valuable, are the opinions of all. Not just the wise, but the young. On the outside, you stand. A new perspective, we must have."

They walked next to the tiny Grandmaster, quiet and nervous, and when they approached, the Masters all bowed to the old, wise Jedi, but their eyes appraised the Padawans as if they were judging them. Standing silent, the little creature tapped each of the Padawans in turn, the teens repeating what they had said earlier. When they had finished, Yoda stood beside them, a soft smile on his old face.

"A lesson, this is. For all of us," the Grandmaster said, tapping his stick beside the Padawans. "Good ideas, are these, Padawans. To be considered, they must. But information, you are missing. Correct, you are, about the Sith and the thief. But incorrect, you are, about _why_."

Anakin sputtered, "But, a Jedi holocron-"

"Stolen, Jedi holocrons were, yes. Three, they were." Yoda frowned. "But for Jedi holocrons, the objective was not."

"Wait, how are we supposed to answer your questions when we don't have all the information!" Ahsoka cried, and Yoda gave a satisfied grunt, pointing his stick at the Togruta.

"Masters. An answer, have you, for the Padawan?" No Master moved. The trio of learners looked at the Council, and they seemed...scolded. Like they had failed the Grandmaster in some way that the Padawans didn't understand. "Narrow, is our sight. Strive for the bigger picture, we must. Master Vos." The Kiffar perked up. "Examined the lightsaber, have you?"

"...not yet, Master. I've been too busy teaching."

"Today," Yoda said firmly. "Be with you, I will. Understanding, we must have." Quinlan nodded, and Yoda closed his eyes. "A victory for the Sith, this was. Sense their influence, I cannot. Capture Obi-Wan, we must." The Masters quietly nodded, and they began to leave, but Anakin was confused. That _couldn't_ be it.

"No, _wait_!" Skywalker cried, and all the Masters turned to face him. "I don't understand. There are hundreds of Masters, do you know who did it?"

It was Qui-Gon that stepped forward. "We know who, yes..."

" _Who_?" His Master did not answer, and Anakin sighed. Qui-Gon would tell him soon enough. "Alright, _why_."

"We don't actually know why, Anakin..."

"No, _we do_ ," Quinlan said sharply. "He did it for his _Sith Master_!"

"There was no Dark Side in him, Quinlan, he isn't Sith!"

"He was _controlled_!" Silence fell when Yoda slammed his stick on the ground, the sharp sound echoing throughout the high, empty halls of the Archive.

"Ears, have you, Quinlan?" Yoda asked, and the Kiffar bit his lip.

"Apparently not," he growled.

"Wise, your Padawan is. Gave voice to our problem, she did. Answer questions, we cannot, if information, we do not have." The room was silent again, and all the Masters seemed to struggle with this. Barriss shifted from foot to foot, looking at her contemplative Master, and she took in a breath and held it.

"Masters," she said softly, respectfully, and the Jedi looked toward her. "You had said that stealing the holocrons was secondary. If that's true, what was their main objective?" The Masters seemed reluctant to answer, looking to Yoda to say something, but the little Master only closed his eyes and breathed deep.

"Holocrons, the Sith have stolen," he finally said. "And holocrons, the objective was." He frowned, grunting in dissatisfaction. "Three Jedi holocrons, the Sith did steal. But stole twelve, they did." The Padawans looked confused, and Yoda took in a deep breath. "In the Holocron Vault, how many may enter?"

"W-well..." Barriss stuttered. "The Masters have access, so hundreds, I suppose."

It was Luminara that shook her head. "Masters may enter, yes, but only twelve of them."

Barriss gasped in understanding. "The High Council." The Mirialan Master nodded. "...so one of you stole them?"

"No, it wasn't them," Anakin growled, his eyes lighting with understanding. "But it _was_ one of them, it was Master Koth." One look at the Masters told Anakin he had hit the mark. He groaned, running his hands over his face He understood electronics well enough to know exactly how the wayward Master had done it. "We _just_ elected new Masters to the Council. He may have exploited this to get where he wanted."

"That may be," Qui-Gon whispered, and the other Masters seemed to glare at him. Qui-Gon did not fail to notice. " _What_ ," he snapped. "We cannot just keep this information from them, not when they're puzzling it out themselves! You're right, Anakin. And before you say anything about it, if he's on the planet, we will find him, but we shouldn't count on it. He's long gone by now."

"Why do we even care about him!" Ahsoka cried, throwing her arms in the air. "He's already done the damage. Yes, Sith spies in the Jedi is _bad_ , but what's worse is what he _stole_!"

"They can't use Jedi holocrons, Ahsoka..." Barriss said softly, placating her friend, but the Togruta would have none of it.

" _Three_ , Jedi holocrons, Barriss, but Master Yoda said _twelve_ were stolen." She took a deep breath, her eyes narrowing with frustration and rising anger. "There were _Sith_ holocrons in there."

"Correct, you are, Padawan Tano," Yoda nodded.

"They weren't here to rob us of our knowledge, they were here to expand their own." Ahsoka plunked down upon the floor, resting her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands. "How are we supposed to fight them now?"

"Quickly," Quinlan drawled, sitting himself next to his Padawan and holding the borrowed lightsaber in his hands.

"...how many did they steal?"

"All of them." The Kiffar smiled at his despondent Padawan. "We'll get them back."

"Why do we even _have_ those?" Anakin growled. "They should have been destroyed."

"Kept them, we did, in the event that return, the Sith did," Yoda rasped. "But open them, we cannot. Changed, the Jedi Order is, from a thousand years ago."

"Not that it matters anymore, since the Sith have them back now..."Anakin sighed, running his hand through his lengthening hair. "What are we going to do?"

"Return to the war, we must," Yoda softly rasped. "Trained the Jedi, we have, to defend against the Sith. Prepared, they will never be, but the tools, they have, to live. Capture Obi-Wan, we must."

"Is that the goal?" Anakin asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest, and the tiny Master nodded.

"Knowledge, he has. Knowledge of the Dark Side. Knowledge of the Sith. The identity of the Sith Master, he knows. This knowledge, we may gain, but not if dead, he is."

Anakin looked around the room at the sullen Masters, his fellow concerned Padawans, the old, wise face of the Grandmaster, and he felt a deep pain in his chest. For a moment, he felt the Force tremble as he looked upon them, their presence in the Force flickering and dying, or fading to black for just an instant. Then it was gone, but the feeling remained. Before Obi-Wan was captured, hundreds of Jedi would be dead, hundreds more worse than dead, and through it all, Anakin felt that balance, somehow, could be restored.


	35. Dark Knowledge

Obi-Wan lay draped over the couch in his living quarters, rancor Yoda laying peacefully beside a window warmed by the lava flows outside. Nine Sith holocrons floated around the Sith Lord, all of them open and all of them whispering, the different voices, low growl and high hiss, male and female, all speaking at once, the ancient Sith cacophony in the otherwise still air. Obi-Wan couldn't hear anything specifically, but he didn't need to, not yet. The words themselves had power, and Lumis had opened himself to all of it, the power rushing through his body like a raging torrent that threatened to tear him apart, and he welcomed it. It was almost too much to bear, the surge of power and mind-numbing pleasure and satisfaction leaving him feel like he was amazingly, mindlessly drunk. Far more drunk than he had ever been with Quinlan.

The glowing yellow eyes slowly fluttered open, lazily looking around the room, but seeing nothing but the flow of the Force. He had so much to learn, and there was so much knowledge, so much power right there at his fingertips. He caught bits and pieces from the holocrons, things that he had never heard of, things he had never considered. One woman spoke of using the Force to alter objects and, more interestingly, living beings in order to make them stronger, smarter, and absolute tools of the Sith in a process she simply called Alchemy. He had recognized another voice, and he grabbed the holocron out of the air and listened closely, grinning when he identified the voice as one he knew.

Valkorion, the ancient Sith Emperor and creator of the holocron that Sidious had given to him, spoke in his smooth, compelling voice, not about mind control, but about _life_. He spoke of draining the very Force out of another being and using that life energy to prolong the life of the user. Kenobi's breath caught in his throat, and all the other holocrons closed, dropping to the floor as Lumis focused on the one in his hand. This was _exactly_ what his Master had been seeking, what his Master's Master had sought, what every Sith Lord since the first exiled Dark Jedi had sought. _Immortality_ , or at least a piece of it. He knew his Master had holocrons that focused on immortality, but the greed of the Sith always prevailed, and only small pieces of the information was recorded, leaving wide gaps in the knowledge just in case any Sith in the future surpassed those from the past.

Kenobi never desired immortality. Perhaps it was his Jedi training, but he knew that all things must end eventually. If it were truly possible, than the ancient Sith, in the height of their power, would have discovered how to do it. Valkorion was the closest, having lived for thousands of years, but in the end, he too had died. However, growing old was something that Kenobi never wanted. He prided himself on being young, strong, agile, and while he did know that the Force was the only ally a Sith Lord needed, being strong and vital never hurt. And now, he held a holocron that whispered to him the way to accomplish that, a way to literally drain the Force out of a being and take it within his own body, revitalizing him and making him younger, and, if done regularly, it created a pathway to eternal life.

It wasn't _true_ immortality, the holocron explained. Making ones body younger did not extend a life span by much, if at all. If immortality was to be achieved, than it would have to be through a different means, but if one wanted to preserve a body they happened to be attached to, this was the holocron for it. His hand tightened around the pyramid. This was _exactly_ what his Master wanted, above all else, and he _did_ promise Sidious the holocrons from the Temple...

Kenobi breathed deeply, raising the other holocrons into the air, opening them and carefully listening to them in turn until he found the one with the details of Sith Alchemy. Grabbing that one from the air as well, Lumis put them on the arm of the couch and carefully placed the others into the pack they were delivered in. He'd deliver these to Sidious, as he promised. Two holocrons would not be missed when he delivered seven to his Master's waiting hands. After all, he did a great deal of work to steal these. He deserved them. Even if it was one his Master craved above all others. _Especially_ if it was one his Master craved. _There is no ignorance, only knowledge_ , the Jedi said, and knowledge was power.

"Koth," he drawled lazily, and the Jedi Master, on his hands and knees in the middle of the room, shook, whimpering pathetically as he was summoned, his broken mind fighting a body that yearned to obey. Eventually, the Master crawled to the Sith, his movements jarring and unfocused as he fought the order. His time with the Jedi was allowing him his mind back. "You're becoming yourself again." Those dark eyes narrowed, and Kenobi just grinned. "Don't worry. I'll fix that soon enough."

"You will _never_ break me, Sith," the Zabrak snarled, but Lumis ignored him, picking up the holocron and opening it, the words of the Sith Emperor hungrily absorbed by his clever mind, the yellow eyes flashing in interest, concentration, and then understanding.

"Sweetheart, I already have. More than once." He reached out with the Force and brought it's weight down on the Jedi, his arms finally buckling and he lay helplessly on the floor. "Give me a moment so I can learn how to drain the Force right out of you. I'm sure it will be _horribly_ painful."

"If you're going to kill me, just do it." Kenobi sighed, smiling as he looked at the Jedi.

"I haven't decided on what to do with you yet. You seem to _want_ death, and I can't give you what you want." He shrugged, his long finger reaching out to lightly touch the holocron in the air before him, the slightest brush making the pyramid spin in the air. "Besides, you need to tell me about your time with the Jedi!"

With a groan, Eeth pushed himself to his knees, his dark eyes narrowed and his mouth pressed closed and silent. He would say nothing to this Sith Lord, if he could help it. He knew he could not, but he would resist for as long as he was able. The Sith Lord reached out and laid two fingers on the Zabrak's forehead, and Koth's eyes began to slide out of focus as he felt his resistance fall, his mind submitting and eager for the Sith's approval. The Jedi whimpered softly as he felt his will leave him. He was a Master of the Jedi Order, one that once sat on the High Council, and he could no longer resist the call of the Sith Lord at all. It's how he made him steal the holocrons from the Archive, and he couldn't even find the strength to hate Obi-Wan for it.

When Koth said nothing, Kenobi cheerfully whistled, pulling his lightsaber from his belt and lightly nudging the holocron with it. "How did they look? Have you been replaced?"

"You altered my memory, I lied to them..." Koth whimpered, his voice a wavering tremor, but the Sith just clicked his tongue and cooed to him, those long fingers running through the thick black hair and over the horns protruding from his head.

"Oh, no, _baby_ , you didn't lie...you believed what you were saying was the truth! The truth is subjective anyway."

" _It isn't_."

"It _is_ ," the Sith hissed, fingers wrapping in the Zabrak's hair and pulling back, causing the Jedi to fall against the couch, his back to the dangerous man. He moved to turn around to face him, but a gentle, firm hand gripped his shoulder to still him, and Koth didn't move again. "The Jedi obviously saw nothing in you, or you wouldn't have been given the freedom to move about the Temple freely," Kenobi purred in his ear. " _That_ means they can't sense my influence. That's giving me a great deal of freedom."

"It doesn't matter! The Jedi have been called back to the Temple so they can learn how to fight _you_!" The hand in his hair tightened and pulled back _hard_ , leaving the Zabrak's neck strained and exposed, and Kenobi's free hand drifted over his throat, tracing the line of his trachea and gently squeezing, the Jedi tensing when he did so.

"The Jedi were called back for _me_?" Kenobi laughed, sending chills down Koth's spine. Anger and satisfaction roared through the Dark Side in equal measure. Lumis couldn't be sure if he was flattered that he caused such a panicked retreat, or raging against the Jedi that could share everything about him. If nothing else, the Jedi were smart and resourceful. He wouldn't make the mistake of underestimating them, like so many Sith before him had.

"They're going to beat you, _Sith Lord_."

"I'm really beginning to dislike your tone," he drawled, slowly pressing gently against the Zabrak's mind, and the Jedi shivered, his resistance giving way to the desire to submit to the stronger will of the Sith. Koth slowly began whimpering, leaning his head back to give Kenobi easier access to his exposed neck and leaning into his touch. Kenobi closed his eyes and carefully observed the memories the Jedi showed him, frowning as he listened to the Council, but delighting to see who was on it. Gone were some of the older members, and replaced by his old friends, Luminara and Quinlan, and a small part of him even felt pride to see his former Master sitting between them. He wanted him to suffer, yes, but it didn't mean he couldn't revel in the old Jedi's promotion, even if it was an indulgent whim of his former self, the young, dead Jedi Knight breathing from beyond the Force.

The Council had changed if they had allowed Qui-Gon Jinn to sit among them. He'd have to adapt to these changes, which wasn't a challenge for Kenobi. After all, the Dark Side thrived on change and struggle and adversity. It was the Jedi that had a difficulty with changing their ways. He was so focused that he only barely noticed Cody's long, powerful stride as he approached the Sith Lord, slowing as he saw what was going on and stopping completely when Koth moaned loudly.

Smirking, and standing with a fist on his hip, Cody said, "You would think that three days on Mandalore would have been enough for you, sir."

"It's never enough for me, Commander..."

"New pet, then?"

"Old pet. You haven't met him." He opened his eyes and looked at the clone, observing him carefully when he saw that the soldier's white and orange armor was gone, replaced with armor of jet black and blood red. "...new armor?"

Cody scoffed. "Old armor. New paint. Do you like it?"

Kenobi winked. "Terribly sexy. Get your men to do the same, if we're going to destroy the Republic, we're going to do it looking stylish."

"We've already done it, sir." He stopped when the Sith snarled, his hand wrapping around black hair and pulling, the submissive man's back arching with pain as he gasped. The gold eyes looked back up at him, and Cody stood taller. The Sith wasn't displeased with _him_. "We've also fashioned helmets and armor for your rancors. We don't know if they were pleased, but we think you will be."

"If I'm happy, they'll be happy. _Right, Eeth_?" Kenobi growled, grasping the Jedi's throat, and the dark eyes clouded.

"Yes, Master..."

Cody pointed to the Zabrak. "What did he do?"

"He's a _Jedi_ ," Kenobi purred, and the clone shuttered, his face marked with anger.

"I can get rid of him for you, my Lord..."

"Mm, I may do it myself, but Koth here is _mine_." He patted the Zabrak on the cheek and the Jedi groaned softly. "There's just enough of him left to hate this, but he can't resist me anymore."

"...is this what you plan to do to the Jedi?" Kenobi looked up at the clone, the man's features hard and unreadable, and while the Sith could simply look in his mind, he was beginning to develop a fondness for the clone commander. Cody's loyalty was absolute, of that he was certain. He didn't need to break the willing and the independently cooperative.

"Why? Does it displease you?" Obi-Wan smirked. "Allowing the Jedi to live may be against your basic programming." _That_ made the clone's eyes flash with anger, and it amused the Sith Lord. These weren't droids, after all. They could be offended. Their free will is what made them formidable.

"I don't _have_ programming, sir, you freed us of that. If you want the Jedi dead, we'll kill them. If you want the Jedi to be your slaves, or your pets, or... _whatever_ this creature is, than tell me how to help you achieve it. We _choose_ to follow you, my Lord. Wherever it may take us." The clone took a deep breath, relaxing his breathing when he saw the Sith Lord...amused, the light in his golden eyes devoid of the sinister gleam they usually held and replaced with what Cody thought looked like fondness. Kenobi rose, pushing the Jedi forward as he did so, and picked up the bag with the holocrons, slipping the two he was keeping for himself into the folds of his robes.

"I need to stop by my rooms on the way to speak with my Master. Walk with me, Cody."

"The training hall isn't far from here, sir. Do you want to see how the men are progressing?"

"I don't know. Is it worth it?"

Cody grinned. "I believe you'll be impressed."

Kenobi nodded. "Lead the way, my friend. Come on, Koth, you too." The Sith chuckled when the Jedi rose to his feet, swaying slightly but offering no resistance to the command. When they left the room, the rancor growled, scraping the floor as he rose to his feet and ambled after them, keeping a respectful distance away from his Master, but sniffing and growling curiously at the Jedi. Cody and Obi-Wan talked in hushed Mandalorian, and Kenobi was impressed by how far he had come with the language. He wasn't fluent, and he often had to stop to explain words and turn of phrase, but the commander was remarkably knowledgeable in the wealth of profanity, curses, and conversation unfit for polite company that was woven into the Mandalorian culture. Until recently, the warrior race could never be considered even remotely polite.

They went on at some length about Obi-Wan's woman and the things the two of them had done, and the Sith spared no detail when the clone expressed a great interest in the subject. Cody relayed that the men he had sent to Mandalore had come home with similar tales of their own carnal conquests, which they shared eagerly with their brothers and served as a motivator for the others to excel in their combat studies. The Sith wasn't inclined to discourage such behavior. After all, he followed his passions, and so long as duty came first, passion was an opportune motivator that could make his men strong, as well as pleased. Obi-Wan himself was happier as a Sith than he was as a Jedi. There was something to be said of feeding ones desires instead of burying them under a heap of guilt and self-loathing, as the Jedi did.

The training arena was filled with clones, many of them half dressed and all of them sweating and flushed from the exertion of their training, their bronzed, muscular bodies covered in burns and scars and blood that they had acquired in the rough training the MagnaGuard put them through to become deadly with the electrostaff. Others were training in hand to hand combat, and others still stood at the far end of the hall with blasters primed and shooting at hapless battle droids. The mechanicals were simply no match for the clone comradery, and it seemed to be less practice and more sport to the Sith Lord, and he smirked. They were soldiers, yes, but they _enjoyed_ this. That was good. It was a feeling that the clones of the Republic wouldn't share in the same way. The Jedi Generals would see to it that the lust for violence was discouraged, but Obi-Wan would do no such thing. His army was made to kill, so they may as well enjoy what they do.

When the clones saw Cody enter with the Sith Lord, many of them bowed, many more whispered among themselves and pointed, and a few officers and soldiers who excelled in the combat they were practicing were brave enough to approach the men, saluting respectfully and engaging in small talk with their Lord that Kenobi was happy to participate in. Several others had come not to see the Sith, but to see the rancor when the massive creature dropped to the ground and closed its black eyes. The clones had taking a liking to the rancor, partially because the beast was kept well-fed by them, so the creature had no cause to be anything but amicable to its brood, and partly because it had developed an intense dislike of droids, courtesy of its Master, which allowed the clones to feel something of a kindred spirit with the ferocious beast. So much so that the entirety of the 212th had taken to calling themselves the Rancor Battalion.

Kenobi looked around the hall in between quick conversations with the clones, nodding in approval as he watched them train with fist and staff and blaster. The men were good, and they were dedicated, and above all else, they were inspired, which not only gave them an advantage over the emotionless droid forces, but gave them a distinctive edge over their Republic counterparts.

"Look at them all," Obi-Wan purred to Cody, the commander beaming with pride. "They are remarkable. They're ferocious and loyal and dedicated, I bet they can't wait to blood themselves."

"They are quite eager, sir."

"And it won't be enough," a soft, threatening whisper from behind them hissed, and raging yellow eyes fell on the Jedi Master, the dark eyes defiant and bright, devoid of the mindless haze of before. His time with the Jedi had strengthened him, and Kenobi was not pleased. Feeling the Dark Side swell within him, the quiet flames being stoked to a controlled blaze, Obi-Wan thrust the pack with the holocrons at Cody's chest, the commander gingerly taking it, and two strides put the Sith eye to eye with the Jedi.

"Say it again," Kenobi drawled, his voice sweet, a smile on his face, and golden eyes dangerous. The rancor's massive claws dug into the compact dirt of a training ring at its Master's swift emotional change, leaving long, deep claw marks in the ground, bearing its dangerous teeth and snarling. The room fell silent, every clone in the hall stopping to watch their leader.

"Your men," Eeth said again, his voice no louder than before, but now it echoed in the silent room, projecting so every being could hear him clearly, "will not be enough to stop the Republic. _You_ won't be enough to stop the Jedi. No matter how strong you are, no matter how strong you become, you will _always_ fall short, Obi-Wan Kenobi."

Faster than anyone could see, a red saber ignited at the Sith's hip before it was properly drawn, the wicked blade swinging low and arching up in a wide sweep, and Koth fell to the ground, eyes wide and fixed in surprise at his legs, both severed at the knee and laying several feet away from where he fell. The cut was clean, sudden, and the shock seemed to keep the pain away, as did the fear of the Sith that stood above him, golden eyes blazing with red blade in hand, his careful defenses blown open and exposing the Dark Side within him, the controlled flames of before loosed in an all-consuming inferno.

"I promised you pain, _Koth_ , for so long, I have promised it to you..." Kenobi grabbed the Jedi by the hair and dragged him up, the raw, burned stubs of his legs pressing against the ground and sending pain rushing through the Jedi so intense that he nearly lost consciousness. Lumis pointed his lightsaber at the legs on the ground. "Cody, give those to Yoda. He hasn't eaten _Jedi_ yet, and I want to give him a taste for it..."

Snapping his fingers, Cody ordered two nearby clones to do as the Sith commanded, and they rushed forward, grabbing the appendages and running them to the snarling, drooling beast.

"I suspect," Kenobi drawled, leaning down to the pale and suffering Jedi, "that a great deal of your fellows are going to suffer this fate. You didn't need to. You could have joined me, Koth. I gave you the option, I gave you the _chance_! And now I need to make an example of you..."

Eeth Koth closed his eyes, his face peaceful despite the pain, and he whispered, "There is no death, only the Force."

"How right you are..." Lumis deactivated his saber and tossed it to Cody, and he struck the Zabrak on the forehead with two fingers, and thrust the Dark Side within him, the might of his own dark Force presence surrounding the defenseless Jedi. He closed his eyes and recalled the words of the holocron that he had listened to not an hour earlier. Soft, hissed words in ancient Sith that spoke of draining the very Force out of anything that lived in order to benefit the user, a way to physically drain the life out of a being to extend the life of the Sith that could use it. It was a technique, the compelling voice within the holocron had said, that could not be taught, could not be learned. It could only be understood through instinct and by experiencing the effects first hand, and Obi-Wan, who listened to and trusted in the Force, had instincts that were rarely wrong.

He felt the Force within the Jedi, strong and bright like a fire that burned with life and vitality. He felt his own Force presence, dark and powerful, like an intrusive, shadowed hand that reached into the body of the Jedi, and Lumis was never one to turn from flames for fear of the burn. Feeling the Force of them both, he closed his presence around Koth's, and drew it towards himself, the life force resisting with all its might. It was a struggle, requiring all his many years of focus and control, but eventually, the power of the Dark Side ripped the very Force out of the Zabrak, the Jedi screaming in agony as he felt life leave him.

Even the rancor drew back from the vicious cries, blood dripping off sharp fangs as he crawled backwards on his belly to come nestled among the wide-eyed clones. Kenobi could feel the flames of Koth's life flicker as it died, the strong flame becoming embers and than softly glowing coals. He could do it. He could drain his life completely, he just needed to...

Teeth grit, Lumis snarled, releasing the Jedi, the body dropping to the floor, still and hardly breathing, and Kenobi had to kneel, breath fast and deep as if he had physically exerted himself beyond exhaustion. He felt his lungs burning, and his mouth tasted of blood, but the Dark Side raged through him like a wild and feral beast unlike it had ever done before. There was pain, _lots_ of it as his muscles spasmed, tremendous soreness settling in almost instantly. But there was satisfaction as well, pleasure derived from the swell of the Dark Side that made Lumis feel stronger, faster... _younger_. Gasping softly, he opened his eyes slowly, the glowing orbs focusing on the barely breathing Jedi.

"Make certain he doesn't die, Cody..." Lumis drawled, rising to his feet slowly and running a hand through his hair, chuckling when the clone commander handed him his saber and the pack with the holocrons. "I need to study what happens to a man after something like that."

Cody nodded. "Do you need assistance, my Lord?"

Kenobi shook his head. "Watch Yoda. I'll be fine on my own." He pointed his deactivated saber at Koth. "If he dies, Cody, I'm going to be _displeased_."

"Understood, sir." With that, Obi-Wan swept from the room, leaving the clones in awe of the Master they served.

* * *

Kenobi stopped by his room to lock up the two holocrons he was keeping from his heist with the one his Master had given him and he headed to the elevator. When he entered, he leaned his head on the smooth, cold metal of the wall as he was brought swiftly upward to the domed observation deck at the top of the palace. He stepped out, mindlessly putting in the call to his Master, and dropped into the oversized chair overlooking the lava flows, closing his eyes and breathing deeply.

The skill was dangerous, that much was obvious. More dangerous than any skill his Master had taught him. Kenobi had been wholeheartedly dedicated to his studies of the Dark Side, but he also recognized the dangers of it and did what he could to avoid the worst of it. The Force could bite back, Sidious had always said, and Kenobi was typically a temperate, moderate man. Prudence and caution came naturally to him, and he approached the Dark Side with the same patience and care that he had approached the Force as a Jedi. It was more than something to establish dominion over. It wasn't like the people of the galaxy, who he would subjugate. It wasn't like the Jedi, who he would enslave, convert, or kill. It wasn't Satine, who's heart, mind and body belonged to him, and him alone. No, the Force was a companion, an ally, a friend and advisor that was meant to be respected, lest it turn on you. As much as Kenobi exerted his will upon the Force, the Force also exerted its will upon him, and Obi-Wan never denied it.

It gave him visions, insight, dreams of the future, but only to those willing to listen, and Obi-Wan was always willing. This... _new_ skill lay just on the edge of what Obi-Wan could safely accomplish, and he understood the danger, even as he was doing it. Draining the life out of a being was like filling his body with narcotic drugs, and even now, he felt hazy and high, the pleasure that the power gave him leaving him feel wanting and desperate for more. It was a craving, the early stirring of an addiction that Kenobi had no interest in feeding. If he was going to use this ability, he'd have to use it sparingly, and with great control, lest he be consumed by it, and Obi-Wan had no desire to become a slave to his desires when he had worked so hard and so diligently to master them.

He heard when the holoprojector switched on, the low hum of the electronic filling the domed room, and he could hear Sidious drawl, "Darth Lumis," in his low purr. Kenobi could almost not bring himself to rise out of his chair, but the pain that Sidious could inflict upon him for making the Master wait gave him the motivation to stand and saunter before the holotable, dragging the chair behind him and gracelessly throwing himself in it when he knew he was in range of the projection.

"The Jedi are frantic, Lumis," Sidious began. "They are redeploying their ranks across the galaxy to fight the war."

"Mm, I shall have to take to the field again..." Kenobi lazily drawled. His Master frowned, and he felt his presence upon his mind, but the power drunk haze seemed to stop Sidious from getting too far inside him. In person, it would have been no difficulty, but over all the distance, it was another matter. The Master could inflict pain upon him, but pain was easy. Mind reading, though, even through a deep and strong Force connection like they shared, was difficult at best over a long distance, and that was only if the connection was open. It was not. Kenobi's defenses were raised, and the high of the life syphon left him difficult to read.

"Are you _intoxicated_ , Lumis?" His displeasure was palpable.

"In a sense," Kenobi smirked, crossing his ankle over his knee and waiving his foot in the air. Sidious threw back his hood, a deep frown on his face and his eyes blazing with rage, but Obi-Wan swiftly threw his hands in the air. "It's _celebratory_ , Master! When you hear what I've done, you will want to do exactly as I have."

"I _sincerely_ doubt that," he snarled. "If you are messing around with _death stick_ dealers _one more time, Lumis_ -"

"That was _one time, Master_! And I have been told they dull the connection to the Force! That isn't my idea of a good time, I know what containment is like..."

"So which is it this time."

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes and sat up, crossing his arms before him. "You talk like I am some degenerate drug addict, Master, honestly...I've never had a taste for the stuff, you know that, though this time, it _may_ be a combination of sex and Slick."

Sidious' palm flew to his forehead and he groaned loudly. "Well you must have enjoyed your Duchess, since you look perfectly revitalized...but I _am_ going to kill you."

Using the Force, Obi-Wan rose one of the Sith holocrons from the bag, smirking as his Master took no notice, grumbling his displeasure under his breath, and he turned a tired gaze to his apprentice. Sidious' eyes went wide, and Kenobi could feel shock register in his Master. "You said the Jedi were frantic, Master?" the apprentice purred. " _How_ frantic?"

"Frantic enough..." Sidious tested, his pulse racing as his hunger grew, observing his smirking student with great interest. "How many did you recover?" Lumis grinned, and six holocrons joined the one that floated before them. Kenobi watched the Master stagger, having to grasp something for support, and while he saw and felt his Master's desire through the Force, for just a moment, through the desperate need, Kenobi saw weakness. It was just a moment, but it was enough for Kenobi to see the one weakness in the immense strength of his Master. It was desire, crippling and unchecked, a sudden loss of control that made even Sidious seem to be at the whim of the Dark Side, a slave rather than a Master. Obi-Wan made a mental note to perfect his own control to prevent this weakness from occurring in himself.

"Are seven holocrons enough for your taste, Master?" Kenobi asked sweetly.

"Have you opened them?"

"No, Master."

"Are there more?"

"I don't know. Koth didn't say if he recovered them all."

"I need those, Lumis. Find time to come to Coruscant and deliver them to me."

Kenobi smiled, inclining his head in respect. "As you wish, my Master." The Sith Lord hissed, and Kenobi watched him pace for a moment before coming to stand before the holoprojector again.

"Did you influence Senator Amidala?"

The question took Kenobi by surprise, and the smile dropped from his face. "I...yes, Master, on Mandalore, but it wasn't an intrusion, it was..." He scoffed. "Almost Jedi, really. It was a simple Force suggestion, I barely pushed. I _couldn't_ , I was surrounded by Jedi, and their Grandmaster was there." The Master nodded, seeming to think of something for a moment before he looked at his apprentice again.

"If you have the opportunity to influence her further toward you, do so."

"Why, is she a problem in the Senate again?"

"Not yet, but she will. This serves another purpose."

Obi-Wan nodded. "If I get the opportunity, I'll see if I can't manage that."

"After you see me, I need you to run out to aid Grievous." Obi-Wan groaned, laying his head in his hands.

"What's he done this time..."

"Nothing. I was under the impression that you two got along." Obi-Wan nodded.

"I do. But this is bringing me off my high, Master."

Sidious chuckled, and Kenobi could feel his Master pulling at his mind, a gentle tug that neither hurt nor felt good, it was simply a reminder that Sidious was within him. "If that is the concern, I will fix it after we are done discussing business. With the Jedi returning to the war, we have to redouble our efforts. Knowing them, they will first go to aid the clones that have been failing, and Grievous has killed _thousands_ of them on Haruun Kal."

Kenobi sat up straight. "That's Mace Windu's home world."

"Yes, it is."

Obi-Wan grinned viciously. "I've been waiting to kill that son of a bitch..."

"Then you should be pleased to be going. We must make haste, Lumis. Come to me tomorrow, and you will reach Grievous by tomorrow evening."

Kenobi stood and bowed. "As you wish. See you tomorrow, Master." Sidious smirked, and the hologram flickered and died, and Obi-Wan sighed, yawning as weariness settled over him. He had exerted himself in his use of the Dark Side that day, and his body keenly felt it as he came back under control. It was true that he had felt lighter and stronger, as if he were _years_ younger, but it didn't stop the toll the weight of the Dark Side had taken.

He readied himself to leave when a jolt of mind numbing pleasure shot through his Force connection with Sidious, his legs buckling and falling back into the chair, helplessly moaning. And it didn't stop. Wave after wave of intense pleasure washed over him, leaving him breathless and panting as his mind slipped into a euphoric haze. His Master was, in fact, _very_ pleased with him, if the intensity of the gratification was any indication, and there was no sign of it stopping anytime soon. _This_ is what the Sith Master had said about fixing his high, and it was working. Obi-Wan lay back and committed himself to the bliss that raged through him, writhing and moaning as he lost himself to the pleasure of his Master through the Force.


	36. History

The first time Quinlan Vos had touched Obi-Wan's lightsaber was after the Battle of Naboo. The vision was so hazy, so unfocused, so saturated in pain and hate that the Jedi could see nothing of significance. When he had sat down with Yoda the day before to touch it for the second time, the feelings were so dark, so intense, that the Kiffar had to let go, and he nearly retched from the overwhelming sensations. Yoda was with him, though, and they slowly began picking through the weapon in small stages at a time. Things were hazy still, clouded by a mire of emotional upheaval, but Vos was beginning to get a picture of what had happened to his friend. Much he already knew from the many conversations they had on the subject, but now, coupled with the emotions attached, it was easy to see exactly how it happened.

They hadn't been at work for very long when Master Yoda was called away to see the Chancellor, the Senate in an upheaval about renewed Separatists assaults all over the galaxy, and one of particular ferocity out on Haruun Kal headed by the cyborg Grievous, the General of the mighty droid army of the Confederacy. The Master didn't return, which led Quinlan Vos to now, alone in his room, and holding Obi-Wan's weapon in his Force sensitive hands. He had a good feeling about today. The Force felt strong, clear, and if he was going to get to the bottom of this, it was going to be now. He closed his eyes, the rush of the Force running through him as he grasped the weapon, its history playing out in his mind like a memory.

At first, it was as it had been before. It was hazy, clouded, and he could see little beyond hurt and anger and betrayal. The Jedi growled in frustration, trying to press forward, but only finding the fog thicker, harder to see through than before. He was getting nowhere. With a heavy sigh, he relaxed, and though of his friend. How he had been as a youngling, quiet and curious and so often trying to keep to himself. He was always intelligent, always thoughtful, always mindful of his peers and elders, and so unlike Vos, who had been loud and brash and raucous. He remembered that as an initiate, Kenobi took an interest in mechanics, his desire to become a pilot nearly eclipsing his desire to be a Jedi Knight, for a short time. His own modest appraisal of his skills had left him feeling inadequate when compared to his peers, though he had much to be proud of. And than as a Padawan, Kenobi had become cocky and headstrong, as so many Padawans did, the path before him cleared by the Master that took him under his wing, and he threw himself into his studies with a reckless abandon.

Quinlan smiled, his emotional ties to his friend still strong, despite the time that had passed, despite the years the Kiffar believed him to be dead, despite the fact that Kenobi had fallen to the Dark Side and joined the Sith. They had been so close once that Quinlan thought that a Force bond may have existed between them. So much so, that even when he had seen him on Christophsis, the Dark Side surging around the fallen Jedi, Master Vos felt a connection between them. It was like Obi-Wan had never left. He... _missed_ him. He knew it was dangerous to tap into his own emotions, especially when he was utilizing psychometry. His own thoughts and feelings could be influenced by what he was seeing, and it could make him attached to an event he had no business attaching himself to. But as he thought of his friend, as he was stirred to missing the man he had come to see as his closest brother, the fog began to clear, the visions coming to him vibrant and focused. His emotional connection to Obi-Wan was giving him _insight_ , and Quinlan was not the sort of Jedi to pass up an opportunity. With a deep breath, his connection to Kenobi in hand, he dove in to the history of the fallen Jedi's lightsaber.

It was the same weapon he had first crafted when he was taken as a Padawan, and Quinlan could see flashes of his early training, brief visions of the mission to Mandalore, a hint of the deep love for the Duchess he guarded, and the difficulty ha had in leaving her behind when the Council called him elsewhere. There were fights with his Master, deep frustrations with Qui-Gon's almost petulant reluctance to follow the Code, but under it all was a deep respect for the man that trained him, a vibrant, almost beautiful connection between the two that made Quinlan fill with sadness in the knowledge that such a perfect attachment was ruined. Through it all, though, Quinlan felt nothing that even hinted at the Dark Side. The young Kenobi was studious and steadfast, kind and understanding, the very model of a Jedi, despite his own doubts about his skill.

And then Anakin entered the picture, and everything changed.

The change in his friend was sudden and violent, and Quinlan could feel the cold gripping him tightly, the lightsaber shaking in his hands as he shivered. Vos watched as the images played out before him, Padawan Kenobi's unease with the boy, his uncertainly with his Master's decisions, the Force running cold in the young man's body that left him shaken and afraid and feeling as though he had nowhere to turn. The most vivid vision, though, was of Qui-Gon, Anakin and Obi-Wan, standing off to the side and watching in horror as his Master abandoned him for young Skywalker. His training had not been completed, and the Padawan struggled with a chill in the Force that both he and his Master correctly believed to be the Sith, and now, the cold erupted around him, surrounding the young, lost man and leaving him broken, afraid, and alone. The Council had denied Qui-Gon, of course, but the damage had been done, and Quinlan couldn't help but believe that the cold Kenobi had felt wasn't just him sensing the Sith he would fight, but the Sith he would become.

The next vision was more vibrant than the last, the weapon in his hand having been actively used in the event, and Quinlan doubled over in pain. He had seen this scene hundreds of times before. The ferocious fight against the Sith Lord that granted Kenobi his knighthood, but now, connected to Obi-Wan, he saw it in a different light. The Masters that knighted him were correct with him being one with the Force that day, but they had been wrong about to side that Kenobi had stood on. On that day, in that moment, Obi-Wan had recognized the Dark Side and willingly embraced it, allowing it to fuel his rage and his fury and bring him victory over a foe that, by all rights, should have easily killed him. The rest was inconsequential. On that day, Obi-Wan Kenobi fell.

The rest of the visions were a fast, confusing blur of hatred and rage and betrayal, all at the hands of the Jedi Council. Quinlan grit his teeth against the cold and the pain and pushed through, taking in the details of his first visit to Dathomir, where he first allowed himself to surrender to the Dark Side, his blue eyes beginning to show the first signs of changing to the glowing, Sith yellow. The Kiffar saw their own missions out in Sith Space, felt the Dark Side thriving and alive on Athiss when Kenobi had exerted domination on the twisted creatures they found inside the tomb, felt bloodlust and cruelty driving him on Dromund Kaas, saw the torture of Nute Gunray on Cato Neimoidia, along with dozens of times when he had practiced his growing powers on hapless innocents. And at the end, the visions clouded, and Quinlan felt only pain and uncontrollable anger in the fight against Dooku that the Jedi knew his friend had lost.

He couldn't let go of the weapon. Over and over again, he ran through the visions, looking for new things, feeling his own anger grow, the Force within him running cold with the Dark Side. What happened to Obi-Wan was... _cruel_. Unfair. Unworthy of his kind and gentle friend, and it was the _Jedi_ that had done it to him. Quinlan felt his hand tighten around the weapon. Obi-Wan had been scared and alone for years before he left, long after he fell, and there was no saving him. By the time of their mission, there was nothing Quinlan could have done to help him, but the _Council_ could have. Any of them could have. They had failed him by not being able to sense the darkness within him, but... _why_. Why hadn't they been able to see it? Obi-Wan was good, but he wasn't _that_ good. Hiding from the likes of Yoda wasn't possible, but somehow, Kenobi had done it. Hell, the entire Sith Order had done it for the duration of their thousand year absence, apparently. So much for Jedi insight, if they couldn't detect the pain and suffering of a Padawan right under their noses, what chance did they have against a true Sith Lord?

He had to get rid of it. The weapon in his hands was too much. He could feel the Dark Side, _really_ feel it, and it had seeped inside him, sneaking tendrils of darkness flowing through the very Force itself, and Quinlan had to get away before it consumed him. Mustering up as much strength as he could, he threw the weapon aside with a groan, his strong fingers only just barely coaxed into letting go, as if his body wanted to keep the weapon, hold it close as it craved the darkness of the man that once used it. The Kiffar panted from the effort, his mind feeling tired and strained, and he absently rubbed at the scars on his arms. _This_ was why Yoda had wanted to be there when he accessed the weapon's history. There was a reason that reading weapons was, for the most part, off-limits. They were often soaked with hatred and pain and negative emotions that could seep into the Jedi and lead them down a dangerous path.

Quinlan felt... _sympathy_. Great sadness for his fallen friend. He understood his plight, why he fell, _how_ he fell, and he couldn't blame him for what had happened. It seemed almost...pre-ordained, like Kenobi was never meant for the light, and Quinlan couldn't help but feel that this may have been the will of the Force. The chill Obi-Wan had felt before his fall could have been the Sith Lord Maul, but it could just as easily have been the Force pushing the Padawan to the Dark Side, a vision of what was to come, of what he would be, and...well, Master Vos couldn't blame him for any of that. The path Kenobi walked may have been the will of the Force, and he may have had a part to play in all this. But still, the Dark Side _burned_ , and the Kiffar felt it deeply, focusing on driving it from his being as he had done many times before. This time, though, it was... _deeper_.

Ahsoka barged into the room, breathing deep and hard and she threw herself on the Master, the Kiffar knocked to the ground as his Padawan barreled into him. " _Master Vos_!" she cried, blue eyes wide and frantic, and Vos sighed, staring at the girl out of the corner of his eye.

"You could _knock_ , Snips." The Kiffar's face lit up in delight. "Kriff, I sound like Obi-Wan."

"Master, if _you_ start calling me Snips too, I may lose my mind." She grabbed the Kiffar by his broad shoulders. "What happened! I felt your distress through the Force!"

Quinlan pointed to the lightsaber on the other side of the room. "I was working."

She looked at the lightsaber in the corner, squinting as she took it in, than gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. "Master! You weren't supposed to do that alone, Master Yoda said-"

"I _know_ what he said, but I needed to know!" Ahsoka sat cross-legged before the Kiffar, her arms crossed and her mouth pursed petulantly. "If it makes you feel any better, I _did_ learn something this time. I know how he fell."

"Does it even matter?"

"...I don't know. It might not." He shrugged. "It's good to know, in any case. He was my friend, and knowing what happened was important to me." Ahsoka's face remained impassive, and the Kiffar sighed. "Yes, what is it?"

"I felt the _Dark Side_ , Master! From _you_. Through our connection. The Masters all said to be mindful of the Dark Side in the coming war, they said that we'd always work in groups so we could keep each other strong, and _here you are_! Working alone! _Again_!"

"I've always preferred to work alone!"

"Than _why_ did you take a Padawan!"

He kissed the top of her striped, domed head. "Because you're just so adorable!" Quinlan sighed when the girl's expression did not change. "Yoda left this morning for the war. He wants to see if he can intercept Obi-Wan himself. Most of us are still here, but..." Vos shook his head. "It isn't good, Ahsoka. Their faith has been shaken. The Jedi are seeing Sith everywhere."

"Everyone's just scared, Master..."

"I know, and it's poisoning us. If this was Kenobi's intent, than he's doing a damn good job of it. Master Koth was only the beginning, and Anakin says that there's Sith influence in the Senate as well."

Ahsoka smirked at that. "Isn't he just trying to cover up the mess he made? I mean, 'the Sith made me do it' is the favorite excuse of the Padawans right now." Quinlan laughed loudly.

"I wish I had that excuse when I was a Padawan. I would have gotten away with so much." He smiled softly. "No, it's not just an excuse. I don't _think_ it is, in any case. Obi-Wan believed similar before he left the Jedi, and even when he was running on the Dark Side, he was harnessing it against the Sith for a time."

"...can someone do that?" the Togruta asked. "Can a Jedi use the Dark Side and still be called a Jedi?"

"I don't know, Ahsoka. I thought I knew before, but..." He sighed. "On Dromund Kass, Obi-Wan had insisted that the Dark Side could be used safely, so long as it wasn't used out of anger, but he was long gone by then. Maybe it is possible, but I don't want to be the one to test it. I walk far enough in the shadows as it is."

"...the other Jedi look at me. Everywhere they go, I can feel them watching me." Ahsoka frowned, drawing her legs against her body and wrapping her thin arms around them. "I heard them talking. They think I've been influenced by Obi-Wan. Anakin too, he's been inside both our heads. They don't trust us..."

"They don't trust me either."

"They must, or you wouldn't have been elected to the Council."

"I'm still sure that's a joke," the Kiffar drawled. "And if the elections were held _after_ Master Koth came back to us, they never would have chosen me. Kenobi broke through my defenses as well." He sighed. "But you're right. There's a lot of suspicion right not, and it's not just the two of you. It's _everyone_. Nobody knows how Obi-Wan's powers work, or the limits of what he can do. And worse, they Jedi don't trust their _leaders_. Master Yoda is the one that cleared Koth, and he was ultimately a puppet of the Sith. A lot of Jedi are beginning to believe that the Force has left us."

"...did we do all that training for nothing, Master?"

"Well, _we_ didn't," he smirked. " _We_ learned something. Many of us learned something." Nodding, his chest puffing with confidence, he laid a hand on Ahsoka's shoulder. "As a group, we are better prepared. Not everyone is suspicious, Padawan, and when the real fighting starts, the Jedi will know what they must do."

"But will they do it?" Quinlan was silent for a while, his eyes closed as he thought.

"I don't know, Ahsoka," the Master finally said. "My talent was never in seeing the future, but in getting clarity from the past. It's...not the greatest power, perhaps, certainly not as flashy as visions of the future, but it's more reliable." He reached out his hand, calling through the Force to Obi-Wan's lightsaber, the weapon flying to his outstretched palm. "The past I just witnessed was rife with pain and loneliness that no Jedi should ever have to face. Fear and anger and suspicion lead to the Dark Side, as do any of the other negative emotions that cause someone to lose faith and trust in others. That's always where the Jedi have been strong. You know that." She nodded. "The others will remember. They have to if they want to live through this."

"You should call the Council to order to reveal your findings."

Quinlan scoffed. "I can't do that."

"Yes you can, you're on the Council." The Kiffar waved her off, but she could see the handsome face set in determination. "Will we be rejoining the war as well?"

Vos laughed. "Yes, but on Qui-Gon's ship. They haven't assigned me a new one yet, and, uh...my new clone battalion isn't ready to be deployed yet."

"The Senate says your clones were a bad batch, but I liked Cody!"

Quinlan nodded. "I did too. They weren't a bad batch, they just...met with the wrong man. There's no question that Obi-Wan took my ship, he was _always_ taking my things." Ahsoka looked at her Master with a look that said, in no uncertain terms, that she didn't believe him. "...alright, not always. But he once stole a girl I wanted!" That look again. "...by accident. Look, the point is, Obi-Wan Kenobi took my ship!"

"I don't mind working with Master Qui-Gon." She shrugged. "And Skyguy is alright. _I guess_." The Kiffar rose to his feet and began gathering his things, kicking piles of clothing from corners towards his bed and picking them up and unceremoniously stuffing them into a bag. "Master?"

"Hmm?"

"How are the Jedi supposed to fight if they can't trust Master Yoda?" The Kiffar stilled and dropped his bag. He didn't turn to face Ahsoka, opting instead to look into a corner as he thought. It was bad enough that he could feel those big blue eyes on him, he didn't need to see them too.

"...a lot of Jedi are going to die, Ahsoka. A lot of Jedi have died already, and the war has barely started. Yoda has been a thorn in Obi-Wan's side for a long time now. I imagine that the whole nasty business with Master Koth was done in part to point out how clueless even the best of us are. And Obi-Wan has always been very convincing, even before he was called the Negotiator."

"So he did this to shake our faith?"

"I'm certain that was part of it. If we lose our faith in the Force, than we become easy prey for the Dark Side, and we know he wants that. He's reluctant to kill us because he wants us to fall, that much is obvious."

"Why can't the others see that?"

"...they will, Ahsoka," Quinlan said somberly. "They will, or they'll fall." He offered her his hand, and she took it, the Master pulling Ahsoka to her feet. "Come on. We have an assembly to call. We'll see if we can't get those idiots to calm down and see reason. The Force hasn't been extinguished yet."

* * *

Jedi Master Depa Billaba stood on the bridge of the _Alliance_ , the massive Star Destroyer's engines humming as it sailed through hyperspace. She had never been one for violence, desiring instead to talk problems over instead of finding solutions at the end of a lightsaber, as her former Master, Mace Windu, preferred. However, she could fight, and fight well, and the Jedi Council considered her one of the three Jedi in history to be able to master the difficult and dangerous lightsaber form Vapaad, though she always found herself falling back on Soresu when things got rough. Especially in these dark times, she recognized the dangers of dancing close to the Dark Side to make Vaapad effective. She hoped Master Windu recognized the danger as well.

The death of her sister, Sar Labooda, over six years ago had marked her, and when the war began at the behest of the Sith Lord Count Dooku, the man that had allegedly killed her sister and maimed her body, she gave up her seat on the Council so she may see to it personally that the former Jedi was brought to justice. She didn't seek revenge. Depa was considered wise and spiritual, something that was common among the Chalactan people, humans that developed a unique culture and heritage on the isolated Mid Rim world. But she did seek justice, and the atrocities that occurred that day on Serenno had gone unpunished for long enough.

She felt Mace approach from behind her before she saw him or heard him, and she closed her eyes, smiling. "Are you eager to return to your home world, Master Windu?"

"Not particularly," he said softly, standing beside his former Padawan. "I don't remember it."

"What do we know of the situation?"

"Our army has been fighting in the sector to hunt down the Confederacy General, Grievous. They've been so far unsuccessful in capturing or killing him, and now he's on Haruun Kal on the orders of Dooku to bring the planet under Separatist control."

"I take it the natives don't approve of that," she said softly, smiling. The humans that called Haruun Kal home were all Force sensitive, a phenomenon that the Jedi Council had struggled to explain for hundreds of years to no avail. Some said that in the days of the old Republic, a Jedi cruiser had crashed on the planet, leaving the Jedi behind with no way of contacting Coruscant or leaving the primitive world. One thing led to another, and the next generation saw a host of Force sensitive children spawned from the coupling of the Jedi and the native population. It was as good a story as any, at the very least.

"The natives don't approve, no, but the planet's immigrants do. The world is split on the matter of the war, and Grievous is there to fight for control."

"It sounds to me like we're getting involved in a local affair," Depa said, looking out at the blue and white of hyperspace.

"This seems to be what the Separatists are doing. They're igniting local conflicts and using pre-existing disagreements to have a reason to invade planets."

"We'll stop them, Mace.."

"I know we will."

Depa looked at him, her dark eyes concerned. "We must be prepared for anything. If Obi-Wan is there-"

" _I'll_ deal with Obi-Wan. I hear he doesn't like to fight."

"I hear that's a dangerous assumption."

"I've always been a better duelist than him."

"Beware of overconfidence, Mace," she warned, turning to look at the clones hard at work on the bridge. "Thousands of lives depend on our success. We can't afford to make mistakes."

The other Master nodded. "I'll keep that in mind. Let's not get ahead of ourselves. Grievous is going to be challenge enough. He's killed four Jedi already, and it was a five on one battle. He's not to be underestimated. We'll need strong plan if we're going to win."

"We don't need to win, we just need to fight. Getting the Separatists to retreat is good enough."

Mace looked at the Jedi, eyebrow raised. "The war cannot end if their leaders are simply allowed to escape, Depa."

"I know." She indicated back at the clones. "They depend on us. The innocent on the planet depend on us. Saving lives is more important than victory."

"They're the same thing."

"Not always." The ship lurched as they reverted to sublight, the streaks of blue and white fading as the stars came back into view, and the planet Haruun Kal hung in space before them, a beautiful lush green that indicated a heavily forested world. And just above the planet, as if ready on command to duck behind the planet's orbit, were three massive ships, two which they recognized instantly as General Grievous' _Malevolence_ and Obi-Wan Kenobi's _Negotiator_. The third they recognized as a Republic Venator-class Star Destroyer that was painted in sinister black and red, and the Jedi both sucked in a tense, nervous breath. It was the missing _Dauntless_. They were _sure_ of it. They could feel it in the Force.

The lights flashed on the communications console, and the clone sitting in the seat swiftly called out, "Generals. The Separatist fleet is trying to contact us."

Mace nodded. "Put them through."

They turned to face the holotable, the device lighting up as the hologram came to life, and their eyes widened in shock to see the face of a clone, _not_ a droid, staring back at them. He grinned. "Greetings, Jedi. Master Kenobi welcomes you to his planet."

" _His_ planet _?!_ "Mace growled, fist clenching at his side, but the clone simply nodded.

"The fleet has been ordered not to fire on you. Master Kenobi doesn't want you delayed any longer than necessary." The clone smirked. "He says you're late enough as it is."


	37. The Battle of Haruun Kal

Grievous bowed deeply when Obi-Wan stepped off the _Umbra_ , a clone commander in black and red at his side and a positively enormous rancor crawling off the ship behind them. The cyborg eyed the creature cautiously, yellow eyes narrowed, but the rancor appeared to be docile when it flopped on to the ground, the Sith affectionately patting its nose before he strode toward the cyborg.

"Welcome, my Lord," Grievous rasped, his voice reverberating and metallic behind his skull-like mask.

"How goes the war?" Kenobi chirped pleasantly, and Grievous growled.

"The Jedi have retreated! _All of them_!"

"They won't be out for long," he assured the General. "Your slaughter of the clones has guaranteed that." Kenobi smiled. "Have you scouted the planet yet?"

"The droids haven't returned."

Obi-Wan nodded and leaned over to Cody. "Send the scouts to get the feel of the terrain." Cody saluted, replying with a swift, "Yes, sir," before he ran off to the transport ships, the hatches opening and soldiers pouring out of them in careful, practiced order. "I thank you for the MagnaGuard you sent me, my friend. They have been _extremely_ useful in training my troops."

Grievous' organic lungs puffed his metallic chest with pride. "I _told_ you they would be satisfactory."

"I never doubted you." He clapped the cyborg on the arm and led him off to where the clones were swiftly assembling a base of operations, the command tent already erected and the identical men laughing and joking at the expense of the droids that were getting caught in the muddy ground of the humid jungle. "What do you know about this planet?"

"Count Dooku didn't tell me much," he growled, ducking to get under the low entryway of the command tent. It was large enough for a human to walk through, but far too small for the towering cyborg. "I was sent to this system. I have been fighting the Republic all over it."

Kenobi smirked. "May I enlighten you?"

"Please."

"This planet is home to the Korunnai, genetically identical to humans in every way, except for one thing." Obi-Wan grinned. "They are _all_ Force sensitive." Grievous snarled, and the Sith just laughed at him. " _Not_ Jedi, though quite a few come from here, including Master Mace Windu." He closed his eyes, allowing the Force to flow through him. It was strong here, not quite a nexus of Force energy, but it was very, very close. He could feel it in the people, in its animals, in the plants themselves and in the images that flashed through his mind, he saw Mace Windu, his intense face narrowed in anger. "I would bet my command ship that he's on the way to fight, so you'll get your wish of fighting the Jedi soon enough."

Grievous cackled, his yellow eyes lighting with delight. "And I will fight this Jedi?"

"If you like. The Jedi rarely travel alone, so you can expect him to bring friends. They will work together, but Jedi nearly always split up. They believe they will maximize the people they can save by covering more ground, but it really just leads to splitting their forces and inviting twice as many problems. In this case, you and me."

Grievous slouched over and looked out the opening of the command tent when a loud, high pitched roar split the air. The Sith didn't move. "Are there predators on this planet?"

Kenobi grinned. "Besides us? Yes, a few, which I intend to use against the Republic. What you heard was my rancor. His brothers have arrived."

"You have more than one?" the cyborg wheezed, looking out of the tent once again and seeing the rancor in question, the enormous beast towering over two others as a company of clones began to fit the horned creatures with armor. "You have _three_?"

"For now." Kenobi rolled his eyes. "I'm sorry if that isn't enough for you, Grievous, I'm working on getting some more, but finding time to get to Felucia has been _difficult_."

"I'm not complaining," Grievous said swiftly, eyes turning back to the Sith. "How are you supposed to kill one of those things?"

"You _aren't_ , that's the point." The comlink on his wrist began to beep, and with a sigh, Kenobi fished out a small, disc shaped holoprojector from his robes, tapping the device on his wrist to link up with the holographic device, and the little disc whirred to life, projecting a tiny image of a clone. The man saluted.

"Sir! Republic Star Destroyer _Alliance_ has entered the planet's orbit. The crew has been contacted, and we have declared ourselves non-hostile. The Generals on board seemed to accept this, and they are en route to the planet via clone transporter shuttle with approximately one thousand soldiers."

Kenobi whistled. "The entire battalion?" He turned to Grievous, smiling. "They're expecting us." The General laughed harshly, and Kenobi turned his yellow eyes back to the hologram. "Have you scanned the ship?"

"Yes, sir. There's an additional battalion on board to serve as reenforcements, if need be."

Kenobi nodded. "And the Jedi?"

"Two, sir. Our records matched the Jedi with General Mace Windu and General Depa Billaba. The clone battalions they employ are the 187th Legion and the Horn Company, and our records from Kamino confirm the identity of their Generals."

The Sith Lord smiled. "Well done, Longshot. Command the _Malevolence_ to aid you and the _Liberator_ in blocking all outsystem communications. I don't want them calling for help."

"Understood, sir."

"If you see them launch any ships from this moment on, shoot them down and engage the _Alliance_. It isn't a problem if reenforcements make it planet-side, but I don't want any ships leaving the system and going for help. Am I understood?"

"Yes, sir." Kenobi flicked off the hologram, and flashed a smile at Grievous.

"Are you ready?"

"They only sent two Jedi?" Grievous rasped, disbelieving. "That won't be enough."

"You wouldn't say that if you knew the Jedi in question. Mace Windu is the finest duelist in the Jedi Order, and Depa Billaba was once his student and one of the finest Jedi ever produced. They are each worth ten of their brothers and sisters, they sit on the Jedi High Council for a reason."

Grievous scoffed. "You speak highly of them, like you _respect_ those Jedi filth."

"I _do_ respect them. As warriors, they are peerless, any fool can see that, and _only_ a fool would look down on them." Grievous' eyes narrowed and he growled, but Kenobi paid him no mind. "At the very least, Mace needs to die. That's not a Jedi I want on the Dark Side."

"Afraid, Kenobi?"

"A Sith feels no fear. Mace Windu's strength is considerable, and were he to bolster that strength with the Dark Side and truly embrace it...I can't think of much I'd want to deal with less than that."

"I will fight this Jedi," Grievous growled, and Kenobi arched his eyebrow.

"Do you believe you can win against the best duelist in the Jedi Order?"

"Let me test my strength against him and you will not be disappointed." Kenobi nodded.

"As you wish. I have a...personal connection to Depa Billaba I fully intend to exploit anyway. We'll get our forces to divide theirs, and we will pick them off from there." Grievous nodded his ascent when Cody entered the command tent, bowing to the Sith and saluting to the General.

"Master, Waxer returned from his scouting run. The two people that inhabit the planet are in open conflict."

"I'm aware of their war, yes."

"They are fighting in the valley just beyond the ridge we are stationed on. He also reports that a pack of the native Akk Dogs are living at the base of a volcano two clicks west of here."

Obi-Wan brought his hand to his chin, stroking his beard as he drew up a mental map in his mind, consulted the Force for the right path, and he quickly found it. "I'll be heading there, then. Cody, you and Ghost Company will take the rancors to the valley. It shouldn't take long for the Jedi to find us when the Korunnai start getting eaten. Grievous, you hang back and send your droids in from the south. See if you can get them to seek out and destroy the native settlements. When the Jedi split up, contact me and pursue General Windu at your pleasure."

The howling of approaching ships could be heard, and the Sith, the clone, and the cyborg ran out of the command tent. The Republic clone transports had arrived, flying overhead and descending to land across the long, forested valley. With a quick, sly grin to Cody and Grievous, Obi-Wan ran off, using the Force to augment his speed. It was time to begin.

* * *

By the time the Jedi had arrived in the valley where the native Korunnai skirmished with the immigrated humans, the battle had become a slaughter. Soldiers in black and red clone trooper armor shot indiscriminately at the people below while three armored rancors rampaged through the area, mindlessly slaughtering in helpless, screaming people, and the largest of the bunch chased after the droids in the valley as well. The destruction shook the very foundations of the Force soaked world, and both Mace Windu and Depa Billaba felt the keen pain of the loss. Windu swiftly commanded the clones to action, the brunt of his force running in to aid the survivors of the battle, circling around the battlefield in an attempt to get to the gunmen on the crest of the valley.

"We need to do something about those rancors," Billaba muttered. Windu clenched his teeth, bringing his lightsaber to his hand and igniting the purple blade.

"I thought one rancor was enough," he growled, and Billaba smiled softly, pointing to the line of droids marching away from the valley toward something they couldn't see, blaster fire lighting up the forest.

"Where do you suppose they're going."

"I don't know, but I can guess. Some of the survivors were retreating out that way when we arrived, there must be a village in that direction." Mace's dark eyes quickly scanned the battlefield. There was fighting in every direction before them, their battalion of clones fighting droids and rancors and other clones on the opposite ridge of the valley below. "I'm going to go help the villagers," he said, pointing his saber in the direction of the droids and activating his comlink to the clone commander, ordering him to disengage the rancors and follow him. With a swift affirmative, the Jedi watched as the clones in the valley disengaged the rancors and ran for the valley crest to join the Jedi. With nothing living left in the valley, the rancor's rage abated, and the creatures bent to gorge themselves on the dead.

"Keep as far away from those things as you can," Mace told Depa and the clones when they had joined him. "We'll deal with them when they become a threat again, but we can't afford to break our ranks on rampaging beasts before the planet is secure." The clones all saluted, and Billaba nodded, her eyes drifting to the north, blaster fire flying where the other division of clones engaged the living soldiers wearing black and red.

"I'm going to go help my men," Billaba said softly, drawing her own lightsaber and igniting it, glowing green light surrounding the area. "Com me when the village is secure, and I'll let you know when I've cut off the Separatist's retreat. With any luck, we'll have them surrounded. We should be able to force them to retreat toward the valley, and the rancors will take care of the rest."

Windu nodded and ran off, his clones following close behind him as he ran down the line of droids, his furiously quick purple saber easily cutting them down and reflecting back blaster bolts when the line of droids began to shoot. It didn't take long for Windu and the clones to scatter the neat, even lines of droids, making chaos out of their impeccable order, and in the confusion, the Jedi and the clones had managed to wedge themselves between the sea of droids and the terrified Force sensitive natives of the village the Republic now protected.

The droids kept on coming. No matter how many they destroyed, no matter how high the walls the metallic scrap of their frames made, more kept on coming, delivered on large droid transports that mowed through the jungle terrain as if the mighty trees were soft, new blades of grass. The clones preformed admirably, but there were simply too many of the droids to hold out for much longer. Slowly, Mace's battalion began dying. One clone was easily worth a hundred droids, but the droids numbered in the thousands. Mace's attention was drawn far off to his left when his clones screamed as they fell, their deaths accompanied by the sound of lightsabers. Narrowing his eyes, Windu rushed off and skidded to a halt in a space in the forest that had been cleared by the wide sweeping of several plasma blades, and he found himself faced with Grievous, General of the Droid Army of the Confederacy.

The cyborg's yellow eyes narrowed, his cold, metallic voice laughing harshly behind his skeletal mask. "Mace Windu," he rasped, the green and blue sabers in his hands pointed at the Jedi Master. "I have been waiting for this moment."

"Have you. I can't say the same. You're just another droid to me."

The cyborg hissed, his two thick arms dividing to give him four slender ones, and he reached within his cloak and drew two more lightsabers. Mace's eyes narrowed and he gripped his saber tighter. "If all you believe me to be is a droid, than killing you will be _easy_ ," the cyborg hissed, and without another word, he pushed off the ground with his powerful, mechanical legs and clashed with the Jedi.

Mace had seen the choppy holovid recordings from Kabal, so he understood that the cyborg was vicious, but he hadn't expected an attack of the ferocity that he currently found himself on the receiving end of. Grievous was fast, faster than any human, certainly, and Mace found himself having to fall back on defensive styles of combat in a swift retreat, narrowly avoiding the precise attacks of four sabers working in perfect harmony. He did all he could to maneuver the cyborg away from the village and his clones, where they could have easily been slaughtered by wide, arching blades. He briefly considered leading the General into the heart of his throng of mechanical soldiers, hoping the raging battle around them would detract the droids and the cyborg, giving his clones and himself an advantage, but he decided against it. Grievous was too dangerous of an enemy to deserve anything less than his full attention if he wanted to survive.

When they were a fair distance away, the sounds of blasters firing drowned to a low muffle through the thick, humid jungle, Mace suddenly switched styles, going from a frantic defense to a fine, focused offense, tapping into Grievous' emotions and finding hatred and rage. The dark eyes narrowed in focus, a sly smirk on his face, and Mace Windu began to feed on Grievous' emotions, allowing the cyborg's wrath to fuel his own powers and considerable strength. The Dark Side flowed around the Jedi Master, but never touched him, the aggressive style of Mace slipping effortlessly into the vicious Vaapad, and Grievous snarled in frustration. Of all the lightsaber forms he had practiced and mastered, this was the only one he fell short on. After all, without the Force, the style was not possible.

Grievous' eyes narrowed in rage, the golden eyes filled with malice as his temper flared, and the threw himself against the Jedi with increased speed, increased ferocity, the cybernetic implants in his brain switching lightsaber styles at random, alternatively stabbing and slashing at the focused Jedi, but nothing seemed to get through. The purple blade was moving so fast that Grievous could barely see it, the glowing weapon leaving ribbons of light surrounding the Jedi like a force field that blocked everything that came near. The more angry Grievous got, the better Windu became.

With a howl of rage, Grievous disengaged for half a moment, his wrists clicking loose as the locks disengaged and the sabers began to spin rapidly, the four deadly blades held out before him and rotating so quickly that leaves and debris were blown up from the ground, dirt and loam showering behind him as the lower two blades left long, deep gouges in the jungle floor. Finally, the Jedi's style changed. He moved forward, purple blade catching Grievous' two lower blades and swiftly moving them in a wide circle upwards, causing the cyborg to howl in fury when he severed his own top right wrist. The tide of battle turned, with Grievous retreating, and Mace Windu on a ferocious offense.

Grievous backed up as he defended, mimicking the tactic the Jedi had used earlier to pull him away from the fight, but now Grievous was leading him back toward the village, one hand tapping at the comlink on one of his arms when he disengaged and, crawling on his five functioning legs, scuttled away with the fury of Mace Windu on his heels. With the battlefield in sight, Grievous hastened toward his droids, still locked in combat with the severely diminished clones, and he hastened past them, boarding one of the droid carrier shuttles. Mace called out for the clones to stop him, and every remaining clone pointed their blasters at the cyborg General as the ship began to lift off of the ground. He was _retreating_. Mace's eyes narrowed in anger and desperation, and he reached out his hand, summoned the Force to him, and grabbed Grievous around the chest and pulled _hard._

The cyborg stumbled, nearly falling out of the craft, but five clawed appendages reached out to grab the hard, durasteel frame of the open carrier, keeping him on the craft, but Windu looked on in satisfaction as he watched the General's chest plate crush under the Force of his girp, and as the General escaped, Windu could hear a rasping, metallic howl of pain, followed by a hapless, wheezing cough.

With the Jedi General back, the remaining clones easily dispatched the remaining droids, the village remaining untouched. A smile of relief passed over Windu's face briefly before he looked across the battlefield to see his men scattered around it. When the battle had begun, he and Depa had split the force, leaving them each with five hundred men. Now, less than fifty stood behind him. He absently activated his comlink to contact the _Alliance_ , requesting for reenforcements to be sent, which the commander on the other end easily agreed to. Mace rubbed his eyes when he commed Depa. Weariness was not setting over him, but the loss of life was, the devastation here leaving the Force shaking with the pain of so many lives extinguished.

He sighed with relief when the beeping of the com stopped as it was picked up on the other end, but relief turned to horror when the com cut with an electronic whine, and then there was only static.

* * *

Depa Billaba didn't need to look very hard to find her clone troopers in the thick, untamed jungles of Haruun Kal. She simply followed the trail their bodies left. When she found them, the clones in white and purple armor were being corralled into a clearing and being ruthlessly shot at by assailants that seemed to be coming from every direction but beneath them. Depa ran in, her green blade grasped in both hands as she set to trying to defend her men, her sharp eyes finding their attackers, and, centering herself in the Force, she took off after the men in black and red armor.

When she began her pursuit, most of them stopped shooting and ran, leading her and the surviving men on a mad dash through the jungle and toward the base of a volcano. She stopped suddenly, a wild, vicious sound in the air, like a cross between a howl and a hiss, sounded through the air, followed by a chorus of similar sounds, some low, some high, but all hungry. Out of the woods behind them came a large, red, reptomammal with large, purple eyes and thick, spiked skin standing twelve feet tall. Billaba closed her eyes, and she felt the Force flowing through the creature, but it was dark and twisted, touched by the Dark Side, and the creature surrendered to the call. Behind the large beast came several others, the dark of the jungle alight with large eyes that reflected the green of her saber.

With a snarl, the creature pounced toward the Jedi, and she brought her saber around, stepping out of the way and swinging the weapon down upon it's thick neck. Her eyes widened when the creature hissed, but the skin was not pierced. The lightsaber had no effect on the Force sensitive beast's hard, spiked scaled plating. Her heart in her throat, she told her men to run, and the Jedi General and her clones ran, attempting to escape from the feral animals. On one occasion, she tried to channel the Force to stop or placate the beasts, but the creature only snarled and became more aggressive, it's own Force protection and the penetrating call of the Dark Side causing it to lash out against her use of the Force. Periodically, she would hear the screams of her men as they were taken by the beasts.

By the time the jungle cleared, they were standing at the base of the volcano, and Depa's clone compliment had been drastically reduced. Filing in among the slowly advancing beasts were the soldiers in the red and black clone armor, blasters primed and trained on the Republic soldiers. Her clones raised their own weapons, and all combatants opened fire. Depa did her best to deflect the bolts back at the enemy soldiers while protecting her own, but her force was too small, and the enemy too familiar with the weaknesses of clone armor, too familiar with the way they fought, too well trained. The Jedi had hoped these weren't clones. She hoped there were Separatists under there that had stolen the armor of the missing 212th attack battalion, but the longer she fought, the closer she looked, the more she knew that this _was_ the missing battalion, defected, as reported, along with the _Dauntless_. She commanded her dwindling forces behind her, deftly blocking all the bolts that shot toward her and her men. If she moved to attack them, the snarling beasts would attack, and the clones would be left defenseless. She couldn't abandon them. Not now. Not at the end.

A low, deep chuckle came from high above her on the rocky slopes of the volcanic mountain, and she looked up to see a man in a black tunic with sandy blond hair. Her dark eyes narrowed. She never spoke to him directly, but Depa Billaba remembered the face of Obi-Wan Kenobi. The shooting stopped, from her men as well, and she looked in horror to see them pointing their blasters at each other.

"Alright, boys, that's enough," Kenobi drawled, stepping off the rock and sliding down the smooth dirt of the volcanic slopes, his long strides taking him to his soldiers, all of them saluting and the beasts that stood beside them waving their tails in submission. "I can handle this. Take these guys back to the base and get them aboard the _Negotiator._ Tell Cody I want him to send a squad over to check on Grievous and collect the rancors if the clones are all dead. I want to pull out before the Republic sends a ship to check on the progress here."

The clone soldiers bowed and disappeared into the jungle, the red scaled beasts following close behind them. Depa held out her saber, looking between her clones and the Sith, who smiled warmly.

"Welcome to my domain, Jedi," Kenobi purred, arms held out wide and taking in a deep breath. "Can you feel the Force here? It's _everywhere_."

"It's _twisted_ by what you've done here!" Depa hissed, stepping forward, her saber pointing at his chest. "What have you done to my men!"

"Nothing!" he cried, stepping back and raising his hands in the air, showing he was unarmed. "You didn't see me do a thing, these clones, they're _so_ unreliable."

"Draw your weapon, Sith."

He sighed. "You Jedi are _so_ violent. I just want to talk, Master Billaba."

She observed him carefully, but could feel no hatred, no anger through the Force, a soft smile on his lips and those yellow eyes soft and amused. She gripped the saber tighter. They had warned her about this at the Temple. All who fought him reported the same thing. The Sith's words were poisonous, and she would have none of it. "Let my men go. _Now_."

"As I said, I'm not doing a thing." He laughed. "It would be an _awful_ shame if they started killing each other! Oh, I don't know if I could take that kind of violence!" He laughed melodically. "I just want to extend a courtesy, one Jedi to another."

"You are no Jedi!"

He shrugged. "My mistake, sorry. It _does_ get rather confusing, doesn't it?"

With a growl, she threw herself at the Sith, her green blade stabbing forward, and his red lightsaber seemed to come out of nowhere to effortlessly block it. He looked at her like he pitied her, and Depa stepped back, blade raised behind her shoulder and angled right at him. Qui-Gon had taught that aggressive styles would not works against the highly defensive Sith, and she had specifically been instructed against the use of Vaapad. It's close brush with the Dark Side rendered it completely ineffective against this particular Sith Lord.

Kenobi smiled, slowly sauntering toward her with his blade pointing at her face. "Before I left the Jedi, I was considered to be _the_ Master of Soresu, and I've only gotten better. You would use my own style against me?" She didn't answer. "I understood that you specialized in Vaapad. Where is that now, hmm?" A slow smile spread across the Jedi's face, and Kenobi laughed. "You're clever, then. Tell me, do you fight in Form Six? Niman, the Way of the Rancor." He grinned. "I didn't care much for it before, but after the acquisition of my pets, I've come to appreciate it." He lunged at her quickly, the green saber swiftly deflecting the barrage of strikes as she retreated. Kenobi pressed in, preventing her retreat when she found herself backed up against one of the jagged, volcanic rocks sticking out of the ground., the blades hissing as they locked.

"You know who was _very_ good at Niman combat?" he purred, leaning in close to the woman. "Your sister..." The woman tensed, her eyes wide and her breathing stilled. Kenobi grinned. "Oh, right! You Jedi don't know what happened. I was there when she died, as you know. Obviously, I didn't die myself." Kenobi reached out with the Force, but found her both unreadable and impervious to Force suggestion, which he suspected. The woman was remarkably skilled in empathy, which made her both unusually perceptive and unusually difficult to torture or influence. But he could do it. He just needed time and the right moment, both of which the Force would give to him.

"I was... _pleased_ to serve beside Sar Labooda in her final fight. I remember her being _quite_ magnificent." Kenobi smiled. "Would you like to know what happened?"

" _No_!" She grit her teeth and slipped out from under the blade, easily catching and deflecting the volley of swift, precise attacks from the deadly red blade, but she stopped when she heard a blaster discharge behind her. The Sith drew his blade up, holding it vertically before him as if he were waiting for something. Depa chanced a quick look over her shoulder to see two of her remaining clones laying dead on the ground, the others still holding their weapons at each other's heads.

"Oh no, I _knew_ this would happen," Kenobi drawled, his blade dropping to burn into the ground near his feet. "So many accidents..."

"...what have you done..."

"Oh, you Jedi are so suspicious. All I wanted to do was talk about your sister! You _must_ miss her."

"She is one with the Force," Depa growled between clenched teeth, slipping out of her defensive posture and attacking the Sith, Kenobi sliding into Soresu with a pleased smile on his lips.

"You _can_ say yes, my dear. I know it hurts. And she fought _so_ well." Depa struck high and swiftly brought the blade down low, and Kenobi slid his blade over hers, sliding it up to the hilt and locking them together once again. "Until Dooku took her arm." He smiled when the dark eyes went wide. "I did admire her strength, she didn't fall until he stabbed her through the leg. And _oh_ , the arm was bad. Severed right at the shoulder." Obi-Wan lunged back and swiftly brought the blade up, the tip of his saber neatly slicing up her right shoulder where her arm attached, not deep enough to cut through or disable the arm, but deep enough to send pain through the Jedi. Depa stumbled backwards when the red saber pierced into her leg, and to her credit, she did not fall or drop the saber. She just glared at the Sith, teeth clenched together, her hand holding the cut robes and the burning flesh of her shoulder.

"Just like so," Obi-Wan drawled, his blade coming to rest defensively behind his shoulder when he felt the Force swell in the Jedi, and the woman threw herself at him again. She was more ferocious this time, more in tune with the Force, existing in the moment and moving as if she hadn't just been injured. She trembled when another shot rang out, two more clones dropping dead, and that moment was enough. Kenobi grabbed her wrist tightly, extending her arm above her head, and the Jedi grabbed his wrist as well, keeping the blazing red blade from her. She focused on his face, those gold eyes patient, and she shook.

" _Why_ are you doing this?"

"Doing what?" was his innocent reply.

"You're killing my men!"

"Am not. I just want to _talk_. If you'd let me, _maybe_ your clones would be able to hold their resolve to _not_ let their fingers slip..." The woman fell silent, dark eyes looking to her men. "I engaged Dooku after that, and to keep your sister from rejoining the fight, he stabbed her right, _here_." The red lightsaber pierced her other leg, and the woman cried out in pain, stumbling back as Kenobi released her, but still she stood. "Alright, see, _this_ is why you're on the Council. I'm impressed."

The comlink on the woman's wrist beeped, and both pairs of eyes drifted to it. She answered it, heard Mace's voice for a moment, and then the com fell silent, sparking as it shattered under the pressure of the Sith's grip through the Force. For the first time in their time together, the carefree smirk faded from Kenobi's face, replaced by a displeased scowl.

"If Mace is alive, than Grievous has failed," he muttered, the golden eyes flashing dangerously. "If my friend is dead, I'm not going to be happy."

She shrugged. "I will be."

The smirk returned to the Sith's face. "I knew I liked you." This time, Kenobi attacked, more aggressive than before, and far faster, but Depa kept pace, deftly blocking the quick, graceful strikes that reminded the Jedi of the elegant style of Count Dooku. Again, the blades locked, and this time, the glowing gold eyes burned with malicious amusement, the carefree ease gone. "I fell after that. Dooku easily bested me, of course, and it was _so easy_ to give in to the Dark Side when my Master offered me a place at his side." He shrugged, pressing the blades closer, and Depa struggled to keep her own saber away from her face. "But Sar Labooda wasn't finished. She tried to kill me for betraying the Jedi, and she would have succeeded if Dooku hadn't defended me and pushed her back."

"I know how this story ends, and I don't need to hear it." She slipped under the blades, only to find herself on the receiving end of a ferocious assault. The blades locked again after more blasters discharged, more clones falling dead. "Dooku killed her."

Kenobi laughed, leaning in toward her and softly whispered in her ear, " _I_ killed her, Depa." He pulled away, grinning when he saw the Jedi's face twitch with emotion she was attempting to repress. The cracks in her ironclad walls were beginning to show. "It was easy," he purred. "She was badly injured and exhausted. It was hardly a fight." He slid the blade along her side, the Jedi crying out as her robes burned with her skin. "But I did cut her here," he drawled, swiftly lowering the setting on the saber and slicing in an upward arch as she brought the blade around, the red saber connecting with both her wrists, passing through them but leaving painful burns that seemed to sear down to her bone.

Master Billaba shivered and dropped to her knees, dropping her lightsaber, and Kenobi pulled it to his open hand before it hit the ground. She tried to rise, but she could not. Breathing deep, she closed her eyes and focused, hardly moving at all when she felt the heat of the red blade burning her neck as he held the tip of the weapon at the pit of her throat.

"I cut her other hand off," he whispered, not unkindly, "and she gave up after that. Not like you. You're strong." Kenobi scoffed. "You should be thanking me for killing her, a weak Jedi is hardly worth keeping."

Her eyes flew open and the red blade pressed forward, the lower setting making her lungs burn with agony as the saber pressed into her throat, but it did not stop the Jedi. She could barely feel it. Her hand extended, she tore her lightsaber out of Kenobi's grip, the blade humming to life as the Sith quickly withdrew, concern on his face for a moment while he got his footing and retreated under the ferocious assault of the Jedi. Kenobi calmed himself, sealing off all his feelings behind his thick mental walls, and he smirked as Depa Billaba slipped into her natural Vaapad, the Dark Side swirling around her, but where she would normally be cold and impervious to the effects of the Dark Side, this time, she was emotional and raw. He had a way in.

Centering himself in the Force, Kenobi kept up his defense, the swift, gentle moves coming to him easily as he looked for an opening, and after a flurry of wild, random strikes and blows, the green saber leaving a trail of light in the air, Kenobi found a mistake, a slight misstep because of the injury to her leg. He reached out with the Force, grabbing at her mind, and with the Dark Side flowing around her, he slipped easily within her walls, grasping her mind in the shadows of the Force and sending agony through her. The Jedi dropped to he knees, her lightsaber forgotten as she grasped her head and howled with pain. Kenobi deactivated his lightsaber and clipped it onto his belt. The fight was over.

"I know it hurts..." he purred, circling around her. "But if you give in, the pain will stop." The Jedi did not give in. She resisted with all her might, her unique ability to resist torture like this failing her when she needed it most. She had failed, and she had done it to herself. She had been warned, and for only a moment, her control had slipped, but it was all the Sith had needed to enter her mind.

Sighing when he felt the woman attempt to strengthen her defenses, Obi-Wan bore the full weight of the Dark Side down upon her, forcing her to the ground and her precious walls shattering. Depa's body went still, and Kenobi sauntered to her, turning the woman over with his foot. She was alive, her eyes unfocused, the dark brown seeming lighter as the Dark Side ran rampant through her. Kenobi grinned. He could force them to take it, if need be, and eventually, they would have no choice but to choose it for themselves. He felt her walls, broken beyond repair, her consciousness seeming to withdraw within herself to a place that even Obi-Wan, with all his strength, couldn't touch. It was of no consequence. This Jedi was done.

Kenobi sensed him before he saw him, and he held his breath, pushing his anger down and commanding the Dark Side to heed him and lay low. He turned to face Mace Windu just as the Jedi ran out of the jungle, adjusting his saber to a setting just below deadly full power. He'd break this Jedi before he slaughtered him. He had a point to make.

Mace's eyes narrowed. "Back away from her, Obi-Wan!"

"Why? It's over for her now, she can't recover from this."

Mace glared, reaching out with the Force and sensed Depa, her life still burning in the Force, but it was...hollow. He felt anger rush within himself as he looked at the carefree, easy smirk on the Sith Lord's face. "You'll pay for what you've done here."

"Oh, that's cute," he drawled, the smirk on his lips growing to a wide grin, carelessly waving his hand in the air and blasters discharged in rapid succession, the remainder of Depa's clones executing each other and falling lifeless to the ground. "Tell you what. I'll take whatever payback you deem fit for...virtually nothing, and _you_ take _my_ vengeance for what you have done to _me_."

"I've done nothing to you!" Mace snarled, igniting his purple saber. "You're finished, Kenobi."

"For Jedi, you lot sure are quick to draw your weapons..." His red blade hissed to life, the Sith Lord sighing as it did so. "You sent me to die against Dooku, Mace. Your final lesson to me was to kill my enemy as he ran me through."

"It wasn't like that, Obi-Wan."

"It absolutely was." He smirked. "But you don't want to talk. Come on, do your worst. You've _always_ been better than me. This should be easy." Mace couldn't agree more, and he threw himself against the Sith Lord, the purple blade moving in swift, furious, random slashes and stabs, the arching trail of the plasma seeming to make a barrier around him, but the Sith Lord easily parried each blow with the small, precise movements of his perfect defense. Mace's eyes narrowed, feeling the Dark Side gather around him, but never touching him, his eyes narrowed in focus at his opponent as he reached out to touch the Sith with the Force to feed on his anger and rage, the fire that fueled Vaapad.

Something was wrong. Mace fought ferociously, keeping on the Sith as he retreated backwards, to the side, never leaving his defensive posture and yellow eyes impassively observing the Jedi's movements, but while a fight against a foe would usually fuel Mace's powers and stamina, he found himself growing fatigued. He reached out again to the Sith's feelings, taking in all the hate and rage he could to restore his own depleting reserves, but he found that particular well empty. Windu looked at Obi-Wan, _really_ looked at him, and found not the rage of the Sith, but a Jedi's cold detachment. There was no Dark Side within him, at least none that Mace could see or feel, so there was nothing to use. Vaapad was a highly aggressive style that quickly drained the practitioner, but compensated by feeding off the Dark Side feelings of the opponent. Now, there was no Dark Side to feed off of, and the Jedi Master was left exhausted.

Kenobi chuckled, glowing eyes meeting Mace's, and the Jedi could feel the Sith's presence reach out to gauge his feelings. "You don't get to decide when you engage a stronger foe, Windu," Obi-Wan purred sweetly, and the Master felt his chest tighten. Those exact words had been said by him once, long ago, before he had sent Kenobi off to engage Dooku. It would be the last time the Jedi ever saw their brother before he fell. Obi-Wan had held on to that painful lesson for all these years. Windu's eyes narrowed as he re-centered his focus. There was darkness in this Sith, bitter resentment and anger that fueled him, and he _would_ find it. With a snarl, tapping into the reserves of the Force, Mace renewed his attack.

The furious assault was over quickly, though, when the Jedi's purple blae descended, and instead of retreating as he had been doing, Kenobi cut forward, effortlessly slipping under the blade and bringing the red weapon over his head, slicing up and through Mace's upper arms, and the Jedi gasped, eyes wide as his arms trembled and convulsed, the saber dropping from his hands and into Obi-Wan's waiting palm. Master Windu's heart was pounding in his chest, looking at the Sith Lord in disbelief. He was severely burned, his nerves screaming in agony, but his arms were still attached.

With a cocky smirk, Kenobi tossed the lightsaber back at the Jedi, catching it in a shaking hand and relighting the blade. "You're dead," Obi-Wan purred, sinister amusement in those golden eyes, and Windu tapped into that, the Sith's malicious satisfaction allowing the Jedi to banish his pain, the overwhelming fatigue losing its edge as he launched himself again at Obi-Wan. The Sith quickly slid back into his previous aloof state, and Windu found himself faltering again. This wasn't working. This Sith Lord fought with none of the rage, none of the anger, none of the passion that the Sith were so famous for. Instead, Obi-Wan came to this fight with the tempered focus of a Jedi Master, and Windu couldn't help but think that if things had been different, if Kenobi hadn't turned his back on the Jedi, he could have been one of the greatest Masters the Order had ever produced. Snarling in frustration, Mace backed off, the Dark Side aura around him fading as he slipped out of the mental state that made the use of Vaapad so dangerous. Finding his center in the Force, Windu fell back on the aggressive Ataru, the Sith's gold eyes gleaming as he did so.

Finding new energy in the Force, Mace pressed another vicious assault, moving swiftly as blades sparked and collided, the Sith grinning all the while. He was _enjoying_ this. Mace was tempted for a moment to return to Vaapad, but knew this to be a trick, and he wouldn't fall into the same trap twice. He was fatigued. The fight with Grievous had left him drained, and the first bout with Kenobi expended what energy he had left, with no way to replenish it. He couldn't feed off the impassive Sith, and the very Force around them was dark and twisted, and taking that within him could very well allow Kenobi access to his mind. His thoughts wandered to his fallen student, laying comatose on the ground not too far away, and the momentary slip in his focus was enough for the red blade to find its way deep into his leg, the Jedi yelping in pain as the Sith gracefully sidestepped the Master's stumble and, with practiced precision, drove the crimson lightsaber between the Jedi's ribs and up into his lungs.

The pain was unfathomable. Searing hot air filled his lungs, as if a star had suddenly burst into existence within him. The blade slid out of him, but the pain remained, the Jedi standing on shaking legs and clutching his weapon tightly. The Sith's eyes were glowing with delight.

"Dead..." Kenobi purred, adjusting the setting and the low humming of the blade increased in pitch as the blade became deadly, the weapon spinning around his hand when he had finished with his adjustments. Mace swallowed hard, trying to center himself again, but the intense pain was disrupting his connection to the Force, leaving him off-balance. This was not a fight he could win. He looked back to his former student, the woman broken beyond all repair, and he closed his eyes, and settled on what must be done. There would be no victory here.

"You could have killed me twice now," Mace growled, his brow dripping with sweat and his dark eyes carefully watching the gracefully stalking predator. He slowly backed up, placing himself between Kenobi and Depa, slowly drawing closer to the woman. "Why haven't you."

Kenobi shrugged. "Professional courtesy. You did the same for me once."

"That was a _lesson_."

"So is this."

Mace's dark eyes narrowed as he looked the Sith over, careful to keep his mental walls up and guarded. The man had to be in his mid thirties by now, but Obi-Wan looked exactly the same as he did when Mace saw him last. "You haven't aged a day," he said softly, and the golden eyes seemed to light with amusement.

"What can I say, the Dark Side agrees with me." The Sith held his breath when he heard carrier ships from overhead and frowned when he reached out to feel that they weren't _his_ ships. The Jedi's clone reenforcements were on the way. "Shall we end this?" he drawled, raising his weapon again. "I'm afraid we're nearly out of time."

Kenobi smirked when the purple lightsaber was raised, the Jedi centering himself in the Force, and then he turned, using the Force to pull Depa Billaba into his arms, and Mace Windu took off running into the jungle. Obi-Wan was stunned, staring agape at the spot where the Jedi Master once stood, and then his carefully contained rage exploded, the Dark Side raging within him in a furious storm that tore nearby trees from the ground. Aided by the wrath of the Dark Side, Kenobi took off into the jungle after the Jedi, his glowing eyes wild and wrathful, the Force guiding him after the cowardly Jedi Master.

Of all Jedi to run from a fight, Mace Windu was the last one he'd expect to do so, but here it was, the finest duelist in the entire Jedi Order, fleeing from battle with the Jedi's ancient enemy. It was _insulting_. He felt Windu in the Force running at top speeds a good ways in front of him, and Kenobi snarled, tapping into the font of the Dark Side and increasing his own considerable speed. He exhaled, a high-pitched, sharp whistle that carried the Force echoing through the air, and a loud, ferocious roar was his response. His rancor had been called, and it was coming toward its Master. Kenobi sent the command to intercept the Jedi, and he felt the rancor shudder in compliance, charging in to the jungle to cut off the Master's retreat.

When Kenobi had finally caught up with Windu, the Jedi had cleared the jungle and was running through the bloody valley where the rancors were tearing into the clone reenforcements, the massive Yoda destroying carrier ships in an attempt to crush the evasive Jedi. Growling, Obi-Wan jumped down into the valley, deflecting blaster bolts as he fell back at those who shot at him. He climbed up on to one of the smaller rancors as the creature raged, deftly jumped to the head of the other one, and used the Force to assume control of the beast. The Sith directed the creature toward Windu, the rancor galloping through the field and crushing clones as he went. When he was close enough, Obi-Wan jumped on to Yoda's back, the massive bull rancor roaring when he felt his Master's presence.

Windu had made it to one of the transports and had thrown his former student inside. He immediately began calling for the clones to fall back and retreat, sensing danger through the thick haze of the Dark Side just in time to step out of the way of Kenobi as he dropped from th head of his rancor, the furious beast batting at the clones as they swarmed around him. Windu had narrowly avoided the fatal, cleaving strike of the red lightsaber, but he didn't avoid the blade.

As Kenobi dropped to the ground, the vicious red weapon dug into Mace's shoulder and ran down the length of his back. The Jedi felt muscle burn as it split apart, not cauterizing fast enough to keep blood from flowing freely. The pain didn't last long as Mace's vision began to blur and quickly went dark.

Obi-Wan cut through a clone that stepped between him and the falling Jedi, and then he had to cut through another and another as a seemingly endless sea of clones surrounded him, all of them opening fire to distract the Sith as others dragged their unconscious General to the transport. He was _getting away_. With a vicious snarl, Kenobi tapped into the Dark Side and pushed outwards, the clones thrown back as if they were leaves in a powerful wind, leaving them easy targets for the three rampaging rancors. The transports began taking off, and Kenobi ordered the rancors to bring the ships down, but several managed to get off the ground and out of their range, including the one holding the severely wounded Jedi.

He focused and jumped up on to Yoda's back, leaving the other two to finish the remaining clones, and he urged Yoda to gallop full speed through the jungle, augmenting the beast's already considerable speed with the Force through their bond. They skidded to a halt in the clearing of the Separatist camp, and the Sith leaped off the beast's head and rushed to the _Umbra_ , grabbing Cody by the hand as he passed him and pulled him onto the ship. Within moments, the Sith Lord had powered the ship on and was speeding through the air, Cody settled and ready to man the forward cannons.

There wasn't a clone alive that could out-fly Obi-Wan, and he put those skills to the test now as he flew high into the atmosphere, Cody shooting down transports as they came into his sight and range. Reaching into the Force, the Sith Lord felt for the presence of Mace Windu and found him still alive, his transport already having joined a larger cruiser that was speeding off toward the _Alliance_ , the Star Destroyer in bad order as flames blossomed along its spine. Kenobi smirked as he pressed forward on the acceleration, avoiding the lancing bolts of plasma torpedoes and laser fire from the Separatist ships and the _Alliance_ , the Destroyer's cannons still clearly fully operational. Space was swarming with starfighters, and he had to carefully navigate around his own men to give Cody clear shots at the cruiser, but the Republic fighters were persistent and flew in to protect the craft. A few shots hit, rocking the ship, but otherwise glancing harmlessly off the shields, and with a growl, Kenobi activated the com, tuned to the frequency of his starfighters.

"This is Kenobi. That cruiser needs to be taken down before it get to the Star Destroyer."

"Roger that, sir," came the quick, terse response of the lead pilot, and he watched as all the ships fell back into formation and made a run at the heavily defended cruiser. The chaos formed up into order, and Kenobi shot in, green plasma lasers striking the wings of the cruiser just as the ship passed through the blue, atmospheric barrier that protected the hanger, the ship crashing inside and erupting into flames which could be seen from outside the Star Destroyer.

"Fall in behind me," Kenobi snapped over the com. "We're going to take the _Alliance_ down, assume position for a bombing run." The starfighter pilots quickly voiced their obedience, and within seconds, the attack run began, enemy ships erupting from the ship as if they had disturbed a hive of venom-mites, the ships swarming to protect the vessel. Kenobi's forces tore through the greatly diminished enemy, the fiery explosions of destroyed ships crashing against the hull of the Star Destroyer as the ship groaned, its engines wheezing, and the high-pitched whine of a damaged hyperdrive made Kenobi call of the attack, the _Umbra_ pulling up and leading his starfighters just out of the path of the _Alliance_ as its engines engaged, the heavily damaged ship leaping to hyperspace.

Kenobi leaned back into his seat and just stared into space. Melted, twisted steal and dead clones and debris large and small filled the space where the Star Destroyer had been seconds ago, but he could feel the rage swelling within him. Cody sat beside him, the clone not saying a word, but Obi-Wan could feel his anger and disappointment for failing his Master.

Taking a deep breath, he opened up a channel to the _Negotiator_ , the blue hologram of a clone displayed on the central console. "Longshot, dispatch your men planet-side to aid the troops there in withdrawing. I'll be down shortly to help bring the rancors in."

"Should we not pursue the _Alliance_ , sir?"

"Did you get a lock on their destination?" The clone made to answer, but Obi-Wan quickly waved him off. "Never mind, it won't matter anyway. It certainly won't make it to its jump coordinates. It may not even be able to hold up in hyperspace." He groaned. "Though I suspect it will..." He sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. "Any word from Grievous?"

"Yes, sir, he resumed control of the _Malevolence_ not too long ago."

Kenobi smiled slightly. It was good to hear Grievous was alive. Even if he _did_ fail him. "What are the damages?"

"We have yet to run a full assessment, sir, but all systems are functional."

Kenobi nodded. "Good work, Longshot. Tell your men I said so." The clone saluted, and the com cut, and the Sith groaned in frustration. "Cody, contact Ghost Company and command them to find and locate the Korunnai villages. We're going to round them up and take them back to Mustafar. The Jedi won't be getting anymore younglings from this planet, and I have a few... _experiments_ I need to run." He growled. "Since I failed to bring in the Jedi, untrained Force sensitives will have to do."

Cody nodded and quickly did as he was commanded, watching the Sith closely as the man's quick breathing slowed, his features relaxed, and his anger faded. "I'm sorry we failed you, my Lord."

The Sith waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. "It's not a failure, it's the will of the Force." Kenobi closed his yellow eyes and breathed deeply. "If you fight too hard against its will, the Force will lash back. That isn't something we want."

"As you say, my Lord."

"Windu and Billaba may yet have a roll to play in my plans. The Force would know better than I, my vision isn't perfect. For now, Cody," he drawled, affectionately patting the clone's hand, "we will be patient."


	38. Set Stage

Quinlan Vos stood in the medical wing of the Jedi Temple, banging his head against a thick, steel wall while his Padawan sat silently beside him. After the absolutely devastating loss at the Battle of Haruun Kal, the Jedi were dispatched across the galaxy, all with battalions of clones at their command, all with fleets of ships equipt combat the Separatist might. The Jedi Temple felt empty now. So few Masters were left, so few Knights, and it seemed these days that all Vos saw running around the Temple were younglings and initiates. At least _they_ seemed happy. They did not yet need to deal with the weight of the galaxy.

Qui-Gon and Anakin had flown off to bring the fight to Grievous, the cyborg General said to be in possession of a devastating ship that tore through anything that it came near, regardless of size. They had thought there was a good chance that Obi-Wan would be with him, seeing as how they had worked together on Haruun Kal with devastating results. Luminara was gone as well, escorting Senator Amidala on a diplomatic mission to Rodia that the Mirialan Master was certain would somehow go wrong, and given the Jedi's past with the Negotiator, she seemed the logical choice to defend the already influenced Senator.

Master Plo Koon was gone, trying to hunt down Kenobi's renegade ship, the _Liberator_. Master Yoda was gone, attending to a diplomatic matter regarding the King of Toydaria and the aid he could provide nearby, suffering Ryloth. Shaak Ti was gone, overseeing the advanced training of the clones on Kamino. His former Padawan Aayla Secura was gone, fighting to liberate some invaded neutral world. Kit Fisto, Adi Gallia, whoever the kriffing hell else, they were all gone too, and with Mace Windu still recovering in a bacta tank, the Jedi Council was largely absent from the Temple. They had been called to session, but Quinlan ignored the summons. He was still a month away from being deployed, and the Jedi didn't listen to him anyway.

The Kiffar groaned when his head hit the wall again, and he looked behind him at the two bacta tanks in the room, each one holding a Jedi Master that had failed on Haruun Kal, Mace's injuries physical, and Depa's mental. Neither were showing signs of waking up any time soon. For the tenth time that day, Quinlan's eyes drifted to the lightsabers on a nearby table, stacked with the folded robes of the Jedi in the tanks.

"Master," Ahsoka said sharply, the Kiffar's dark eyes looking to his Padawan. "You can't." He had smiled softly at that. Despite all the things going wrong, Ahsoka Tano was going right. She had throw herself into her studies, and in the time they had been in the Temple, her powers, both physical and through the Force, had grown exponentially. She took the Sith's mental intrusion into her mind very seriously. But she also understood that it was the Jedi that had failed Kenobi. The more she learned about him, the more complicated the situation became. She didn't want revenge. She just wanted answers.

"...I know." The temptation to learn what happened was almost overwhelming, since nobody alive had seen Obi-Wan or the disastrous fight between him and the Jedi. Mace certainly could shed some light on the matter, if he chose to wake up, but Depa...it didn't seem like Master Billaba would wake up again. While her body still continued to function, her brain activity was nearly non-existent. Her mind had been utterly destroyed, and nothing the medical droids or the Jedi healers did seemed to work. Lightsaber burns covered their bodies, burns that should have been fatal, but miraculously weren't. The burns on his own forearms held the answer to what had happened, as both Mace and Depa shared the similar burned rings around their arms. Kenobi's blade had been lowered in intensity. Death hadn't been the objective. At least, not at first.

"...how could Master Windu lose?" Ahsoka asked softly, and Quinlan sighed, dropping into a chair next to her.

"A few things could make that happen. A Jedi doesn't desire to kill, so..."

"Not even when they're fighting for their life?"

"Not even then. Though they do, death isn't the objective." He shook his head. "That's not what happened with Mace, though. It's not like him to back off, especially not when the Sith are involved." He took a deep breath. "He _could_ have been defending something. Maybe Depa was injured first, maybe he was trying to protect her."

"Do you think that's what happened?"

Quinlan bit his lip, thinking for a moment, then shrugged. "More likely, Obi-Wan was just better. It's been years since Mace fought him, and now, Obi-Wan is being fueled by the Dark Side. He's going to be stronger than before."

"...is the Dark Side stronger?" Ahsoka asked, her blue eyes wide and trusting, and Quinlan had to look away.

"...yeah, it is. The other Masters would tell you otherwise, but from everything I've seen, from everything I know to be true...yes, it's stronger. If it wasn't, there would be no reason to fall, no way it could tempt us."

"...is that why the Sithkiller fell?"

Vos nodded slowly. "He was betrayed by the only family he ever knew. He felt he was alone and in the shadow of a younger, more promising Jedi."

"...Anakin?"

"Yes. Obi-Wan fell for power, Ahsoka, I've no doubt about that."

The Togruta looked at the bacta tanks, their soft glow illuminating the Jedi inside. She slowly reached up and pulled the Padawan chain that hung behind her lekku. "Do you think he felt that way when I met him?" Vos nodded. "...I feel sorry for him. Do you think we could still help him?"

Quinlan shook his head. "Obi-Wan doesn't need help, Ahsoka, he's doing fine."

"But he's _fallen_."

"What does that even mean, hmm?" Quinlan pointed to the bacta tanks. "He's fighting back, _we're_ the aggressors. He's lost to the Jedi, but Obi-Wan isn't lost. I believe he can be reasoned with. He'll fight against us, yes, he'll kill us if he has to, but..." He groaned, running his finger down the long scar on his face that Kenobi had given him. "I don't know. I think, given the choice, he wouldn't kill the Jedi. Not all of us, at least."

"I was there on Christophsis, Master, he was _in my mind_! I saw what he did to you, he was torturing you!"

"But he didn't kill me, and I believe him when he said he was just keeping you out of the way. He only became aggressive when Anakin and Qui-Gon showed up."

"...he's going to kill them."

"You're right. He is." The Kiffar smirked. " _Unless_...he can be convinced not to."

Ahsoka crossed her arms. "And how do you expect to do that?"

"I don't know," he drawled, leaning back in his chair, his arms behind his head. "He and I need to sit down and have a little chat. Our relationship is a _mess_."

"Maybe, Master," Ahsoka drawled, leaning in and leering at the Kiffar, "if you weren't so hung up on a Sith Lord, you wouldn't be having these relationship problems. Why can't you just find yourself a nice Jedi, huh?"

"Sweetie, you _know_ I like me a bad boy..."

"Excuse me?" The voice came from behind them, and both Jedi spun around and looked toward the hallway to find a young initiate with a bleeding forehead standing in the doorway, his short, ruffled brown hair unkept and his blue-green eyes wide and curious. Quinlan stood, and a broad grin spread across the initiate's face. "Hey, I know you! You're Master Quinlan Vos!"

"Uh oh," the Kiffar drawled, pulling Ahsoka up and holding her out in front of him like a shield. The Togruta wasn't amused. "Whatever you think I did, I didn't do it."

"You're a Master on the Jedi Council!" the initiate cried, trying to circle around the Padawan, but Quinlan rotated the girl around to keep her between him and the youngling. He couldn't have been more than ten or eleven, and Quinlan Vos did _not_ handle children. "I've almost met all of the Masters! Almost! I met Master Luminara a few weeks ago, right before she was appointed!"

"If it was _before_ she was elected, it doesn't count," Vos drawled, and the boy stopped and scratched his head, pulling at the little braid behind his right ear.

"...yeah, I guess you're right..." he mused for a moment before thrusting his hand out to the Kiffar. "I'm Caleb Dume."

Quinlan grabbed Ahsoka's arm and forced her hand out, the little initiate not seeming to care who's hand it was he grabbed, and he shook it vigorously. "Aren't you supposed to be somewhere, youngling?"

"Yes," Caleb said. "Right here." His cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "I was, um...sent here. From training." He pointed to the cut on his forehead. "I... _fell_."

"You fell..." Ahsoka asked, deadpan when the Master behind her tried to keep himself from laughing.

"Yeah, see! My head is _bleeding_!"

"Yes, I can see that..." Ahsoka muttered. "Why don't you go tell someone that actually _works_ here?"

"I looked around, but nobody's here!" the boy pouted. "Nobody's _anywhere_. How am I supposed to become a Padawan if there's no Masters to take me?"

"You're still a little young for that," Quinlan drawled. "Alright, kid, sit, I'll get you fixed up. Ahsoka, go see if you can find one of those idiot medical droids. Tell them that Master Windu is dead, if they aren't being cooperative." Ahsoka flashed a grin at the Jedi Master and ran from the room, Caleb shuffling to one of the vacated chairs and looking about the room. His teal eyes fell on the bacta tanks, and he couldn't look away. Quinlan returned to him and slapped a wet cloth to his forehead, but the boy hardly noticed.

"Who's that?" Caleb asked softly, pointing to the tank, and Quinlan looked to see who the boy meant.

"That's Depa Billaba," Vos said, wiping the blood off the initiate, smirking when he saw that the cut had already begun to heal.

"What happened to her?"

"She met a Sith Lord on Haruun Kal. He entered her mind and broke it, apparently."

Caleb gasped, looking at the Kiffar completely appalled. "They can do that?!"

"They can do anything," Vos drawled. "The Force is their ally, the same as us. They just...don't use it right."

"...does she have a Padawan?"

"No, and she's not likely to. She's in a coma, and nobody thinks she's coming out of it." Quinlan sighed. "But the Force hasn't left her so who knows. Anything is possible."

Little Caleb crossed his arms and frowned, his blue-green eyes lighting up with determination. "Well, she needs to get better soon, or I won't get a chance to get any of the action in the Clone War before it's over!"

Quinlan laughed at that, ruffling the boy's already messy hair. "You're feisty. That'll serve you well. But don't be too eager for this fight. The Sith are no joke, and the one we're fighting..." He whistled. "He's something else."

Caleb nodded and turned his gaze back to the bacta tank, and for just a moment, Quinlan felt a rush of the Force, a deep and powerful pulse that seemed to link the initiate with the Master. The Kiffar shook his head and looked at them, but the moment had passed. Perhaps this boy was on to something.

Quinlan cleared his throat. "When are the Initiate Trials?"

"Soon. They were going to be tomorrow, but..." He sighed. "Nobody's here."

"That just gives you more time to practice!" the Kiffar insisted, pushing the boy from the chair and to the door. "Your face is fine. Get out of here and get back to training. You'll never be a Padawan if you're skipping class to come meet the Council!"

Smiling, the boy bowed deeply and ran from the room, and as soon as he was gone, Quinlan grabbed the two lightsabers on the table and touched them with the Force, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as he was flooded with the overwhelming memories of the recent battle. He had to know. He _needed_ to know. The more he knew about Obi-Wan, the more prepared he would be when he finally faced him again.

* * *

Anakin and Qui-Gon sat on the bridge of the _Resolute_ , carefully studying the reports from Haruun Kal. It had been nearly two weeks since the battle, and the Jedi had been bouncing across the Outer Rim in pursuit of Grievous, the cyborg General that had escaped their grasp on multiple occasions. He had even managed to survive the destruction of the _Malevolence_ , which stood as a major victory for the Jedi forces, as the dreadnaught had been tearing through Republic ships like they were nothing. Quick thinking by Skywalker and a trap laid by Qui-Gon led the cyborg into making a serious error, costing him the ship, but the General had managed to escape. He wouldn't for long, though. They were keeping on his trail, and they wouldn't lose it yet.

Haruun Kal had been a nightmare. Of the two thousand plus clones that were sent, less than two hundred returned, and both Jedi Masters that were sent were still in intensive care, and Depa Billaba had yet to regain consciousness. On top of that, the native populations were just...gone. Vanished without a trace. Aspects of this battle had Grievous written all over it, but the rest of it reeked of Obi-Wan. It was up to Anakin and Qui-Gon to discover which was which, as it would help them in forming future strategies against the Separatist leaders.

The holotable they sat at began to flash with an incoming call, and without looking up from his reading, Qui-Gon activated the holoprojector, the image of Luminara appearing before them. Anakin stood and bowed.

"Master Luminara. How's the Senator?"

"Quite well," the Mirialan said. "She's managed to capture Viceroy Nute Gunray." The caf that Qui-Gon had been quietly sipping was promptly spewed on to the floor, the old Master coughing for a moment before he stood.

"You captured _who_?!"

"Didn't he escape Republic custody _years_ ago?" Anakin asked, grinning widely when Luminara nodded. "Alright, way to go, Padmé!"

"Negotiations didn't go as planned on Rodia, then?" Qui-Gon asked, and Luminara shook her head.

"Not quite as planned, no. Rodia still declares for the Confederacy, but they are...more open to the idea of cooperating with us."

"So we captured the Viceroy on a Confederate world?" Qui-Gon asked carefully, his voice strained. "That isn't going to look good for the Republic."

"It won't be bad for us either," Luminara said, smiling. "The Rodians arrested him and turned him over to us. Senator Amidala has some very influential friends."

Anakin sighed heavily, ignoring a glare from his Master. "Tell the Senator to continue her good work," Qui-Gon said. "Are you transporting him back to Coruscant?"

"Yes, we're on the way now. We have him on board the _Tranquility_ , it should be a smooth trip."

"Just remain vigilant, Luminara," Jinn warned. "Two weeks and none of our troops have seen any sign of the _Negotiator_ , the _Liberator_ , or Obi-Wan. We expected to see him when we were assaulting Grievous and destroying the pride of the Separatist Fleet, but he's nowhere to be seen." Qui-Gon crossed his arms. "He's up to something."

"Or maybe he's dead," Anakin drawled. "Haruun Kal was a slaughter. Maybe he died there."

"I sincerely doubt it," said the Mirialan, shaking her head. "Master Windu reports that the Sith was alive at the end of the battle. Besides, Haruun Kal was a slaughter for _our_ troops, not for his." She shrugged. "Perhaps we should be grateful we haven't seen him. If he can defeat Mace Windu in single combat, than he can defeat us all."

"Mace is awake?" Qui-Gon asked.

"You didn't know?"

"I didn't."

The Mirialan Master smiled. "He regained consciousness yesterday, and Quinlan repots that today, nobody could get him to stop talking. Reports on Haruun Kal are being updated." Jinn nodded.

"We'll take a look, Luminara. I should contact Coruscant and find out how he's doing. Take care in delivering your package to safety."

Luminara nodded. "May the Force be with you."

"And also with you, Master." Qui-Gon cut the feed and quickly put in the call to Quinlan. "You know, Anakin," he drawled, the table beeping as the call was placed. "I have been thinking about you and the Senator."

Anakin swallowed hard. "Master, maybe now's not the best-"

"It is." His dark blue eyes observed the boy carefully, taking note of his every move and gesture, locking in on their connection and sensing the boy's feelings. "I think...perhaps you are not wrong to enjoy her company in...a romantic sense." Anakin's jaw nearly hit the floor, and the Master cleared his throat. "The problem, Anakin, isn't the attachment. After all, a Jedi draws their strength from their connection to others. A Jedi that remains unconnected to this galaxy will fail to understand what it is they are protecting."

"Y-yes, well..."

"The _problem_ ," the Master sternly said, "is when the attachment becomes possession. It leads you to put the needs of your loved ones before what your duty demands of you. It leaves you open to darker things if something were to happen to them..." Qui-Gon sighed. "I...saw how you handled your mother's death..."

Anakin tensed. "Master, I'm... _sorry_ for what happened there, I...I couldn't think straight..." Anakin felt anger well up inside him and, taking deep breaths, he managed to tame it. "I know what I did was wrong..."

"It was, yes." Qui-Gon took a deep breath. "But it could have been worse. _Much_ worse. You're...relying on others to get you through things, which is...human, I suppose. I relied on you to get through this whole mess with Obi-Wan, so..." Jinn sighed heavily. "I can help you to control and manage your attachments, so...you know..."

"...are you giving me _permission_ to have a _girlfriend_?"

"It isn't permission, it's... _acceptance_. If it goes that way."

"...is it possible to be a Jedi like that?"

Qui-Gon shrugged. "In the Old Republic, Jedi often had families. It was an important part of building the Order."

"...a lot of Jedi fell."

"A lot of Jedi didn't." Qui-Gon took a deep breath. "If you doubt yourself, Anakin, if you think you may fall because of your attachment, than I encourage you to avoid it. But if you think you have the personal strength to do it...I can help you."

Anakin nodded. "I'll...meditate on it, Master. Thank you."

The holotable finally lit up to find the image of Quinlan Vos covered in dirt and far, _far_ more disheveled than usual. "I need to get out of this Temple..." the Kiffar droned, shaking. "I need to get back to this war."

"That bad on Coruscant, Master Vos?" Qui-Gon drawled, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"I have been to the Senate _twice_ today!" he snarled. "They're in an uproar over the capture of Nute Gunray." The Kiffar huffed in frustration. "Which is _pointless_ , that Neimoidian sleezebag has _no_ bearing in the war!"

"He's a war criminal," Master Jinn drawled, shooting his Padawan a look when Skywalker started laughing.

"Yeah, yeah, who isn't these days," the Kiffar growled. "If Luminara was going to bring in a war criminal, it may as well have been Ventress, I promised that banshee a date. Or Obi-Wan! Why not him!" He sighed wistfully. "I have _missed_ having a lover's touch..."

"I think you'd have more luck with Ventress than Obi-Wan on that count," Qui-Gon said, his voice shaking with repressed laughter. Anakin's own helpless chuckling was proving to be contagious, and the Kiffar's frantic state wasn't helping matters. "And still, your chances would be zero."

"You just don't understand our love, _dad_!"

"It's not that, Quinlan. You're just not good enough for a cultured, city man like him."

" _And then_!" the Kiffar fumed, ignoring the other Master, "I had to teach the younglings. _Younglings_! Qui-Gon, the only ones left here are younglings and old, retired Jedi. If I have to hear one more story about the good old days from Master Sinube, I'm going to throw myself off the top of the High Council's spire."

"It can't be that bad..."

"No, it _is_ that bad, Master," Anakin whispered. "You have my deepest sympathies, Master Vos."

"I hear Mace is awake," Qui-Gon interrupted, steering the conversation on course. "What is he saying?"

"Lots about the battle, but none of it's good," the Kiffar said, looking away from the hologram. "He's really shaken, Qui-Gon. Apparently, Kenobi absolutely destroyed him."

"Did Mace say how he managed that?"

"He's being vague abut it, but...he says Obi-Wan's fighting like a Jedi." The Kiffar crossed his arms in front of his chest when the Master and the Padawan sat up straighter. "He says he was calm and removed, and he exhausted himself against Kenobi's defenses before he even tried to attack."

"That isn't at all how he fought with us," Anakin whispered.

"No, it isn't...Quinlan, do we have any news from Master Billaba?"

Vos shook his head. "Negative. She isn't waking up. The others here don't think she will, but...I saw something last week that makes me think they might be wrong." He sighed wearily. "There was been this... _initiate_. He's been running through here every single day. I try to stop him, but he keeps insisting that it's the will of the Force. And the _questions_! Qui-Gon, he never stops!"

"Younglings rarely do..."

"I don't know how Depa is supposed to recover with all this commotion." He sighed heavily. " _If_ she is to recover at all..."

"We'll keep her in our thoughts, then."

The Kiffar looked over his shoulder, then crept closer to the pickup on his end of the holoprojector. "Listen..." he whispered, checking again over his shoulder. "I took a look at Mace and Depa's lightsabers when they were out...no, stop, _don't_ give me that look, Qui-Gon!" Vos hissed when Jinn shot him a glare. "I needed to know what happened. Obi-Wan hurt her, yeah, but he never tried to kill her, not like he did with Mace. He _broke her_. He found a way into her head and shattered her mind."

Qui-Gon was silent for a moment, breathing deeply before he asked, "Any idea on how to beat that?"

"Not yet, but I'm thinking of something. You and Anakin bring out the worst in him, though. It'll make him dangerous, but I think he could start making mistakes if we make him mad." Quinlan shrugged. "He's also shown to be really cautious around Master Yoda. If we can get them to meet again, maybe we can capture him. _Or_ , I could sit down with him and talk to him, like I've wanted to."

"Terrible idea, Quinlan."

"I just don't think that playing on his field is a good idea, Jinn."

"Talking and negotiations _are_ his field."

"Since when has talking been the domain of the Sith!" the Kiffar cried. "We're Jedi, we're supposed to be the diplomats, not the Sith Lords! They're the ones who are supposed to want things to break down into fighting, not us."

Qui-Gon sighed. "I'm not the expert in Obi-Wan, Quinlan. Talk to Master Yoda, he should be able to help guide your actions. In the meantime...just stop looking at those sabers, Vos. You know it's dangerous."

"Yeah, yeah, I know..." he drawled, his long fingers tapping his cheek. "You take care out there. Mace says he may have crippled Grievous on Haruun Kal. Maybe you can use that if you manage to corner him."

"We'll keep that in mind, my friend." Quinlan grinned, waving as he cut the com, and Jinn leaned back in his seat.

"...do you think we can capture Obi-Wan, Master?" Anakin asked, and the Master took a deep breath.

"I don't think we can. Not unless he wants to be caught."

"So we need to kill him."

"...it may come to that," he said softly. "Pray it does not." Qui-Gon took a deep breath. "There may still be a way to get through to him. Let's hope that the Force shows us a way."


	39. The Tranquility

Obi-Wan had just settled down for a nap between Yoda and Cody, the rancor's rough skin scraping his bare back as he nestled against the thick folds of the creature's neck, the clone commander already asleep in the bend of the beast's elbow. He had found one of Grievous' lightsabers when he had gone to sweep the planet for the Force sensitive natives, and since he found himself in possession of an extra lightsaber, he decided to begin teaching Cody, as the clone excelled at the electrostaff. He'd never be as good as a Jedi, but with a saber in hand, the clone could cut a bloody swath through their enemies.

After their staggering victory, Sidious had again called his apprentice off, claiming that too many battles like that would end the war in short order. He was, instead, to spend his time in meditation and study, which was something that Obi-Wan did in excess as it was, and wait on direct orders from the Master, or the occasional summons from Dooku and his other allies. With the extra time he gained, Kenobi dedicated himself to study of the three holocrons in his possession, and he slowly began applying the teachings to his captive Korun. The process was slow, but over time, the Force sensitives began...changing. It was slow, hardly noticeable, but the Sith saw the change. They were becoming bigger, stronger, their skin paling, their teeth elongating and becoming sharper. And while they were slowly becoming more like beasts, they were also becoming more intelligent, and, best of all, they were completely subservient to the Sith Lord. After two weeks of consistent work, they hardly resembled the humans they used to be. Obi-Wan made a note to see if he could breed them when he felt they were complete. If this Sith Alchemy was altering their base genetics, which he suspected it was, than breeding an altered creature should be possible.

All other time was spent in combat training with the clones, or bonding with the animals he had collected, or training Cody to feel the one-way Force bond that the Sith had developed with him, or losing himself deep within Satine. They still argued all the time about his place in the war, or the politics in the galaxy, but they had always done that. Satine wouldn't be happy until the war was over. That day would come, but it wasn't soon enough. But this was normal for her, and after he had... _corrected_ her, there had been no more talk of Jedi or Sith. Everything between them was _fine_.

He was about to slip off into the deep meditation that constituted his naps when a loud slam of metal on wood echoed through the livingroom of his Mustafar palace, and the rancor jolted, knocking him out of his meditation and sending Cody tumbling to the floor with a startled yelp. Kenobi opened his yellow eyes and stared at the tense, lithe body of Asajj Ventress. His lips turned upwards in a sleepy smile.

"Hello, darling..."

"New boyfriend, Kenobi?" she drawled in her husky tone, pointing to Cody as the clone glared and returned to his position against the rancor.

"One can never have too many lovers, Ventress, you know how I love to collect them." He patted Cody on the shoulder. "Shh, let him sleep, I kept him up all night." Kenobi smirked. "Playing with my _lightsaber_." He laughed when Ventress balked, the clone quietly muttering curses under his breath at him in Mandalorian as he turned over.

"I'm sure your Duchess would _love_ to hear about your other lovers..." She drawled, tapping her foot impatiently on the ground.

"She doesn't tell me what to do," he yawned, looking at the irritated woman. "Going somewhere? You seam eager to leave."

She didn't answer him. She just tossed him the metal cylinder that she had slammed on the table, and the Sith Lord caught it. It was a lightsaber. Powering it on, the blade glowed a brilliant green. Before Kenobi could ask, Ventress plainly stated, "Master Tholme is dead."

Obi-Wan's full attention returned to him and he jumped to his feet, striding on long legs to Ventress' side and grabbing her arm, grabbing his tunic and robes and wrapping them around him as he lead her from the room. "Tell me." The assassin just shrugged.

"He just happened to be on Rugosa, and I was on a mission for my Master there. I remembered what you said, and took the opportunity."

"There is no such thing as coincidence..." the Sith mumbled under his breath. "The Force is with us."

"Not entirely," she growled. "I failed the mission, my Master was _not_ happy."

Kenobi's eyes narrowed. "That's the second time you've called Dooku Master, my dear."

"...well he is, isn't he?" She grit her teeth and stared at the ground. "He calls me his apprentice, that makes him my Master."

"You know you cannot be Sith, Asajj," Kenobi said softly, and he felt anger snap within the woman, a fury that had not been there before, the Dark Side flying to her when she called. Dooku _had_ made her strong, but she lacked control. The Dark Side would tear her apart.

"Maybe I can!" she snarled. "I'm so much stronger now than I was before! You were wrong, Kenobi, control is for _Jedi_!"

Obi-Wan just smiled at her, and slowly touched the Dark Side, the Force roaring as it left Ventress and filled him, abandoning the assassin when it was called to a stronger master. With a gasp, Asajj fell to her knees, snarling in rage as she reached for her sabers, but those too flew to the Sith Lord's waiting hand. Pale eyes narrowed in her wrath, Ventress rose, only to be forced back to her knees, keeping herself upright for only a moment before the Force brought her to the ground in a subservient bow. Still she struggled, but this time, she could not move.

Kenobi knelt next to her, reaching out with a manicured hand and laying it on her shorn head. "My dear, you've been with Dooku for too long," he said, his voice soft and kind and understanding. "He's using you, you must understand this."

" _For what_."

"For himself, of course. He's breaking away from our Master, he wants to kill him, and I won't help him do it."

"...why not?" The breath caught in Kenobi's throat for a moment. Yes, why not? Together, he and Dooku could defeat Sidious. Together, they could-

He shook his head to clear it. Even together, Sidious was more powerful than the two of them. He still had a great deal to learn from Palpatine, and abandoning the Master during the war would damage the Sith Imperative, one thousand years of work in the making, destroyed by Sith greed. And even if they managed it, what then? Kenobi would never serve Dooku, and he knew the opposite was true as well. He'd _have_ to kill Dooku to become the Master, and after that...then what? He had no apprentice, had no idea how to even go about finding one. When he had imagined training a Sith apprentice, the only one he could think of teaching was his own child so that he could create a Sith Dynasty ruled by the Kenobi line. But the child in question hadn't been created, and Obi-Wan had never seriously bent to making a child with Satine, though they engaged in the act often enough. Still, she had mentioned it before, and though he had erased her memory of that particular conversation, the thought must have still been there. Perhaps it was time to begin that process...

"Dooku isn't strong enough to be the Sith Master," was the answer he settled on. "Neither am I, by the way, not yet, so don't even think about it. The path Dooku is setting for you only ends in your death."

Ventress looked away from the Sith, seriously considering this, and then she nodded, the weight of the Force slowly lifting off of her, and Kenobi helped her stand. "...I will not lose my way again," she growled, her fist clenched tightly, and Kenobi smiled, handing the woman back her twin sabers. It was the closest that Asajj Ventress could come to an apology.

"You seemed eager to leave before, I'm certain that wasn't just impatience to tell me about your kill, which, by the way," he purred, kissing her temple, "I am _very_ pleased about."

"...I need help," she grumbled, looking away from the Sith as though it were a weakness to ask. Kenobi hardly noticed.

"What with?"

"Mas-... _Dooku_ is displeased by my last failure. He's sending me on an important mission so I can prove I'm worthy of him..."

"Oh, this again," he drawled, draping his arm over her thin shoulders. "What's the mission?"

She shot him a sideways glance, reaching with the Force to gauge his feelings and found him wide open to her, patient and calm and listening. There was no ulterior motive in him, and Ventress shuddered at the warmth of it. "Nute Gunray has been captured. I'm to retrieve him."

Kenobi chuckled. "Oh, I hate that Neimoidian..."

"So you won't help?"

"I didn't say that, of course I'll help you." Kenobi smirked. "But you just remember that I _hate_ that Neimoidian. Seeing him in Republic hands would please me nearly as much as torturing the life out of him." He guided her down the hall that would take them to the hanger. "What are the mission details? How did this happen?"

She shrugged her thin shoulders. "I don't know the details. Apparently, he was acting like a fool on Rodia, and Senator Amidala managed to catch him in a political trap by making him try to kill her."

Kenobi smacked his forehead and growled in frustration. "That _idiot_. How many times have I told him that _I_ handle all matters of diplomacy? He's just no good at it."

"He seems to think he is."

"Yes he does..." Kenobi sighed. "And I _happen_ to have that particular Senator in my sway. This could have been easily solved if he had Dooku contact me." The hanger doors hissed open, the clones there aiding the maintenance droids in running repairs on the ships. The _Umbra_ stood on the far end, her shiny black hull pristine, and the ship's engines were purring smoothly. He grabbed the clone that stood closest to his beloved vessel and asked, "Is she alright?"

"Fine, sir. We were just putting her through the paces. We're nearly ready to instal the stealth drive, as you requested."

"Now?"

The clone shook his head. "Next week, if we move quickly." Kenobi nodded, patting the man on the back.

"I'm taking her out."

The clone stood out of the way. "Enjoy yourself, sir," he said, saluting, and Kenobi and Ventress entered the ship, lifting her off the ground before he even settled himself into the pilot's seat. He tapped in the flight coordinates while he pushed the sleek, speedy ship through open space toward the local hyperspace relay. "Hydian Way to the Corellian Run where they intersect," he muttered under his breath, clever eyes swiftly going over the readouts. "This would be easier if I knew what we were looking for."

Ventress smiled slyly. "A Republic ship, presumably."

"This is your mission, not mine. Do you want to fail it?"

"...it's called the _Tranquility_." Kenobi nodded and entered the name into his ship's computer as they flew underneath the colossal might of the _Negotiator_ and the _Liberator_ , two of the largest, best armed ships in the Separatist fleet, now that the _Malevolence_ had been carelessly lost. He hadn't seen Grievous since Haruun Kal, but the cyborg had been losing fight after fight against what was shaping up to be the formidable duo of Jinn and Skywalker. Losing the _Malevolence_ was just the icing on the cake, as far as Kenobi was concerned. Dooku was surely losing patience with him, and Obi-Wan wondered when he'd get the call to bring punishment to the failing General. For...motivational purposes, of course.

"Shouldn't we bring one of those?" Ventress asked, her nose to the viewport and pointing to the Sith Lord's dreadnaughts.

"We don't want a battle, no. This is an extraction. It should be easy enough." The hyperdrive engaged as they made the jump, the stars blurring into white lines around them. He whistled when he turned his eyes back to his computer readout. "We're in luck, Asajj, the _Tranquility_ is under the command of Jedi Master Luminara Unduli."

Ventress looked at him blankly. "Should I care?"

"She's an old friend." He rolled his shoulders back, a smile on his lips. "Her Padawan will be with her. I'll deal with the Jedi, you extract the Viceroy. I don't think we should have a problem with the Jedi."

Ventress crossed her arms, grumbling. "Why do you get to deal with the Jedi..."

"I don't trust myself with the Viceroy. You may find him... _irreparably_ damaged. You don't want that happening to your mission objective, do you?"

"...have fun playing with your Jedi, Kenobi." Ventress smirked at him. "Try not to play with your food _too_ much, that's how the last one got away."

"I'm not worried about Mace Windu. And I'm not going to kill the Jedi, not here." He grinned, closing his eyes as he touched the Force. "There's a _Senator_ on board, my dear. I don't want to leave a bad impression."

* * *

All attempts to interrogate the Viceroy had failed, and it was making Luminara agitated. Her fingers drummed on the holotable, lost in thought, as she tried to work through a new approach. The Senate would not be as gentle on Gunray as she had been, and while the methods of the Senate Commando, Captain Argyus, may yield results, the Jedi did not approve. Torture was the way of the Sith, and engaging in such was a certain way to the Dark Side. Patience and perseverance was the way of the Jedi, and she would not relent.

The bridge rang with the sound of a communication from the cargo hold. They had recently jumped to hyperspace, and the clones ran customary checks through the ship to be reported when the ship was safely underway. She had fielded several herself in the past few minutes from the detention level, from the hanger, from the living quarters where the Senator resided. Cargo was often last to report, and this check was taking longer than usual. Luminara answered the call without looking, her eyes fixed to the floor in concentration as she ran through ways to make the Neimoidian talk.

"Report," she said absently, and a chill ran down her spine when a soft, cold chuckle was her response. Her blue eyes widened when she fixed her gaze on the smirking holographic image of Obi-Wan Kenobi.

"Hello, sweetie..." the Sith drawled, and Luminara backed up, calling for the clone commander on the bridge and her Padawan, both hastening to her side.

"Put the ship on lock down, commander," she whispered to the clone. "It won't stop him, but it will slow him down." Without a word of acknowledgment, the commander rushed off the bridge, issuing commands to his brothers.

"Is that any way to treat an old friend, Luminara?" Kenobi said in mock hurt, laying a hand on his chest and sighing dramatically. "My, how time has changed you..."

"If you think to make off with the Viceroy, Obi-Wan, I'm afraid you will fail."

Kenobi scoffed. "I've no interest in the Viceroy. Keep him, torture him, execute him, I don't care. He's a liability, and I'm _still_ angry about his invasion of Naboo."

"That was over ten years ago, Obi-Wan."

"I know! I've always been stubborn." He smiled when Luminara's eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"If not for the Viceroy, why are you here? _How_ are you here?"

He shrugged. "I just walked on! Your men are so accommodating! And I'm here for the Senator."

A pit dropped into the Mirialan's stomach. The Jedi had suspected that Padmé had been influenced by the Sith, but they only had Anakin's word to go on, and he was...unreliable at best. She didn't believe he _lied_ to them, but Skywalker's obvious attraction to the Senator was clouding his perception. It seemed to be true, though. "We won't allow you to have her, Obi-Wan."

The Sith laughed, his voice light and easy, and Luminara could see how the man had so quickly risen in galactic esteem. He was charismatic, terribly so, which wasn't a far departure from what he used to be. It was just...changed. "I don't want to have her, I just want to talk. Finding her in a situation where that has been possible has been difficult. But _you_ , Luminara...you're reasonable. You've always been dedicated to peace. We can find a way to end this war, isn't that what you want?"

Luminara muted the feed and steepled her fingers, bright blue eyes observing the Sith's easy, carefree form. "Master?" her Padawan quietly asked, and Luminara inclined her head, but did not look away from the Sith. "We do want peace, the Jedi shouldn't even be involved in this conflict."

"He's lying, Padawan. He may wish to talk, but he does not want peace."

"He isn't acting hostile, Master..."

"And if we go into that cargo hold, we'll find bodies, I'm certain of it. He killed his way on to this ship."

Barris nodded, accepting her Master's wisdom, her bright blue eyes observing the Sith as he waited, head tilted to the side and observing them in return, those eyes intelligent and analytical, apparent even over the flat blues of the hologram. "Did he come here with help?"

"Obi-Wan is never alone," Luminara said softly. "Every time we've encountered him, he's come in with a partner. Mark my words, he isn't alone now. Now," she drawled, looking the form of her old friend over, "are you the distraction, or the main event, Obi-Wan..."

"Can't he be both?" Barriss asked. "He can control people, we know this. He can commandeer our own soldiers."

"I'll admit, the situation is tricky..." Barriss had an uneasy feeling in her stomach, the very fabric of the Force disturbed, and she stood closer to her Master when the Mirialan un-muted the feed. "I thank you for bringing yourself to the Republic. It saves us the trouble of attempting to capture you."

Kenobi sat up on one of the boxes stacked around the hold. "If you would like to think of me as your prisoner, by all means. But I expect to be treated like any other valuable capture." He smirked. "Come interrogate me, Jedi, I love a good interrogation."

"We'll pass, thank you. Master Yoda can handle you better than I."

The smile dropped from the Sith's face. "You know that isn't going to happen," he said, his voice low and dangerous, and Master Unduli could feel her chest tighten. "Let me tell you exactly how this is going to go, my old friend. I'm going to have free reign of your ship in...oh, give it three minutes, I'll be generous. And when I'm out of this hold, which you seem to foolishly think can hold me, I'm going to go see Senator Amidala, and there's nothing you can do to stop me."

"You were quite insistent that peace could not be achieved in your last meeting with the Senate," Luminara said, harder than she intended. "She will not accept your terms, not after your slaughter on Haruun Kal."

"Mm, how right you are. But I'm not here to discuss peace with her, I wanted to discuss it with _you_. I have...a keen interest in maintaining a close friendship with my former Jedi brothers and sisters." Kenobi laughed lightly. "No, the matter I have to discuss with Padmé is... _personal_."

"I won't allow you to influence her further," the Mirialan said, eyes narrowing with determination, but Kenobi just smiled.

"Three minutes, Luminara. May the Force be with you."

Kenobi cut the com, and he leaned back, bracing his hands on the back of the crate he sat upon. Yawning, he looked over to where Ventress calmly stood with the enthralled Captain Argyus, safely out of range of the holographic projector. "Captain," he purred, and the Senate Commando shook, the last shreds of resistence leaving his body. "I need you to go to the bridge. Luminara's too smart to leave Gunray unguarded, and I want you to take charge of his protection. Am I understood?"

"Yes, Master..." the man droned, and Kenobi grinned wickedly, leaping off his perch and striding over to pat the man on his cheek.

"There's a good boy. When Ventress arrives, you are to aid her in transporting the prisoner back to my ship in whatever way she deems fit. I don't care if you are commanded to fight your way out, or fake an escort to safety, you just do as she commands." The man simply nodded absently, but Obi-Wan knew he had heard and understood the command. They always did. "Go now, run to the Jedi. Do as you're commanded." With a salute, the commander ran off, using his access codes to override the lock down and leave the cargo hold, the heavy doors sliding closed behind them and hissing as they locked.

"You shouldn't have given the Jedi any time to prepare!" Ventress hissed, and Kenobi simply rolled his eyes and kissed her forehead, much to her displeasure.

"Ventress, dear, if we simply rushed in, the entire ship would be on high alert."

"They're on high alert now!"

" _Yes_ , but now _I'm_ the Jedi's focus. Luminara is smart. _Very_ smart. She will not allow her Padawan out of her sight."

"Maybe you can _succeed_ in killing these Jedi, Kenobi." Ventress held her breath when fear teased at the edges of her mind. The Sith's face had darkened, and she could feel the Dark Side stirring.

" _Patience_ ," he hissed, those yellow eyes glowing. "No Jedi will die here today. Luminara will fall. Her Padawan will fall. Maybe not today, but soon, before the end of this war."

Ventress crossed her arms. "Dooku says you're either a coward or incompetent. He says there's too much Jedi in you still."

"Dooku clearly doesn't know me very well." He closed his eyes, breathing deep and even, the anger within him a low simmer. "That, or he's _very_ short-sighted. I'll admit that my failure to kill Mace Windu was... _unfortunate_." He took a deep breath. "But it was also the will of the Force that he live, or he wouldn't have escaped. Besides, a living example of how one of the greatest Jedi to ever live can fail in battle against the Sith may be _exactly_ what I need to further weaken the Jedi."

"Wouldn't his death accomplish the same thing?"

Obi-Wan growled dangerously. "I _thought_ so, but the Force disagreed."

"Dooku says-"

" _I don't care what Dooku says_!" Ventress shrank back, putting as much distance as she could between herself and the furious Sith Lord, her hands flying to her lightsabers, but too afraid to draw them. She didn't know what might happen to her if she did. Kenobi breathed deeply, and slowly, the Dark Side abated, his tense, angry features relaxing. "The Force," he explained slowly, "has shifted in our favor. We know it has, because if it hadn't, every single Jedi in the Order would be able to sense my Master, who sits _right beneath them_. If we begin to doubt it, if we try to bend it to our will, as Dooku is trying to do, than it will snap back at us, and we will lose it. The Force will return to the Jedi, and the Sith will be destroyed."

"...it's the will of the Force that the Jedi fall?"

"It is. They will fall, or they will die. There is no other option." Kenobi took a deep breath, smoothing his hair back. "Go, Ventress. Make your way to the target. I'll handle the Jedi." The assassin nodded, deftly jumped up onto the high stacked crates, and activated her lightsabers, cutting a hole into the durasteel ceiling and climbed up into the inner workings of the ship. With a deep breath, Kenobi sauntered to the vault-like door of the cargo hold, activated his own lightsaber and, whistling, began cutting a doorway through the thick, reenforced metal.

It didn't take long for the Sith to get through, using the Force to push the heavy slab away, the strength of it striking the clones that were guarding the hallway, crushing them between the cut steel and the far wall. Blasters immediately began firing into the hold, but Kenobi just stood behind the wall, waiting for a moment for the shooting to stop, the clones taking a moment to prime their next charges, and he extended his hand through the opening, channeling the Force to lift the soldiers into the air, their bodies writhing as the life was choked out of them. Smiling, he stepped around the corner, clipping his saber back onto his belt when he deemed the clones dead. Obi-Wan only managed to step over the bodies of two clones before Luminara Unduli and Barriss Offee rounded the corner, the Mirialans balking, their eyes wide in horror when they saw the company of clones all laying dead upon the floor. Eyes narrowed, the Jedi's sabers flew to their hands, the blue and green blades humming to life, and Kenobi grinned, hands in the air.

"I surrender," he purred, smiling when Luminara took a deep, calming breath.

"I accept your surrender." The Master held out her hand. "Give me your weapon." To her surprise, Obi-Wan tossed her his lightsaber.

"You _murdered_ these men!" Barriss gasped, raising her weapon, emboldened by the man's surrender.

"No I didn't, they were shooting at me. What was I supposed to do?"

Luminara stopped her Padawan when the girl looked like she would rise to respond to the Sith. "Let go, Barriss," she quietly warned. "This Sith will prey on your emotions. We have his lightsaber, but he is never without a weapon."

"...yes, Master."

Kenobi grinned, reaching out with the Force to gauge the Jedi, the Master blank, impassive, and the Padawan nervous and uncertain, bothered by the death that surrounded her. He could use this. "Shall we talk? I'm your prisoner now."

"No, you will be silent," Luminara said sternly, pointing her weapon toward her old friend. "I feel it's safe to assume that you won't be a reasonable prisoner and come quietly with us to your cell."

"That's correct."

"Than this is _hardly_ a surrender."

Kenobi shrugged. "Call it what you like, but _you_ have my weapon."

"Than we are at an impasse," Luminara said, her eyes lighting up for a moment before she loudly groaned. "You're stalling for time. Barriss, contact the bridge, tell them-" Kenobi's lightsaber was ripped out of her hand, the hilt flying to his outstretched palm, and before she could see him move, the Sith Lord was bearing down on them, red blade ignited and swinging in graceful, deadly arcs, the burning plasma striking the walls and showering the combatants with sparks, and Luminara flinched, gasping in pain as one of the embers struck her in the eye, impairing her vision severely, and the Sith dashed past them, skidding to a halt behind the Mirialans and using the Force to push the two into the cargo hold.

Barriss jumped swiftly to her feet, rushing to her Master and using the Force to help clear her vision. The eye was red, irritated, but not damaged. Within a few days, it would be fine. Neither Mirialan had to say a word to each other to know what they must do, and they took off down the halls in search of the Sith Lord. Fortunately, he was easy to find, as the halls he had traversed were covered in long, smouldering lightsaber burns in the thick steel. The clones were shouting commands at each other, shooting when they saw him, and tending to their wounded when he disappeared from view. The trail led to an elevator shaft up to the command center, the door hopelessly destroyed, and a group of clones surrounding the open shaft and shooting down inside it. The Jedi looked down, a long, burning trail leading into the depths of the shaft. The elevator was above them, so the Sith had nowhere to go but down into the workings of the ship. The Mirialans jumped down in pursuit.

The shaft led out into the engines, long catwalks and bridges linking the hyperdrive to the powerful turbines, and the Jedi stalked out cautiously, standing back to back to cover each other. The far end of the bridge they were standing upon had been cut, the saber burns haphazard and random across several walkways. Tracking the Sith would require the talents of no less than Quinlan Vos, so they stood, reaching out with the Force to try and sense a man they knew was cloaking his presence, Luminara taking a moment to rub her burning eye. It was Barriss that saw it, as she was facing the way they came in to properly cover her Master's back. The red lightsaber ignited from over the side of the bridge and dug into the walkway, the weapon easily cutting through the steel, and the entire bridge shook. The Sith was _underneath_ the bridge, and he was cutting out its final support.

They couldn't move fast enough, and the upper walkways were too high to jump up to, even for the most talented Jedi. The Mirialan's braced themselves for impact, grabbing on tightly to the railings as the bridge fell, striking the foundations of the hull far below. The Jedi were knocked from the bridge as it struck beams and supports and turbines, breaking apart as it fell into the unbearable heat of the engine vents. Each breath was searing, and despite their attempts to stay together, the impact knocked the Jedi to separate sides of the rubble. Luminara only just managed to ignite her blade and bring it around to block Kenobi's, the crimson blade blending in with the engine's red lighting and making it nearly imperceptible.

She focused instead on the Sith's movement, his furious assault belaying where his strikes would come from, where he would strike next, and Luminara remained focused in the Force. She could feel the Sith reach to her, feel him clawing at her mental walls, but she would not let him in. There was nothing for her on the Dark Side.

Kenobi's eyes glowed in the red shadows, a delighted, amused smile on his face. "You've improved," he drawled. "I was always better than you, though."

Luminara couldn't keep a small smile from her face. "Not always."

"No, not always," he conceded. "But I was before I left. I was before I fell. And I am now."

The Jedi laughed. "Fell? That's a strange way for a Sith to describe their acceptance of the Dark Side."

He struck high, blade circling above his head to alternatively strike down at either side of her body, but Luminara easily blocked every strike. "I don't delude myself. I fell from the Jedi, and I rose with the Sith. But I _did_ fall, my friend," he said, almost sadly, and Luminara could feel the slightest thread of the Force between them. Their old bond was still there. She bit her lip and looked into those golden eyes.

"It isn't too late, Obi-Wan. You can come back."

"It is too late, Luminara."

"It's _never_ too late." She easily blocked another volley of strikes, high, low, slashing and stabbing, she effortlessly parried them all, but she knew the Sith's heart wasn't in this fight. "I can help you, Obi-Wan, _please_." He moved almost too fast for her too see, but certainly too fast to avoid the vice-like grip around the wrist that grasped her saber, and she was pulled around to slam against the thick, hot durasteel wall, the hilt of his own saber pinning her other arm above her head, and he straddled her, pressing close, the two sabers burning deep holes into the wall on either side of her.

"Do you mean that, Luminara?" Kenobi whispered, leaning in close to her, those golden eyes seeming to burn a hole into her. He shifted quickly, grabbing both her wrists with his free hand and slamming them above her, the green saber dropping to the ground with an echoing clang. He tossed his own weapon to the side, his now free hand coming to stroke the woman's tattooed cheek, and Luminara wriggled, trying to get free from the Sith's grasp, but she couldn't dislodge herself from his considerable strength. She swallowed hard, and looked into eyes that did not belong to her friend Obi-Wan Kenobi.

"I mean it," she managed to say weakly, and the Sith Lord let out a shivering breath.

"I could use a friend," he muttered, looking away for a moment and breathing deeply. When he looked back to her, Luminara could see fire in the golden eyes. "Can you feel the Force, my friend?" he asked, his voice soft and breathless. "It's shifted. It's _different_. The will of the Force has changed. It's become dark. Clouded. Your Masters can't see it, can't sense it, because they are on the wrong side of it." Kenobi grabbed her chin when she looked away, forcing her eyes back to his. "But _I_ can. I see things so clearly now. Visions, the future, _all of it_. I follow the will of the Force, no matter where it takes me. As a Jedi, that's _your_ duty as well."

She looked at him for a long moment, sweat dripping down both their faces in the oppressive heat, and finally, Luminara smiled. "I understand."

"Do you."

She nodded. "But I can't go with you. The Dark Side has misled you, Obi-Wan. I have no doubt you have clarity you never had as a Jedi. You are stronger, for certain. And you are _not_ lost."

Kenobi smiled. "One day, Luminara, you will understand." He pulled her away from the wall, and both sabers flew to their master's hands, and they clashed again, but just for a moment. Using the Force, Kenobi reached out to a ramp above him, jolting it lose and the hinges of the platform broke, dropping large, steel cylinders down upon Master Luminara, the Jedi reaching up to slow the falling metal, but it was too much. She dodged out of the way, the large beams striking the ground with an earsplitting clang, but she found herself wedged between the wall and the beams, and she didn't have the strength to extract herself.

Barriss had finally managed to climb her way out of the burning mess she was trapped in just in time to see her Master trapped. Panicked, she carefully climbed down the wreckage left by the bridge they fell with and started toward Luminara. She didn't get far, seized by the wrist and pulled against the strong body of the Sith Lord. His strong arm reached around her waist and grabbed her saber, tossing it aside and digging his long fingers into her thin hip.

"I don't think we've been properly introduced, young one," Kenobi purred in her ear, the Padawan shivering and struggling against him, but she stopped when she felt the Force around her, his presence using her momentary fear to enter her mind and command her to be still. "I'm Obi-Wan Kenobi."

"I-I was there on Mandalore," she stammered, looking to her struggling Master and feeling the Force swell within her. With great effort, she pushed past the Sith's commands and managed to weakly begin struggling again.

"Mm, I remember..." Kenobi gripped the girl closer. "I felt doubt in you then, and I feel it in you now."

"I-I trust in the will of the Force-"

"Yes, yes, as do I, my little Padawan," Obi-Wan said, his tone dismissive. "So tell me, what are the Jedi doing in the war, hmm?" He felt the little Mirialan gasp, and he grinned wickedly against her neck. "All this death, all this violence...what are the Jedi doing contributing to it?"

"W-we're fighting against you!"

" _I_ wanted peace," he purred. "The Jedi allow this war to continue simply by fighting. They have lost their way..." The small body tensed, and Luminara began shouting to her student, struggling against the beams that trapped her and desperately reaching out to the girl. Kenobi let Barriss go, a smirk on his face when the Padawan reeled on him, calling her saber back to her and lighting the blue blade. "And now you want to fight instead of helping your Master?" he chided. "Go, Barriss. Save your Master. I've no quarel with you, and I assure you, you'll be safe. _If_ you turn around now."

Teeth grit, the Padawan deactivated her saber and rushed to Luminara, and Kenobi turned from them, deftly leaping up upon turbines and engines and walkways and leaving the Jedi down below. He had one last thing to do. It was a long way back up the elevator shaft, but the Sith was aided by the Force and the rigorous training regimens that he had been completing with Cody. He'd have to thank the clone when he returned. Kenobi cut the bottom of the elevator out when he reached it, climbing inside and tapping the elevator controls to bring him to the level where he knew the Senator was staying, but frowned when the lights began to flash, a warning siren going off. The lock-down was still in effect, and he no doubt alerted the clones to his location. Kenobi couldn't help but think bitterly that he should have gatten Argyus to give him the override codes. With a sigh, he cut the top out of the elevator, the circular , discarded piece falling through the hole in the floor, clanging as it fell down the long length of the shaft, and Kenobi continued his climb.

When he was certain he had the correct floor, he forced the doors open and leapt up into the hallway, rolling his eyes when clone soldier turned to point their weapons at him, and he brought the Dark Side down upon them, violently entering their minds, which was an easy thing to do made easier by a score of identical brains. The clones fell to the ground, convulsing and writhing, and Obi-Wan easily strolled through the hall to the room where he felt Padmé's presence. He used the Force to pry the door open, and he stepped inside, letting go of his Force hold and the door quickly shut, mechanics whirring as the heavy steel locked behind him. He couldn't help but smile broadly when he saw Amidala, her eyes wide with shock, pull a blaster from her side table and point it right at him.

Kenobi whistled. "I'll admit, I like my women feisty, but this is a little out of my comfort zone."

" _Get. Out_." she growled between clenched teeth, and the Sith simply indicated behind him with his thumb.

"Can't. Lock down."

"You got in, didn't you?!" The weapon emitted a high-pitched whine as she primed it, and the weapon was torn from her hands, and Kenobi snatched it out of the air.

"I take it that peace is out of the question then," Obi-Wan mumbled, observing the blaster and then tossing it into the corner closest to him with a disdainful sneer. "Have you given my offer any thought?"

"Your offer is _crazy!_ "

"My, such hostility," Kenobi said, almost hurt, and his eyes seemed to soften. Padmé looked away. She wouldn't be taken in by him, not again, no matter how much she wanted it. "What happened?" he drawled softly, taking a careful step toward her. "I thought...I had thought there was an... _attraction_ between us."

The Senator's breath hitched for only a moment. "You controlled me. You messed with my mind. I don't know what you did to me, but I have thought about you _constantly_. I..." She flushed deeply and shut her mouth when the Sith looked almost confused. "...you made me _want_ you, you made me-"

"I didn't do that, that isn't what I do, that isn't how it works."

"Yes it is! Everyone says that's what you do, Anakin said you were in my mind!"

He could feel himself burn at the mention of Skywalker, and it took all his control to keep the rage from showing on his face. Skywalker seemed to follow after him in ways he didn't want him to. He'd have to make certain to guard Satine. "If I was in your mind, it's because you wanted me there."

"No, it can't, I..." She was becoming frantic. For weeks, she had told herself that she was driven mad with lust because this... _Sith_ had demanded it of her. She never wanted to consider that it was her own desire that drove her to crave the handsome former Jedi. Besides, Anakin...she shook her head to clear it, but found she could not. "Anakin was with me, he said he heard you in my mind, we...I-I slept with him because I was driven completely _mad_ with lust, Obi-Wan!"

It wasn't what he was expecting, and he would have taken more delight in the Jedi's seduction if a much more distressing thought wasn't raging through his mind. He left the girl with a suggestion over a month ago on Mandalore, the suggestion that _he_ wanted _her_ , not the other way around. The only thing that accounted for this behavior was her own desire for him, or... _or_...

Or another Sith Lord was manipulating her, and his Master _had_ asked about her. But _why._ His confusion was obvious, unconcealed, and the perceptive Padmé stepped forward, biting her lip and cautions, but she felt that Obi-Wan was actually ignorant of what she was accusing him of. "Padmé," he began softly, "what I did to you was simply _tell_ you I wanted you. If that stirred something within you, that wouldn't be my doing, not in the way you're describing it."

"T-the Jedi say you control minds, they say-"

"And I _do_ ," he insisted, moving closer to her, close enough to reach out and touch. "But I deal in commands. I can't control people over long distances, not for long, and not without prior contact." The brown eyes were curious, confused. She didn't understand, and Kenobi sighed. "I'll explain. Take off your clothes." The Senator's breath caught in her throat, her brown eyes wide and beginning to haze over, and she slowly began doing as commanded, allowing the belt cinching her pants to drop to the ground. "Stop." Again, she did as commanded. "Kneel, tell me you love me."

With a whimper, the Senator dropped to her knees whimpering as she looked up at the Sith and in a voice dripping with desire, she whispered, " _I love you_."

Kenobi sighed, withdrawing the weight of the Force from the Senator's mind, and she collapsed upon the ground, breath deep and heavy. " _That_ is what I can do," he drawled, but he wasn't focusing on the Senator anymore. His thought drifted to his Master and his inexplicable manipulation of Padmé. _Why_ would he do this? Kenobi understood that the girl was an ever-present thorn in the Sith's side, but if she was so bad, Sidious would arrange to have her killed. What was the purpose of driving her mad with lust? Was it to produce a scandal that would ultimately discredit her? Or, more disturbingly, did it have nothing to do with her at all, but with her Jedi paramour, Anakin Skywalker? He couldn't think about this. Not here. Not now.

"Did you mean it?" Padmé asked softly, rising to her feet and staring at the Sith Lord with big, brown eyes that conveyed the depths of her emotions. Obi-Wan looked at her, but had to quickly look away. It was nearly the exact same look Satine gave him before they tumbled together into gentle lovemaking. "Did you mean it when you said that you wanted me?"

How was he supposed to answer that? He looked at her cautiously, reaching out to her feelings but recoiling quickly when he looked at the absolute mire of confusion within her. He was used to sensing Jedi, who were emotionally stunted in the very best of times, his clones, who expressed nothing but loyalty, his victims, who showed nothing but fear, and his rancor, who...well, they were usually just hungry. But _this_ mess...despite the embrace of his passions, Kenobi was not used to the full weight of emotional confusion. Things had always been so clear for him.

He settled on a non-answer, whispering, "I think...you need to puzzle out what you want before you start worrying about that _I_ want."

"I can't do that if I don't know, Obi-Wan!"

"Of course you can," he dismissed. "Padmé, I feel your distress. Your confusion, it's...well, it's enough to keep even me out of your head." He smiled gently, running a long finger down her neck, across her shoulder, down the length of her arm, and he delighted in the shiver that ran through her, the spark that began fueling her desire. "If you ever do figure it out..." He leaned over and planted his lips on the soft skin of her neck just below the ear, the Senator whispering pitifully. "You do know how to contact me." He turned, using the Force to hold open the door, and stepped out into the hallway, the metal slamming together as it locked once again. He ran a hand through his hair as he activated his comlink, smirking when he saw the lithe figure of Ventress.

"Kenobi, where are you?" she growled, her voice just above a whisper. "I've been waiting!"

"Are you back on the ship?" She nodded. "Any complications?"

"Not any I couldn't handle. The Viceroy and Argyus are on the ship, we're ready to go!"

Obi-Wan nodded. "I'll be there in a moment. Every guard on the ship is going to come looking for me after I trip the alarms up here. Make sure to throw Genray in a cell, I don't want him stinking up my ship. I just had her re-upholstered."

Ventress chuckled deeply. "What of the Jedi?"

"I'll fill you in when I get there," the Sith drawled, slamming the hilt of his lightsaber into the electronic console on the wall, and the emergency warning lighting went on, bathing the hallway in red as an alarm began to wail.

"What about Argyus?" Asajj asked swiftly, and Kenobi shrugged indifferently.

"Take him off the ship and kill him. We have no use for him anymore." He cut the com, and, whistling, Darth Lumis made his way down the hall and disappeared down the elevator shaft.


	40. The Lair of Grievous

In the absolute best of terms, Count Dooku was _furious_. And that was putting it mildly. In reality, his wrath shook the foundations of his Serenno Palace, the droids patrolling the grounds crushed under the weight of the Dark Side, and nothing could calm the wrath of the Sith Lord.

All because he had to look at the smug, carefree face of Obi-Wan Kenobi.

The younger Sith had answered Ventress' com, and he was leaning back in the pilot's chair of his ship, the holodisc set on the central console, his bare feet resting on the navigation system as he lounged, shirtless and looking like he hadn't a care in the world. Was Kenobi unaware that there was a _war_ going on? There were several important battles that Dooku had needed him for, only to find the Sith absent from battle, the least of which being the devastating loss of the _Malevolence_.

"Where is Ventress," the Count growled, and Obi-Wan just winked at him.

"Well, hello to you too, sweetheart. I've missed you."

"I doubt that."

"No, really, it's true!"

"I do hope you are returning from the battlefield," Dooku said, ice in his voice that the hot-blooded Lumis seemed to not notice at all.

"Is Mandalore a battlefield?" Kenobi asked, and Dooku's face fell.

"Mandalore is a _neutral system_."

"Really? It's hard to tell, Satine spends _so much time_ hurting me! _Look_!" he cried, turning around and pointing to thin, white scars on his back that stood out in stark contrast to the darker burns that came from their Master's lightsaber. "Look what she's doing to me!"

"I'm beginning to like this woman," Dooku drawled. "Perhaps _she_ can replace you when our Master grows tired of watching you prance about. She would certainly be a pleasant sight."

"Mm, not for you, she _hates_ you." Kenobi sighed and shut his eyes, feeling Dooku's tension through the Force and it _delighted_ him. The Count didn't _need_ anymore stress, but really, what was the fun in that? "If not for being the man that started the Clone Wars, for keeping me away from her for so long."

"You've barely been doing anything in the conflict," Tyranus snarled, but the other Sith just laughed.

"Not my decision, Dooku, our Master is keeping me out of the war." This seemed to surprise the Count, and Kenobi could feel his anger overshadowed by curiosity. "Didn't you know? He says I'm too effective."

"No, he didn't tell me..." Dooku said, his deep voice low and soft, and through the Force, Kenobi could feel the elder Sith regard him differently. "Really now, Lumis, where is Ventress. I need to speak with her."

"Still sleeping," was the slow, smooth reply, a sly smirk settling on his face again, and he could see Dooku's jaw clench tightly, the muscles in his neck knotting with frustration. "I _did_ work her pretty hard..."

Dooku's eyes narrowed as he observed the smug, half dressed Sith Lord. He was disheveled, a rare thing for the meticulous and fastidious Kenobi, and the implication did not pass by Dooku. If Obi-Wan had managed to sink his claws back into his apprentice, he would find a way to make them both suffer. "If Asajj," he began slowly, menacingly, "showed such _weakness_ to allow herself to be seduced by _you_ -"

"Dooku, sweetie, Asajj came to me for help in the mission you assigned her," Kenobi said, swiftly dropping the act. Messing with the uptight Sith Lord was one thing, but he was in the position to really hurt Ventress, which he wouldn't do, if he could avoid it. Even still, the Count grew angry.

"That mission I assigned to her and her alone! She was to prove her worthiness to me, not pawn off her duty on someone else!"

"The way I see it, she was pooling her resources." The Count wasn't moved. "...that's _good_ , Dooku, that's what you and I do all the time! She's learning, that's what you want, isn't it? Besides," he shrugged, groaning as his feet dropped off the control console so he could sit up and stretch out the sore muscles of his back, "she did the mission by herself. I just provided the transportation."

"I assume, then, that you handled the Jedi as well." The Count's voice was still tight with tension, but the anger had largely faded.

"I did."

"They are dead, then?"

"No, I didn't kill them."

Dooku groaned loudly, his had running down the length of his long face. They have had this conversation _many_ times before. "This isn't a thing that's difficult to understand, Kenobi," he growled. " _Kill_ the Jedi, that is our mission, we _kill_ the Jedi. The entire Order needs to be wiped out, or the Sith cannot rule!"

"It was my understanding that the clones are made with a Jedi killing protocol, so the way I see it, they're dead already." Kenobi shrugged. "If some of the Jedi can be turned, we'd have a better start on _building_ that empire. Even our Master says that fallen Jedi make for the best Sith Lords."

"He says that to appeal to _your_ vanity, Lumis! He was never a Jedi, and he's stronger than you will ever be!"

"We shall see about that." Obi-Wan bit his lip when Dooku looked at him, eyes wide and his cunning face in a mix of confusion and intense interest. He hadn't meant to say that, it just... _happened_. When did he begin believing that he could ever be stronger than Darth Sidious?

"I think," the Count said slowly, measuring his every word, "that our Master may be trying to play us against each other. _Again_."

"Has he ever stopped?"

Dooku shook his head. "I suspect not. He is keeping me in the dark about your activities in matters that are _imperative_ to properly conducting this war. He had no reason to not tell me he was withdrawing you for a time, other than to increase the tensions between us."

"That does seem like him, yes." Dooku inclined his head. He and Lumis seemed to be on the same page, which was welcome. "Has he said anything to you about Anakin Skywalker?" Dooku drew back, a frown on his lips and he shook his head. The thought had been eating at Obi-Wan since his meeting with Padmé. "His name came up while I talked to Senator Amidala on the _Tranquility_ while Ventress was going after the Viceroy."

"She was successful, I take it?"

"If she weren't, we wouldn't be having this conversation." Finally, the Count seemed pleased, his posture relaxing into one of comfort and relaxed ease.

"And I take it your... _indecent_ state is the result of a celebratory carnal indulgence?" He could accept that. It was, at its heart, _very_ Sith, but Kenobi just laughed.

"No, no, my tunic was just soaked. I spent a good fifteen minutes in the engine vents of a Star Destroyer, and I came out of there smelling like hyperdrive components. I didn't bring a change, Ventress and I left Mustafar in a hurry." His nose wrinkled. "It was _disgusting_."

"I wonder what it's like to be as vain as you."

"Mm, yes, well, your memory _is_ beginning to fade. You were young once. I think. _Many_ decades ago."

"I wasn't young and _Sith_." Dooku smirked. "That seems to make all the difference."

"It does. Imagine, if you had fallen at the same age I did..." Kenobi shrugged. "Maybe you'd be the Sith Master." The breath caught in Obi-Wan's chest as he looked at the hologram of Dooku, the Count's intelligent eyes filled with a hunger he understood all too well. Maybe, when he reached Dooku's age, _he'd_ be the Dark Lord of the Sith.

"Obi-Wan, our Master is toying with us," Dooku whispered, cautious as if Sidious could hear them if they spoke too loudly. "I cannot possibly begin to understand his reasons for trying to set us against each other, especially not now when we are so essential to the war effort, but I say that we don't play his game."

"Do we even have a choice in that?" Kenobi asked, shrugging, but Dooku was deadly serious.

"There is _always_ a choice for us. We are Lords of the Sith. We make our own way." Kenobi's eyes narrowed, and Dooku put his hand up both to placate him and to keep him from talking. "I'm not suggesting that we defy our Master. I'm suggesting that we share information."

"I don't-"

"Not _all_ information, of course, but information pertaining to this war effort. The things we must know to be successful. For example, if I knew our Master had called you out of the major conflicts, I could have changed our strategy and diverted you to lesser skirmishes, lest you get board." Dooku stopped to gauge Kenobi and found him attentive. He _was_ listening, and better yet, he was interested. No doubt the younger Sith disliked being sidelined.

"I...can tell you our Master's directives when I get them," Kenobi said, his hands pressed together and bringing his fingers to his lips. "But what do I get out of this? Small things are fine, for a time, but they're hardly satisfying."

"What is it you want?"

"I want to go to Ryloth." Kenobi grinned, his pulse beginning to race. The Separatists had been laying siege to the Twi'lek home world for some time now, and the fighting was getting more aggressive by the day. Several Jedi were on the planet, along with the bulk of the Republic Fleet, and it didn't seem to be letting up any time soon.

"What could you possibly want with Ryloth?"

"The Jedi are there."

Dooku laughed. "What use do you have for Jedi, Lumis? You don't even kill Jedi."

Kenobi grinned at that. "Maybe I've just been meeting the wrong Jedi."

Stroking his beard, the Count observed the younger Sith, his relaxed posture, his easy smile, but underneath it all, he _burned_. There was power, ambition, a fire within him that hadn't been there before. Something had changed Obi-Wan, and it bothered Dooku that he didn't know what it was. Kenobi went around making friends everywhere he went, and before, Dooku had despised that, but now, it seemed like it may have been a good idea to foster an antagonistic friendship with Obi-Wan. After all, it seemed that Lumis was slowly beginning to have ambitions that superceded his place as Apprentice. Dooku could use that, if things with Ventress didn't work out. After all, it was always a possibility that Sidious would catch wind of Dooku's own ambitions, and he and Ventress may be seen as Sith pretenders that Sidious would almost certainly send Kenobi against, if he didn't come himself. And Obi-Wan had proven to greatly care about his connections...

"I had planned," he started, "to teach Grievous a lesson for all his recent failures. His loss of the _Malevolence_ was embarrassing, and I will not stand for it."

"How do you plan to do that..." he asked, and Dooku saw that the man was...cautious. Curious, but clearly concerned. He knew Kenobi developed a fondness for Grievous, but even the young Sith seemed to agree that the cyborg had failed too many times.

"The Republic will be searching for the Viceroy, and they'll be sending the best Jedi they can to aid in his recapture. I'm going to tip them off to his location, and lead them right into Grievous' hideout on Vassek."

"...you want to force a fight between Grievous and the Jedi." Kenobi smirked. "Depending on who they send, Grievous could be in a fair bit of trouble."

"Then he doesn't deserve his station." Dooku's eyes narrowed. "I had planned this to assess Grievous' use to us, but if you are itching to kill some Jedi..."

"I'm still a bit sore about losing Mace Windu." Kenobi stroked his beard, nodding slowly as he considered the Count's proposal. "Didn't you arrange this to test Grievous?"

The Count shrugged. "I can find other ways to test him. Do you want to kill these Jedi."

" _Yes_." The answer was immediate, intense, the usual soft, accented drawl a deep, raw growl, and Dooku could feel the hunger and the yearning within Darth Lumis. The Dark Side occasionally demanded sacrifice, blood, and it gripped Kenobi now.

"Do we have a truce, than?" Dooku asked, voice easy and amused, smiling as Kenobi nodded. "We will communicate. In this war, we must be... _partners_."

"Get me to Ryloth and send me out on smaller things when you can, and I'll be _happy_ to share. I'll stop by Serenno to drop off Ventress and the Viceroy, and you can fill me in on the rest. All this time off is fine, but my men and I need blood."

"You shall have it, Lumis," Dooku drawled. "All you needed to do was ask."

* * *

Several hapless battle droids had been needlessly decapitated in Grievous' rage. He had been chased all across the galaxy by Qui-Gon Jinn and Anakin Skywalker, the former of the duo providing the strategies while the later expertly carried them out, improvising when need be, and easily outmaneuvering everything that the General had thrown at him. Skywalker was, in Grievous' estimation, the best pilot he had ever seen, and the young Jedi Padawan had easily bested his defenses and led the charge to bring the _Malevolence_ burning into oblivion. Had Skywalker not obeyed his Master and returned from the attack run, Grievous could have destroyed the tenacious Jedi in a final, desperate trap he had set. But the Padawan _did_ obey, and while it allowed Grievous to escape, it also kept Skywalker safely out of range.

Without his ship, without his fleet, Grievous managed to escape the Republic, giving them no means of following him, as they had been doing incessantly after Haruun Kal. It was a bitter retreat, though a much needed one, and when Grievous had landed at his fortress on Vassek, he immediately set to his only convenient method of stress relief: destroying every droid in sight.

"You know," came a smooth, arrogant drawl from behind him, and Grievous spun around, his yellow eyes narrowed as he found Obi-Wan Kenobi sitting high upon one of the many stacked crates within the large room that the cyborg used as a warehouse. The crates contained the many pieces and parts that were needed for repairs and improvements to his metallic body, and as of late, he had been forced to use a great deal of them. It was one of the many advantages of sacrificing the mortal flesh he used to inhabit. One could not simply repair an organic body the way he could. "Those droids are expensive. You don't see the Jedi abusing their soldiers in such a way."

Grievous snarled deeply, the sound metallic and hollow, which frightened most, but it simply made the Sith Lord smile. "Their care for their troops is a weakness that I will exploit!"

"Really. You haven't done so yet." He laughed as he jumped off the crates, landing gracefully on the ground in front of the General, his feet barely making a sound. "Last I remember, you were fleeing Haruun Kal after losing a fight to Mace Windu."

"I hear you failed to kill him as well!" the cyborg snarled, and the Sith's yellow eyes glinted dangerously.

"Careful now, Grievous. I like you, but I won't hesitate to break you if you forget your place. And failing to kill him isn't the same as losing. I won that fight." The cyborg growled deeply for a minute before devolving into a fit of dry, hacking coughs, clutching his chest as he did so. "...what happened?"

He flicked his metallic hand in the air, brushing off the question completely, but renewed hacking made him reconsider the question. "The Jedi _crushed_ me." His fingers tapped against his chest plate, and Kenobi frowned. He had a little time to spare, Grievous was early.

"Let me see." With a groan, Grievous left the room, the Sith Lord following him as he walked down the halls in silence to a room that served as a medical bay and repair center. The cyborg pulled himself up onto the sterile table in the middle and allowed Kenobi to approach him, swiping a roll of neatly placed tools from a nearby bench.

"I haven't heard from Dooku," the General said, keeping his voice low to avoid aggravating his lungs as Kenobi set to work removing the chest plate.

"He is a bit cross..." he grunted, undoing the fastenings of the plating with some difficulty. "Who's the idiot that put this on? It's far too tight."

"The droids on the _Malevolence are useless!"_

"No, they're dead, thanks to you..." Kenobi tore the chest plate off, revealing the pulsating organ sac underneath, and he hissed. "What have you done for this."

He snarled, coughing for a moment. "The medical droid looked at it. It said there is nothing to be done. You waste your time."

"Mm, it may not have been able to do anything, but droids can't use the Force." He reached out his hand and touched the fleshy mass, the General hissing as he did so, and Kenobi closed his eyes, feeling his life through the Force, so much like any other being Kenobi had felt. He could heal his own wounds, but healing others was a technique that Jedi practiced, and Obi-Wan had left the Order before he could learn it with any level of mastery. But still, he tried, and he could feel the damaged organs slowly beginning to heal. Connected with the Force, he could also feel _others_ arrive. Many others, several identical presences he knew to be clones, and five others that were also connected to the Force. _Jedi_. Kenobi smiled as he heard the far-off sounds of metal being crushed as Grievous' ship was destroyed. There would be no escape.

Slowly, Grievous began taking deeper breaths, still rasping and injured, but it was improving, and he looked down in confusion as the Sith carefully began replacing the chest plate. "I should tell you something," he whispered, looking up into those reptilian eyes and smiling. "This is a trap. The Jedi are here, and there's no escape."

Looking at the cheerfully smiling Sith, Grievous felt anger overtake him, and he howled in rage. " _Trap_?!"

"As I said, Dooku is angry. He doesn't know if you're worthy of leading his army anymore, not after that string of humiliating defeats." The cyborg growled, stalking to a computer console and slamming his hands down upon it, monitors above flickering to life to show the many rooms of Grievous' lair, including a circular room with a single chair set like a throne where the Jedi and their clones now stood. Obi-Wan frowned as he looked at the four Jedi in view. He didn't recognize any of them.

"He would _test me_?!" the General snarled, reeling around and striking bits and pieces of scrap off tables, but Kenobi was unimpressed with his fury, made far less impressive by the subsequent coughing fit.

"Test you or dispose of you, yes..."

"So why are you here!" he snarled, stooping down to bring himself to the Sith's level, his iron mask mere inches from the unimpressed gold of Kenobi's eyes. "Are you here to make certain I complete this task? It they defeat me, they will come for _you_!"

"Do you think I'm afraid of a few Jedi?" Kenobi asked softly, his voice even and monotone, his face blank and expressionless, and Grievous drew back, observing the man carefully. This was different for the usually smiling, always amused Obi-Wan. Was he centering himself? Was he preparing to meet his former brothers? Was he, too, disappointed in the General? Grievous didn't know, and it made him feel uneasy. He always knew that Kenobi was a killer, but in that moment, he truly felt like one.

"Of course not..."

"No, of course not. Your guard has been deactivated. Your ship has been destroyed, and there are five Jedi here, looking for Nute Gunray, but they will find _you_. Understand?"

"...Dooku has trapped me."

The Sith nodded, a slow smile creeping across his face as he looked at the monitors. "And they brought a Jedi _Master_ with them!" Obi-Wan chirped, the excitement creeping back into his voice as he watched Kit Fisto, Jedi of the Council, lay a green hand on the shoulder of a young Mon Calamari that must have only been recently knighted. Kenobi knew that Kit had taken a Padawan just before he left the Order, and he assumed this must have been him. Luminara had once mentioned that Fisto had an interest in a Mon Calamari.

Grievous snarled dangerously, but stopped when Obi-Wan's elegant fingers ran over his broad, metallic shoulders. "I actually came here to help you, Grievous..." the Sith purred, and the General had to shake his head when he felt the Sith's presence in his mind. It wasn't controlling, but it was overbearing, and the cyborg was forced to his knees, the Jedi on the screen all whipping their heads around, starring in the same direction. They had sensed the surge of power coming from the Sith.

"Help me how..."

"I came here to kill Jedi. You're good, Grievous. Truly, you are, but the halls out there are narrow, and the Jedi will have the advantage in these conditions. You are also _badly_ injured, and the repairs to you are haphazard at best, you're not even close to your peak. But _I_ can take care of this..."

Grievous snarled, taking his lightsabers in his hand and raising to his feet, arms disconnecting to form his four appendages. "I will prove myself to Dooku!" was the hollow, angry response, and the Sith sighed, activating the nearby medical droid and sitting cross-legged on the floor, eyes closed in meditation.

"I wish you the best of luck," he whispered, sing-song, as the General left, howling furiously. The medical droid rolled to the monitors, chattering incessantly as he watched the fight upon the screen, droning on mournfully as he watched Grievous take damage to his expensive mechanical form. Kenobi breathed deeply, immersing himself in the Force, feeling its ebb and its flow, gauging the Jedi that fought. He didn't know most of them, but he was left unimpressed, for the most part. He knew Kit Fisto, of course, as one of the most accomplished duelists in the Order, and with a specialty in Form I, it left him uniquely suited to combating Grievous and his multiple blades. Kenobi recognized the skill of one of the other Jedi as one who had achieved mastery, but the others were just Knights, and barely Knights at that. They were not worth saving, not worth the effort to make them fall.

There was an awful amount of commotion coming from the halls outside, the enraged shouts of Grievous, the short, quick commands of the Jedi, the military barks of the clones, and it was enough to draw Kenobi out of the Force, his eyes drifting to the monitors in time to see Grievous scuttling across the ground, closer inspection showing that the cyborg had lost both of his legs mid-thigh. Gold eyes ran over the other monitors to see three Jedi in pursuit, while the other two remained on one screen, one of the Jedi missing a leg of his own, and the other carefully tending to him.

It was only a few moments later when the doors slid open and Grievous swung in, metallic hands gripping the ceiling, tow cables trailing from the remainders of his legs. Kenobi whistled. "You're a _mess_. Look at you, you're just scrap. How do you plan on beating the Jedi like that, this will take hours to properly fix!"

"I don't need it properly fixed, I just need a _patch job_."

Kenobi arched a brow. "A patch job on severed legs, Grievous? The whole thing needs to be repaired." He squinted, looking at the General closer. "And the left side of your face plate is damaged, your vision is impaired." Grievous devolved into a coughing fit, and Obi-Wan sighed. "And your lungs are damaged." He threw his hands into the air. "How do you plan to make it out of this!"

Grievous growled dangerously, the deep, low, feral sound reverberating through the mask. "...you said you would _help_..."

"Is that what you're asking for?"

"Yes."

Kenobi grinned. "Then _ask_."

The General howled in outrage, nearly striking the medical droid that came to begin repairing him, and the cyborg dropped to the table, the light steel crushing under the heavy force of his weight falling upon it. Calming his wrathful breathing, the General bowed his head and muttered a weak, " _Please_..."

Kenobi nodded, getting to his feet and stretching his arms toward the ceiling. "Remember this, Grievous. Next time you're in trouble, or you think you may _lose a ship_...swallow your pride and call for help."

Yellow eyes stared at him, unmoving, and then the General bowed his head. "I...will remember, my Lord."

Obi-Wan nodded, looking to the monitors to locate the Jedi's current location, and then he left the room, sealing it behind him. Using the Force, Kenobi moved silently through the narrow, dark halls, moving away from the Force presence of Fisto and the two Jedi he traveled with and circling around to the room the cyborg engaged the Jedi in. His presence concealed, Kenobi easily walked up behind the Jedi Knight as he healed his companion, and Lumis put the hilt of his lightsaber on the back of the Cerean's elongated skull, the red blade hissing to life and passing through the man's skull, the Jedi he had been tending to screaming, voice cracking as his comrade fell lifeless upon him. The fear of the injured man gave Lumis a way into his mind, his defenses already down to open himself to healing, and the human seemed to choke, his screaming dying in his throat when the Sith commanded silence from him.

Closing his eyes and breathing deeply, Kenobi shivered as he felt the life leave the Jedi, reveled in the fear and despair of the other, and he felt the Dark Side roar to life in the presence of death. The surge of power was _immense_ , a different feel from the rush of breaking a Jedi. It was far more intense, though he was certain the rush of power was also more fleeting. It was hardly a wonder that so many Sith of Old fell into the pattern of mindless slaughter, it felt _good_ to feel the swell of power that could only come from death.

He opened his eyes and looked at the panic-stricken Jedi, gold glowing like flames in the dimly lit hallways, and he couldn't decide if he wanted to keep this Jedi to break later, or simply kill him now. His desperate struggle to get out from underneath his dead brother and the frantic whimpers answered the question for him, and the Sith Lord slowly approached the shaggy-haired human. "Don't worry..." Lumis whispered not unkindly, his lightsaber pointed to the Jedi's throat. "It'll be over soon..." He released his hold on the Jedi's mind, but remained within him, the fear of the boy seeming to fuel the Dark Side to greater heights. "I need you to call for help," he drawled, leaning closer and trailing the blade down his chest, so close it burned the Jedi's skin.

He did exactly as commanded, crying out for the aid of the Masters, his high-pitched, panicked voice echoing down the halls, and with a shudder of satisfaction, Lumis slid the blade under his sternum and into his lungs, the frantic voice growing muffled as he seemed to choke, blood slowly bubbling out of his mouth as he died. He could feel the other Jedi in the Force, felt their presence swiftly drawing near, and he deactivated his saber, focusing himself in the Dark Side, and he rose, turning just in time to see the three Jedi round the corner led by Kit Fisto. For only a second, he looks surprised, and then his large, black eyes narrow, a smirk on his face as he pointed his green saber at the Sith. If he sew the bodies, which Kenobi knew he must, than he made no showing of it. The other two are not so impassive, the other Master, a human, gasping in shock, and the Mon Calamari Knight narrowing his wide, bulging eyes in rage.

"Obi-Wan Kenobi..." Kit Fisto drawled, bowing slightly, the smirk present on his face. "I confess, we did not expect you here."

"I bet you didn't expect Grievous here either."

"We didn't. We were under the impression that we were baited here to become bait ourselves." The Nautolan grinned. "Now, why would Dooku want to capture Grievous, I wonder?"

"You would too, if you had a pesky General that lost the pride of your navy." Kenobi returned Fisto's grin. "Which, I suppose you did. Tell me, how is Quinlan Vos?"

"Very well. Confined to the Temple until he gets a _new_ ship."

"Aw, how _awful_!" Kenobi drawled. "You may tell him from me that his ship is _lovely_. Honestly, a work of art."

The Mon Calamari pushed forward, his blue saber humming and he pointed it at the Sith Lord. "Master, stop talking to him! He's killed Tarr and Sha'a! We'll make him pay for it!"

"Revenge is not the way of the Jedi, Nahdar," Kit softly cautioned, but the Knight was having none of it, and Kenobi grinned when he saw excitement in the Mon Calamari's eyes. This may have been a Knight, but he was no true Jedi. He had one foot solidly planted in the Dark Side already.

"This is our chance! If we end this Sith Lord, we're one step closer to ending the war!" The orange skinned boy was so earnest, so eager, that Kenobi couldn't help but laugh loudly.

" _This_ is what you've brought with you, Master Fisto?" he drawled, reaching out with the Dark Side and firmly grasping Nahdar's mind, the Mon Calamari gasping, his wide eyes bulging further and staggering toward the Sith for a few steps before dropping to his knees. "Was this your Padawan? Honestly, I'm disappointed, all you Council members are raising such... _failures_."

Fisto smirked, despite his former student's predicament, and Kenobi found himself respecting this Jedi. He was more of a Jedi Master than any he had met thus far. "Yes, it's really a shame. You have failed spectacularly, Master Jinn absolutely _bemoans_ how disappointed he is in you."

Kenobi's temper flared, but just for a moment, smiling instead when he forced the Dark Side deeper into the Mon Calamari's mind, the boy shuddering as he rose to his feet. But it wasn't fast enough. The long tentacles flowing from the Nautolan's head were sensory organs that picked up even the slightest emotional change instantly, and Kenobi felt the Master center himself in the Force, green blade raised and ready. "He'll be changing his tune soon enough. As will you, Kit. _Nahdar_." The Mon Calamari's head snapped up, his large, wide eyes focusing on the Sith. "Kill your Master."

This time, Fisto's eyes widened in shock, unprepared for the sudden, vicious attack from Nahdar Vebb, the boy swinging his lightsaber at the Jedi from a place of reckless anger and rage and revenge that was pointed at the wrong person. He just barely blocked the first volley, then centered himself again and defended himself, calling to the young Knight to come to his senses, but to no avail. Laughing, Kenobi lit his lightsaber, the glowing weapon bathing his part of the hallway in a sinister red light. Sensing the immanent danger, the human Master rushed at the Sith, their blades locking as the Jedi resolved to keep Kenobi away from the other two.

Obi-Wan smirked, easily defending against the Jedi as he attacked, his strikes fast and aggressive, his movements fluid and athletic, but his focus was strained. The Master was trying to do too much, was distracted by the dead bodies, one of which was his former Padawan, the frantic, pleading cries of Kit Fisto, the mindless, vicious snarling of Nahdar. And through it all, the Sith was calm, focused, amused, hardly seeming as if he was fighting at all, as if the Force itself was guiding his movements. He pressed his attack. He didn't think he would survive this, but Kit and Nahdar may. He just needed to put enough distance between the Jedi and this Sith Lord, he just needed to give them enough time to-

The Jedi's weapon clattered to the ground, along with his severed hand. He hadn't seen the Sith Lord slip beneath his attack, the red blade sliding along his own and then twisting it around suddenly to sever the appendage. He reached out and called the saber to his other hand, but before he could grasp the weapon out of the air, the Sith's lightsaber descended upon his other arm, severing it at the elbow. In the next moment, the Jedi was pushed against the wall, held up by the throat with the Force, his legs kicking off the wall as he struggled to get free. The tip of the red weapon drove into the wall right by his head, the metal hissing as it melted.

"Your fate was predetermined," Lumis drawled, drawing the weapon closer to the Jedi's neck. "Don't be afraid. This is the will of the Force." His wrist flicked, and the lightsaber drew across the Master's neck, the body dropping to the ground as the Jedi's head was severed.

Now, Obi-Wan could feel Fisto's change through the Force as his sensitive tentacles picked up on the Sith's sudden elation when the Force trembled with the ripples of the Dark Side. As he drew closer to the Jedi Master, chuckling deeply as he felt the ever growing surge of the Dark Side, Fisto's attention diverted from his former student's relentless attack to the face of the Sith Lord, the smirk present on the Nautolan's face gone and replaced with a mask of cold indifference.

"The Council chose well in appointing you, Kit," Lumis drawled over the hissing of his lightsaber as it trailed a molten path through the floor beside his feet. "No fear, no anger for me to latch on to."

"Would they serve any use?" the Jedi quipped, easily blocking a volley from Nahdar, the young Mon Calamari's energy expending futilely against the superior swordsman. He was getting tired, sloppy, unfocused in his rage that the Sith Lord stoked in him. Still, Kit Fisto smiled. Soon, he'd be able to safely defang his enthralled Padawan, but it was, admittedly, more difficult to do so with Kenobi's attention trained directly on them. "After all, your anger doesn't seem to be serving you."

Obi-Wan laughed at that, holding out his hand to narrow his focus on the Mon Calamari, and Fisto grunted with effort as Nahdar's strength increased, buffered by the Sith that controlled him. "I'm not angry. Why should I be? I'm _winning_."

The Jedi Master's large black eyes fell back on Kenobi when he regained control of the fight, adjusting to the new fury stoked in his former student, the long tendrils flowing from his head twisting slightly in the air. "I don't need the Force to sense your feelings, Obi-Wan, it's the gift of my species." He smirked when the amusement dropped off the Sith Lord's face, replaced with a mask of blank indifference that Kit recognized all too well. The Jedi looked the same way when they strove to conceal and control feelings that would cloud their judgement. He may have looked as the calm, collected Jedi did, but the sensitive tendrils on the Nautolan's head picked up the subtle emotional change in Obi-Wan. Before, he had been amused, reckless in his joyful abandon by the death he had brought, an undercurrent of bitterness and anger running through him. But now, that undercurrent had torn the Sith's emotions asunder and left him consumed and wrathful. He couldn't sense it in the Force, couldn't see it on his face, but Kit knew that the Sith had just gone from sure-footed and playful to dangerously, furiously wrathful.

The hand at the Sith's side tightened, throwing Nahdar screaming into another furious attack against his former Master, and Fisto deftly blocked and parried and dodged, his movements graceful and precise, anticipating all of Nahdar's moves before he even made them. He had trained the boy after all. It was only a moment too late that Kit sensed the rage in the Sith turn to sinister glee, moving his green blade to deflect the next attack, but it never came. Instead, the Mon Calamari gasped, stumbling forward as his blade was dropped, Fisto's eyes wide as he watched the tip of his green lightsaber press easily into Nahdar's shoulder. The wide, bulging eyes of the Mon Calamari registered shock, pain, and guilt for only a moment before they quivered and quickly began to cloud, Kenobi's red blade sticking out of his chest as he was impaled.

Fisto's black eyes locked with golden ones for a moment, glowing with delight as the Dark Side engulfed him, and the Nautolan centered himself, drawing deeply of the Force to bolster his speed and his defenses, and the Sith Lord attacked. All Kit could do was retreat, putting as much distance between himself and his attacker as he could, relying on his graceful movements and his mastery of Shii-Cho combat to carry him through, but he was still forced into a frantic retreat as Kenobi pressed an aggressive offense.

Eventually, the closed, dark, claustrophobic hallways of Grievous' lair gave way to the bright, external courtyard where the Jedi had entered through, and given more space to move, Kit swiftly circled the Sith's blade to disarm him, failing in his intent, but succeeding in changing the tide of combat to his offensive, momentary shock registering in the Sith's golden eyes as he fell back into a defensive posture with ease. The Nautolan's movements were fluid, but random and unpredictable, and for a moment, all Kenobi could to was swiftly parry the arching, graceful strikes, retreating as his opponent had before to gain enough distance to observe the Jedi Master. Finally, he saw it, and Kenobi moved in, thrusting his blade forward along the Jedi's green, plasma sparking as the sabers connected, the red weapon making a swift and deadly line toward Fisto's unguarded head.

Kit sensed the Sith's emotional change, rage and wrath replaced with delight and anticipation, and he twisted out of the way of the deadly weapon, the crimson lightsaber narrowly avoiding his temple, and with a furious snarl, the Sith wrenched the blade up, the weapon leaving a bloody red trail through the air as it severed twelve of the fourteen sensitive, sensory tendrils that flowed from the Jedi's head. He staggered back, shaking in pain as he felt the writhing remains of the tentacles rising in the air and falling uselessly against his shoulders when moments ago, they flowed down to touch his lower back. The severed tendrils wriggled on the ground on their own accord as if they had life of their own, and Kit could immediately feel his connection with the Force weaken as his sensory organs were ripped away from him. He looked at the Sith through bleary, pain-clouded eyes, and found himself unable to sense him at all, and attempting to gauge his emotional state left him with crippling phantom pains.

The Sith pressed his attack, his golden eyes blazing with fury and triumph, and Fisto only just managed to block the savage blows, reaching back into the Force to guide him. He sensed something, for just a fleeting moment, and slowly, he began to grin, his smile made only wider when the Sith looked confused by the Jedi's glee. With a triumphant laugh, Kit Fisto drew of the Force to aid him in leaping high above Kenobi, only to disappear off the cliff below. Obi-Wan ran to the edge, the Force pulling at the edge of his mind just before he saw a Jedi starfighter rise out of the thick fog, the Nautolan clambering to climb into the cockpit as the droid installed in the front of the ship piloted them toward space.

The immediate rage was so intense that the large, steel doors that guarded Grievous' mountain fortress bent and crushed, screeching and groaning as the Dark Side warped and twisted the metal into indistinguishable scrap. Obi-Wan took a deep breath, clipped his saber to his belt and ran a hand through his tussled hair. His golden eyes looked over the scene, and he smirked slightly to see the still-wriggling tentacles of Kit Fisto's head. It wasn't a _total_ loss, he supposed. Four Jedi dead, one of those a Master, and another Council Master humiliated wasn't bad for a spontaneous day trip. Breathing deeply, Obi-Wan quelled the Dark Side, setting his rage aside and reveling in the intense pleasure that flowed through him. The Dark Side was satisfied, gorged with blood, and it fueled the power of the Sith, strengthened his connection with the Force, and Kenobi closed his eyes, surrendering himself to the feelings of power as visions passed through his mind.

They were clearer than ever, more vivid and vibrant, and he almost felt as if he were standing in the Jedi Temple, the ancient building burning around him as his Master's Empire rose.


	41. Deliberations

The Council was in session, and all the Masters had been recalled to be in attendance. All of them sat in quiet, contemplative silence, not a single one of them knowing exactly how or where to begin. It was usually Mace who started these meetings off, eager to tackle the problems head on, but the day found him quiet, eyes downcast and hardly moving at all. He hadn't been officially released from the infirmary, and was only permitted to leave for the Council if he kept a medical droid by his side, which was whirring softly behind his seat, monitoring the deep gouge that ran down his back, far more serious than it had looked when he was first brought back from his home world of Haruun Kal. Yoda, deep in meditation, did nothing to start the proceedings either.

The only sounds that could be heard were the faint whisperings of Aayla Secura and Kit Fisto, and Padawan Tano leaned in to see if she could hear what they were saying, and frowning when she could not. Besides herself, Secura was the only non-Council member that had been permitted inside the chamber that day, as Master Fisto had simply refused to attend without her, and given his recent injuries, Yoda quietly allowed it. The remainder of his tentacles were wrapped tightly in thick, white bandages, falling in a tight lump that just reached his shoulder blades, the two that had remained intact draped in front of his chest, and Secura knelt beside him, a blue hand gently stroking the sensitive tendril. Ahsoka could feel herself grinning, despite the severity of the situation. The Padawans had long been saying that there was... _something_ between the Nautolan and the Twi'lek, and even her good-natured Master treated Kit with some level of suspicion that she assumed was born from a healthy, confusing mix of jealousy and protective instinct. Though not today.

Ahsoka turned her eyes to the sullen Quinlan Vos, usually so upbeat and cheerful, a good natured grin or a mischievous smile always on his face, except for now. Except for the past few days. Vos stared blankly ahead, and every now and again, Ahsoka would lean over to see if she could find what he was staring at, hoping, _praying_ that he was looking at something instead of the vast, emptiness of nothing he seemed to see before him. Jedi were dying. Masters of high esteem were coming back from the war with injuries that were severe in the best of cases, and in the worst, things they would never recover from. Those that lived were shaken, unaccustomed to seeing the horrors that the war produced, and the compassion of the Jedi ran deep, making the atrocities all the worse when considering the innocent lives that were being lost daily. Those that stayed in the Temple watched as a constant stream of the dead and injured were returned to Coruscant, and it was shaking their faith, not just in the ability of the Jedi, but in the Force itself.

That wasn't true for all of them, certainly, but many were harboring doubts. Ahsoka wasn't one of them. She approached every problem with a thirst for learning and an ambition that was not uncommon in a Padawan, but her dedication to thinking outside the information that was given to her _was_ unusual. When the entire Order had been recalled to the Temple, Tano attended every class she could, soaked in all the information that was presented to her, even if it conflicted. _Especially_ if it conflicted. Combined with her Master's stories of Kenobi, and the sage advice of Master Jinn, Ahsoka was beginning to have a very, very good idea of how to deal with the Sith Lord Obi-Wan.

There were too many personal feelings, too many connections, too much attachment for the Jedi around her to remain focused and removed, and the Sith Lord had time and time again brought the fight as close to home as he could. He was a _master_ of emotional turmoil, and while Ahsoka certainly couldn't see the big picture, she understood the framework on which the Sith was designing his fight against the Jedi that he once called family. It was, after all, not unlike something she would have done herself, had she been betrayed by the Jedi. She wouldn't have joined the Sith, of course, but she would have been angry, and she would have turned her back on the Jedi as well. She didn't know what she would do without the Jedi, but she'd find a way, would certainly be thirsting for family and connection, which seemed to her to be what Obi-Wan was doing. Kenobi seemed to thrive on connections, old and new, and the Jedi as a whole were playing right into his hands. Even her Master was falling prey to his game. _Especially_ her Master...

The Togruta once again looked to Quinlan. The man hadn't moved, hadn't shifted his gaze. Ahsoka had been allowed to this closed meeting because Master Yoda felt that Vos needed to care for someone in his time of crisis, and the Kiffar had shown himself to be excessively fond of young Tano. If she had any impact at all, she certainly couldn't see it. Ahsoka knew that Vos blamed himself for what had happened, even if there was nothing that he could have done. But still, there wasn't a thing that could convince Quinlan that there wasn't something he could have done to save his Master Tholme.

Yoda had brought the body back from what should have been a secret meeting on Rugosa that had gone terribly, terribly wrong. The Separatists were there, in full force, and by the time the meeting had been concluded after a prolonged struggle, Tholme lay dead, shot through on his blind left side. It was senseless, random and without meaning. Tholme had been better than that. Tholme _deserved_ better than that, and Master Yoda couldn't find his lightsaber to bring it back so Vos could grasp it and see what happened. Quinlan didn't know if he should blame the Separatists for killing him or the Jedi for failing to save him. It was...complicated, not unlike his feelings about Obi-Wan's fall from the light, which he was beginning to understand better each day.

"So, he's killing Jedi now," Adi Gallia said, breaking the silence, and all the Jedi sat up straighter.

"This isn't new," Qui-Gon said tiredly, and Adi crossed her arms.

"Yes it is, he hasn't killed Jedi before!"

"It _isn't_ new," Jinn insisted, returning her steely gaze. "Master Yoda said he sensed murder in him. Killing Jedi is almost inconsequential at this point, since we know he is capable of murder, and we know he can beat us. The question now isn't who will he kill, but who won't he."

"He didn't kill Barriss or me on the _Tranquility_ ," Luminara said as she looked around at their broken Council, and her heart ached.

"Do you think he would have?" Qui-Gon asked, and the Mirialan shook her head.

"Killing us was of no interest to him. He sought...understanding."

"Understanding about what?" Shaak Ti asked.

"Not about anything," Luminara corrected. "He sought understanding _from_ us. We talked briefly, he believes the Force has shifted in favor of the Sith."

"Impossible," Mace muttered from his seat, and all eyes looked to him, waiting for further elaboration, but Windu would say no more. Nobody did. Ahsoka shifted uncomfortably next to her Master's seat.

She couldn't take it any longer. Her voice tight, Padawan Tano asked, "Why?" Every eye in the chamber snapped to her, except for the eyes of her Master. She took a deep breath and held it. Quinlan Vos would not contribute, so she'd have to do it for him. "Why is it impossible?"

"Because the Force seeks balance, and the Sith and the Dark Side upsets that balance," Shhak Ti explained. "The Force is harmony and peace, and the Sith disrupt it by inviting chaos and death into the very fabric of the Force itself."

"I know, but...isn't it all just the Force?"

Yoda chuckled under his breath, looking at Ahsoka with large, kind eyes. "Correct, Padawan Tano is. Binds us all, the Force does. The Light, and the Dark, all part of the Force, it is." He pointed his stick at the young Togruta. "Live in harmony with the Force, the Jedi do. Through us, the Force flows. Listen to its will, we try. Sith..." He closed his eyes, a deep growl in the back of his throat as he thought. "Control the Force, the Sith do. Bend it to their will. Different in how they use the Force, they are. Different, their philosophy is, in the use of the Force."

Ahsoka bit her lip and looked away from the Master, carefully considering all he had said, all that was spoken, all that she knew, and, nodding, she finally said, "Is he lonely?"

Nearly the entirety of the Council began chuckling, but Qui-Gon reached out and took young Tano's hand, smiling softly at her. "I think he may be," he whispered to her, and though he was not addressing them, the room fell silent again as the Jedi leaned in to listen. "He isn't trying to kill Luminara or Quinlan, and they were his best friends here in the Order."

"He..." Luminara cleared her throat. "I severed my attachment to him long ago, but when I was with him, I felt our connection through the Force. It didn't come from me, it came from him, he's maintaining his attachments."

"We're still connected," Quinlan Vos said, his voice hoarse and raw and rough after days of barely saying a word, and Ahsoka smiled brightly, tightly gripping his arm.

"I felt nothing," Kit said swiftly. "He hardly spoke to me, but he _did_ want to kill me."

"He doesn't know you as well," Luminara said.

"Yes, but he didn't know Eeth Koth either, and I think it's safe to assume that Obi-Wan is the Sith responsible for that mess," Qui-Gon said quickly. "I don't think we can assume who is safe and who is not. Openly killing Jedi doesn't change things for us, but it may change things for _him_. He may be different, changing. Maybe he's experimenting."

"Maybe he's just human," Ahsoka whispered, but every Master heard her, and Qui-Gon looked away, biting his lip as he considered the Padawan's words. Quinlan smiled up at her and squeezed her hand.

"I was thinking the same thing. We're over-complicating this. Speculation and fear is...clouding our vision."

"Your attachment may be clouding yours," Mace growled, and tiny Master Yoda poked the injured man in his side, Windu hissing in pain as the medical droid rolled around and immediately began tending to him.

"Attached, you are as well, Master Windu," the Grandmaster said. "Attached with anger. Betrayal. The same as Obi-Wan, hmm?"

"It's _not_ the same," Mace growled. "It's-" Yoda poked him again, and Windu yelped in pain, the medical droid frantic as it tried to attend to his spontaneously hurting patient.

"The same. Fallen to the Dark Side, you have not. But _same_ , the feelings are. Anger in Obi-Wan, there is. Betrayal by the Jedi, he feels. Correct, he is, if from a different view, we see."

"We did betray him," Qui-Gon said, his noble eyes resolute. "At every single turn, we betrayed him. This is...expected."

Yoda nodded. "The wrong path, he has taken. But a monster of our making, Obi-Wan is."

"We owe it to him to try and make this right," Qui-Gon said, and Mace glared at him.

"We owe him nothing. He's _murdered_ Jedi, there is no redemption for him!"

"How can you even _talk_ about redemption!" Quinlan shouted, jumping to his feet and towering over the seated Council. Vos was a Jedi that could conceal his emotions, if he wished, but he rarely did, and he displayed the full depth of his emotions now, all pain and rage that had been put away for the past few days as he mourned the loss of his Master, the loss of the Jedi, the loss of his friend Obi-Wan. It was too much. "We drove Obi-Wan down a path of craving power! All of us did! Qui-Gon, for taking in a younger, stronger Padawan, you of the Council, for your constant dismissal of him and making him feel like he was never good enough! Even me! I encouraged his experimenting, his new abilities, his desire to buck against the Council! He's on the path to power because he didn't know what other path there was!" Quinlan dropped into his seat, breathing deeply, his hand grabbing his forehead as he attempted to calm himself. "Why couldn't any of us see that he was just a man..."

They were silent for a long while. None of the Jedi knew what to say after that. Even Yoda shut his eyes, touching the Force and considering what the distraught Kiffar had said. It was Qui-Gon who finally broke the silence with a soft, "I agree."

"I do as well," Luminara jumped in, and they could feel the other Masters tense.

"He's killing Jedi..." Fisto said. "And he basically cut my head off."

"Yeah," Vos drawled, looking languidly at the Nautolan. "Says the man that has Aayla Secura _stroking his tentacle_." The Kiffar grinned widely when his former Padawan swiftly withdrew her hand, flushing furiously, and Kit's remaining tentacles wriggled, the Nautolan grasping his head with pain as the severed ones attempted movement as well. Ahsoka laughed next to him, her Master high-fiving her enthusiastically, and Tano grinned. It was good to have her Master at least acting like his old self, even if she felt through their connection that he was deeply pained.

"Nothing is going on, Master!" Aayla insisted as the Kiffar rolled his eyes.

"Excuses."

"You accused me of having an illicit relationship with Obi-Wan as well, and that was just as false as this is!"

Quinlan's eyes widened. "I _knew it_! Aayla, you she-devil!"

"I said just as _false_!"

"And you _were_ having sex with Obi-Wan, so..that makes it true!" The Kiffar winked at Qui-Gon, who gave Vos a long-suffering glance, but smiled in spite of himself. "There it is. _Proved_!"

"I give up..." Secura said, sitting on a haplessly laughing Kit Fisto's armrest.

"We are hopelessly off-topic," Mace sighed. "Can everyone who's not on the Council just leave..." Kit and Quinlan both in unison said no. Windu just sighed.

"I don't think we're as far off-topic as you think," Qui-Gon said softly. "I know my views are... _controversial_ , but it's not like we're not allowed to have these feelings. They're natural."

"...are we still talking about Aayla?" Fisto asked, and Quinlan rolled his eyes, their momentary comradery put to the side.

"Obviously not. Force, Kit, you are _so_ self-centered..."

Qui-Gon allowed a small smile to touch his lips. "The Jedi's strength is in how deeply we feel, but our duty to the galaxy at large must come first. We don't put our needs before what is best or necessary for the greater good, and it's in this that we failed Obi-Wan. Quinlan is right. He's just a man."

"A very dangerous one," Kit said quietly, the weight of his current loss suddenly upon him.

Qui-Gon nodded. "I agree. And we spend so much time talking about him because he's frightening to us, but I think Ahsoka was right. He's alone, and it's made him dangerous. But if we send the right Jedi at him, we may have a chance of setting things right."

"If he has changed, if he's just killing Jedi now..." Mace said softly, his voice trailing off. He didn't need to finish the thought for the implication to get through.

"If he's changing, it's because of us," Quinlan growled. "We're sending people to fight him and kill him. We're sitting around here and talking in circles about how to bring him down, and anyone backed into a corner is going to try and fight their way out of it."

"We need to be smarter about this," Qui-Gon said, clasping his hands in front of him and addressing Yoda directly, the diminutive Grandmaster listening attentively. "I say, for a time, we _don't_ engage him. He's killing Jedi openly, he's getting bolder, so I say we keep the Jedi far, far away from him."

"Qui-Gon, we'll _lose_ the war if we do that," Mace growled, but the elder Master didn't even look in his direction.

"We'll lose battles, yes. We'll position the Jedi to do what we were meant to do. We _protect_ the innocent, we'll fight against the Separatists, but if we come across him, we run and leave our clones behind to defend the civilians. Mace's account of Haruun Kal has Obi-Wan luring the Jedi away from their troops and the battle at large. If he can bait us away from the fight, than so can we."

"And you just expect us to let him run rampant?!" Windu growled dangerously before he yelped, poked again by Yoda.

"A plan, you have?" he asked, and Qui-Gon nodded.

"I'm starting to, yes."

"He needs to die," Mace growled, jaw clenched tightly, and his brown eyes shot to Yoda, hands poised to block another poke from the stick, the swift motion making him wince in pain, and Yoda chuckled, his stick held stationary in his lap.

"Kill the Sith Lord Obi-Wan?" Yoda chuckled. "Do this, will you, Master Windu?" The injured Jedi Master fumed, slowly crossing his arms in front of his chest and slinking down into his chair. "Death, his game is. Win at it against him, the Jedi cannot. In the Jedi Way, we must deal with him."

"The Jedi Way failed Obi-Wan before," Kit said. "How is it supposed to work against him now?"

" _He_ failed, not us," Luminara said. "The Jedi won before a thousand years ago. We can win now. The Force is with us," she said, smiling, but it faltered, her breath catching in her throat and her eyes growing distant for a moment before she collected herself, a small smile back on her face, but it didn't reach her eyes. Quinlan and Qui-Gon both leaned over to find those bright blue eyes lost and uncertain.

"I've been saying this from the beginning," Quinlan said softly, leaning forwards and brown eyes glinting mischievously. "We find a way to get him to do what the Sith do best." He grinned. "We get _them_ to kill each other."

"You want to turn the Sith against each other?" Shaak Ti asked, and the Kiffar shrugged, his Padawan grinning at his side.

"It's what the Sith are best at. The Jedi won all those years ago because the Sith ultimately destroyed each other, while we stood together." He took a deep breath, looking around the room. "And look at us now. Sitting in a room and arguing constantly. I know that opposing views helps us achieve wisdom, but if we aren't united where it counts, when it matters...we're all going to die."

"The Jedi are strong together," Qui-Gon said, looking at the Kiffar and smiling softly. "And Obi-Wan is a master class of picking our unity apart. Look what he's done. Mace, if you weren't alone, if you and Depa had stayed together, you may have bested him. Kit, if he hadn't divided your attention, he would have had four Jedi to fight at once instead of picking you apart one at a time. He's breaking our unity to beat us."

There was silence, and then Yoda nodded, all the other Masters inclining their heads as the Grandmaster did. "Agree with you, I do. United, we must be. But in what way, hmm?"

"We break the Sith up," Qui-Gon said swiftly. "Quinlan is right, the best people in the galaxy at killing Sith are the Sith themselves, and Obi-Wan has already killed one. If we can somehow manage to get him to turn on Dooku, or better yet, on his Master..."

"And how do you expect to do this?" Mace asked, and Vos grinned, pointing between himself and Luminara.

"We were his friends, and we've been dancing around this all day. He hasn't tried to kill us."

"No, he's just trying to make us fall with him," Luminara said softly, her voice distant.

"And that was _before_ he started openly trying to kill Jedi," Kit said, but the Kiffar shook his head.

"He won't try to kill us. He _will_ try to make us fall."

"That's _worse_ ," Mace growled. "The last thing we need is more Sith running around!"

"Do you have a better idea, Mace?" Quinlan purred. "Do we really want to send more Jedi against him? It turned out for you _really_ well, you'll never fight like you used to, and _I_ can't beat him. Right now, killing him just isn't an option."

"And isn't all life sacred to the Jedi?" Ahsoka asked, and all the Masters looked at her, the Togruta flushing furiously under the scrutinizing stares until Qui-Gon gently smiled at her.

"Our little Padawan _is_ correct. We must try something. Our previous methods have failed. Simply attempting to do the same thing going forward is madness. We need to get creative, and the more Jedi he kills, the harder this will be. It must be now that we try this, at least until we think of something else."

Mace groaned loudly, the medical droid at his side beeping frantically and looking for the pain his tortured noises were the result of. "Suppose we manage to turn him on the other Sith. What then?"

"No matter what, the Jedi win," Qui-Gon said gravely. "Either he kills them, or..." Jinn swallowed hard. "Or they will kill him."

"And if Dooku dies, the war is over," Quinlan said.

"And if Obi-Wan kills them all, that would make _him_ the Lord of the Sith," Master Windu said sternly. "He'd be more powerful than the current Sith Lord, and we're already at a loss on how to fight him. If we aid in Obi-Wan's elevation, than we're just helping to create our own enemy."

"We've already done that," Vos growled, sending a cold glare the way of the injured Master Windu. "Obi-Wan was once our best chance at defeating the Sith, and we turned him to them instead. And he's _still_ our best chance. This is an opportunity we can't afford to miss."

"We would be making things worse!" Mace insisted, and the Kiffar rolled his eyes and groaned loudly.

" _How_. How could they be worse! If this plan fails, what's the worst that can happen? Luminara and I die, or join the Dark Side. That is a small risk to take when you look at the possible victory we could achieve. At least we'd _know_ who the Sith Master was if it was Obi-Wan." Quinlan looked to Luminara, seeking confirmation, and found it when she softly smiled, nodding. "Besides, we've got _him_ ," Vos said, pointing to Yoda. "I don't think there's a Sith Lord alive that isn't piss scared of that little green man."

"This is all an _awful_ idea," Windu said, shaking his head when he saw the Masters actually _agreeing_ with Vos. "We'll be creating a Sith Lord more powerful than we can handle! Obi-Wan Kenobi, Sith _Master_? Do we really want that?"

"Must it go that way?" Qui-Gon asked, his blue eyes dark and sad. "Why is it that we feel he cannot find redemption?"

"You can't just turn your back on the Dark Side, Qui-Gon."

"And why not?" the Master asked. "It's happened before. Some Sith have found the strength to turn back to the Light. Look at Darth Revan, he was one of the most powerful of all Sith Lords, and he returned to the Jedi Order, partially because of his strong emotional ties to those he loved and cared about."

Mace groaned. "Where did you hear about this, Master Jinn..."

Qui-Gon shrugged. "As it so happens, the Forbidden Archive is open to the members of the Jedi Council. I've been doing some research."

"Is _that_ where Obi-Wan got it from..."

"Could be. But the point is that Obi-Wan has strong ties to us, and to others."

"Right, he wants to kill us," Mace insisted, and Quinlan smiled lazily.

"He wants to kill _you_ ," he corrected. "And probably Qui-Gon."

"I wouldn't mind if it meant bringing him back to us," Jinn said. "And we aren't his only ties. He's...particularly attached to Duchess Satine of Mandalore." Jinn smirked as Mace Windu rolled his eyes and Kit Fisto laughed softly, muttering something under his breath that earned him a sharp jab in the ribs from Secura. "I spoke to her when we were at Sundari to arrange the cease fire, and she said that they have been lovers since he left the Jedi." Yoda's ears perked up, though the Master's eyes stayed closed, and Qui-Gon could feel the tiny Grandmaster reach _deep_ into the Force. He reached himself to see if he could find what Yoda was looking for, but couldn't sense the Grandmaster's intentions.

"This could have _serious_ implications in the war, Qui-Gon," Mace said slowly, carefully. "If Obi-Wan has corrupted Mandalore and the neutral systems-"

"He hasn't. He wouldn't. He may be of the Dark Side, Mace, but he _loves_ Satine. Why else would a Sith Lord allow Mandalore to remain pacifists? Why wouldn't he revitalize their warrior culture and move them against us like they did during the Mandalorian Wars?"

"He could be biding his time, he-"

"Kriffing hell, Mace!" Quinlan cried, jumping from his seat and taking his Padawan by the arm. "Obi-Wan has always loved that girl! This isn't some Sith evil, this is a man that loves a woman and wants her to be happy! That's the simplest, oldest story in the entire galaxy! Keeping Mandalore neutral benefits _nobody_. To me, this looks like Obi-Wan's made himself a safe haven from the war, the Jedi, _and_ the Sith. It may not be enough for you, but it is for me. There's good in him, and Ahsoka and I are going to find it."

"...we are?" the Padawan asked, and Quinlan nodded.

"I'm wasting my time here. We know what to do, and we know where to find Obi-Wan. I'm going to Mandalore to see if I can't track him down."

"Be careful, Quinlan," Qui-Gon said softly. He felt something... _off_. He couldn't place exactly what it was, but something wasn't right. But the Kiffar just grinned, looking at the Masters with a cocky expression.

"Please, I'm always careful. I know better than to touch Kenobi's things, I learned that the hard way when we traveled together." He stopped, eyes turned to the ceiling for a moment. "I learned that lesson more than once. If he's really keeping Mandalore safe...I don't know, it's hard to be neutral in this war. Hundreds of other neutral systems have been invaded, but Mandalore and the Alliance of Neutral Systems hasn't been touched. We respect their neutrality, but the Separatists don't respect anything, and they haven't _touched_ it."

"You're right," Luminara said, standing as well and going to Quinlan's side. "It's possible that Obi-Wan has made it clear that its not to be touched. That...speaks well of him. That _sounds_ like him."

" _Well_ ," Quinlan drawled, "I always told him that he should go wild with this girl of his. I'm totally taking _all_ the credit for his turn on the Sith."


	42. Visions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...this is one of those chapters that started one way and ran off with me in a totally different direction. And now the thought has run away with me, and it is filling gaps that I was having trouble filling. The payoff isn't in this chapter, but it will be soon. You guys are just going to have to trust me on this one, I promise it's going to be good.

The bodies of a thousand Jedi lay scattered upon the ground, as far as Obi-Wan could see in any direction. From the infants to the elderly, he could feel their deaths in the Force as it screamed, the end of a legacy that had spanned thousands of years gone in a breath, and they did not go quietly. A wound had opened in the Force itself, and through the pain of its rending, Kenobi could feel... _triumph_. Satisfaction. The end of the corrupt Republic was replaced with Sith strength, and Obi-Wan saw its rise in the ripples of the Force. This was the will of the Force. And to Obi-Wan, it felt... _hollow_.

He frowned, the vision of the dead Jedi slowly beginning to burn, fade to something else, though he could not see what. The Jedi had an option to join the Sith, or die. There wasn't an alternative. There _couldn't_ be one. The continued existence of the Jedi Order would mean the war would never end, and Obi-Wan desired the emergence of order, the expunging of the vile corruption that the Jedi have caused. For too long, the Jedi had served the whims of a corrupt Republic, putting the will of politicians and schemers before the will of the Force. _That_ was why the Force had turned against the Jedi. That was why the Sith were on the rise. And that was why Kenobi had ultimately fell. The Force had willed it.

He wanted Mace Windu dead. He wanted Anakin Skywalker dead. He wanted Qui-Gon... _well_ , he wasn't sure what he wanted out of Qui-Gon. His old Master needed to suffer for turning Satine against him, albeit temporarily, but after that...he wasn't sure. Many Jedi needed to die simply because they didn't have any use, weren't strong enough in the Force, weren't of any interest as simple toys for him to break. But the Masters were a different matter entirely. He could break them so throughly that there would be little left of their old selves by the time he had finished, and that was far, far more satisfying to Obi-Wan than simply killing them, as he had discovered after his spree in Grievous' lair.

In the short term, it was intoxicating, so much so that after he had returned Grievous to Serenno to face Dooku's wrath, he found himself speeding to Mandalore, where he could sate the howling, hungry Dark Side in reckless, furious passion with his royal lover. It wasn't until now, sunk deep within the Force and surrounded by visions of darkness and flames that Kenobi realized that he had lost control entirely. For a moment, he was a slave to the Dark Side, allowing it to consume him completely in his rage and his lust for death, which was not usually something he craved. Be it the influence of the ancient Sith Lords through his holocrons, or simply the strength of the Dark Side the chaos of war was producing, he didn't know, but for the first time in a long, long time, Obi-Wan remembered his Jedi training. He still had three Jedi holocrons at his disposal. Perhaps he'd see if he could use Master Koth to open them, though Kenobi wasn't confident in the Zabrak's ability to do so. The Jedi had been... _not himself_ after Obi-Wan had drained the Force out of him. It had yet to be determined if the Force could be regenerated, but it seemed unlikely.

Sidious never lost control. Sidious controlled the Dark Side with absolute perfection, absolute mastery. If Kenobi was going to be the Dark Lord of the Sith, than he'd have to maintain that flawless focus as well. His greatly increasing powers must have been the cause of his bloodlust, and his own weakness prevented him from harnessing those powers to their full effect. This was just like when he was the Jedi that lay panting and moaning and lost to the feel of darkness on Talzin's alter on Dathomir. He was _Sith_. He was beyond this. Jedi execution was simply something that needed to be done. His pleasures would be taken elsewhere. Kenobi breathed deeply, sending his resolve into the Force, and the flames jumped, the bodies of the Jedi burning away into ash and embers.

He was on Mustafar, the lava bathing everything in deep red light and casting dark, sinister shadows that seemed to crawl along the floors and walls, and on the bank of the mighty lava river that flowed beneath his palace, Obi-Wan saw two beings, cloaked and strong in the Force, lightsabers clashing fiercely, one blue and one red, and Kenobi could recognize his own style in the combatant that wielded the red weapon. The other was far more aggressive, far more ferocious, far more angry, but the defensive Sith held strong, and in a flash of an instant, the fight was over, the blue saber hissing its deactivation as the Jedi fell to the ground, the thick robes catching fire on the burning banks, and the man began to scream. Like before, like _so many times before_ , Kenobi saw the face in flames, unrecognizable and shifting and changing as the flames danced around it.

Obi-Wan gasped when he awoke, his entire body jolting and tensing with such violence that he tumbled from the bed to land hard upon the cold ground. For a minute, he just lay there, thinking about the face in flames, until he heard Satine groan from the bed above. Grunting, he sat himself up and grasped the delicate hand that draped over the side of the bed, kissing it quickly before sitting on his knees, his head resting on his folded arms on the bed and looking into the Duchess' face.

"Every single night, Obi-Wan."

"I do seem to have a talent for waking up violently."

"From _nightmares_. You know, the doctors can prescribe something to help you sleep better."

"I told you, they aren't nightmares, they're _visions_." Obi-Wan groaned as he pulled himself back into bed, gathering the Duchess in his arms and holding her close.

"Is it the same one you've been having?" she asked, nestling against his strong, scarred chest. "The one with the fire?"

"Mhmm..." He absently ran her hair through his fingers, eyes closed as he pictured the vision in his mind, but it quickly fled when those delicate fingers lightly stroked at his high, sharp hip bone. "I don't know if it's a vision of things to come, or a warning. It's hard to sort out."

"Can't it be both?"

"Of course." Kenobi sharply inhaled when the woman's nails lightly drew across the space between his hips, and he clutched her to him tighter. "Back to sleep, my love, I'm sorry for waking you."

"I was already awake," she purred, sliding her leg over his body to straddle his hips, her hands braced on his strong chest, and with a quick grin, Obi-Wan pushed himself up to sit, leaning back against the headboard, the woman's long, slender legs on either side of him and resting in his lap. If her intent was to take him within her again, he _supposed_ he could rise to the occasion, but he felt the Dark Side to be sluggish and sated, having gorged itself on exquisite pleasure several time earlier that evening, and really, the need was met nearly as soon as the desire struck. Kenobi spent more nights on Mandalore than not as of late, as Sidious had sensed something changing within the Jedi and was determined to keep his beloved apprentice away from them until he had discovered exactly what it was. Instead, he sent Dooku out in an attempt to see if he could manipulate the Jedi's actions by putting the cause of the war away from Raxus, or his impenetrable fortress of Serenno. What was worse, the Chancellor couldn't pry from the Jedi exactly what it was they planned, claiming it to be simply the business of the Order that had no bearing on the state of the Republic. Palpatine knew better than to press, especially when it felt as though the Jedi had suddenly increased their awareness and honed their senses.

The Duchess leaned in and kissed at the tense muscles in Obi-Wan's neck, not out of passion and desire, but out of love, and the man relaxed, his hand resting on her pale thigh. At least for now, it seemed that the Duchess was sated as well. "Are all your dreams visions?" she asked, and Kenobi nodded. "Do you have them every night?"

"As of late, they have increased, yes..." He shifted his weight to bend his knees, allowing the woman to lean back on them, and he looked over her cautiously, reaching out with the Force to feel her intentions. While he did appreciate her interest and her desire to involve herself in the intangible power that guided him, it was also something of a point of contention. Qui-Gon's meddling, as it happened, turned out not to meddling at all. The Jedi still had to be punished, of course, but Satine's opinions on the Sith and her lover's place with them were beasts of her own making. She saw the Sith as dangerous, not because Qui-Gon had told her so, but because of the scars upon his body. It was foolish sentiment, of course, but the Duchess' mind could not be changed. She wanted Obi-Wan safe, and if _anything_ got in the way of that, she was expressly against it, so much so that she didn't object _too_ much over the death of the four Jedi at Kenobi's hands. After all, _they_ had attacked _him_ , as far as she knew.

They _had_ fought about that, as they fought daily about the war, about the Jedi, about the Sith, about his training. She was so against what he was being asked to do and endure that Kenobi had briefly toyed with the idea of entering her mind and making _corrections_ , but he ultimately rejected the notion. If he wanted a pleasure slave, he'd take one. He liked Satine's fire, even when it was directed against him, and he didn't want to alter that. After all, he was Sith. He was drawn to passion, and through all their fights and violent disagreements, Satine was willing to sacrifice a great deal to remain by his side. Love, after all, was a powerful motivator.

"Can you control the visions?" she asked, and the Sith nodded.

"A bit. If I focus, I can direct them. They don't always go where I want them to, but they go to things I need to see."

"But can you _make_ them happen?"

Kenobi considered this, closing his eyes and breathing deep, a hand lazily running down the length of the Duchess' body. "I can, yes. When I immerse myself in the Force, they come to me. And before you say _anything_ ," he drawled, feeling her emotions change from curious to indignant, "the Force takes me when I sleep. I cannot stop it. I _won't_ stop it. If the Force wants me, who am I to deny it?"

"Can you do it now?" Kenobi opened his eyes and looked into hers, a small smile on his lips when he found her to be curious and...somewhat excited. There were times she envied his connection to the Force, and she often yearned to understand it better, which Kenobi was always happy to speak on. With a great deal of instruction, she had been trained to be able to feel changes in her body when Obi-Wan touched her with it, and it left her willing and eager to learn more and observe her lover when he used it.

"It would be difficult," he whispered. "It requires a meditative state, and you, my love, are a distraction."

Satine's lips drew together in something of a pout. "Can't I help? Can't you try?"

Obi-Wan sighed, interlocking his fingers with hers. Even without the Force, they were connected. It was possible to use that attachment, those feelings, to sharpen the image of his sight, at least in theory. After all, the Force favored passion and emotions deeply felt. "I can try." He kissed her swiftly before he settled back against the headboard, his golden eyes sliding out of fucus as he surrendered to the pull of the Force. "Do try to keep silent..."

If Satine offered an answer, Obi-Wan didn't hear it. He was surrounded by the dead Jedi once again, a vision that he had been plagued with since the murder of the Jedi on Vassek. Though the vision seemed clear, Obi-Wan knew better than to assume that the meaning was literal, as it often was not. Breathing deeply, he felt for his connection with the Duchess, found it warm and comforting and loving, and he took it within him, the Force rippling as the vision sharpened, and Kenobi could see two figures in the distance. Squinting, he ran through the field of dead bodies, blood splashing his legs with each step, though he saw no blood upon the ground. The harder he ran, the further the figures seemed to drift away, and he slowed, standing among the bodies once again, and the figures refocused. Instead, he drew on the Force, drew on the physical and Forceful connection of the woman he loved, and they sharpened.

They were still too far to see clearly, but he saw a Togruta female, two white lightsabers in her hands, and the other was a young male, a Jedi Padawan, from the looks of it, clutching a blue lightsaber that quickly flicked off, the boy twisting the hilt and it divided in two pieces that he swiftly hid. He tried to see deeper, ask the Force for clarification and understanding, but there was none to be had. The vision broke apart, fading as a wind blew away the images like dust.

The image faded from the dark, dismal field to a scene that was so bright, Obi-Wan had to shield his eyes. Blazing suns made the grainy sand brighter than it had any right to be, and squinting against the blinding light, Kenobi could see a hooded, kneeling figure in a black cloak and a small blond child sitting cross-legged before him. He carefully drew closer, his heart racing when the figures didn't drift away from him, and Obi-Wan ran, feet sinking into the sand as he drew closer. Not ten feet from the pair, the Force stopped his movements, not physically, but with a sharp warning that tugged at his mind, commanding him to go no further. For a moment, anger began to well up inside him, the Sith's curious mind seeking knowledge and clarity within his visions, and _nobody_ had the right to command him. Just as soon as he had felt it, the wrath was gone. As he had always done, Obi-Wan would obey the Force.

The child, a boy, was smiling brightly, laughing in delight as the hooded figure drew something from his cloak and held them out in his hands, upon one palm sat a blue cube, and on the other, a red pyramid. Slowly, the objects rose, compelled by the Force, spinning slowly in the air, and the boy looked on intently, his blue eyes wide with wonder. Obi-Wan could feel his heart beat faster. He didn't know this child, but he knew the man to be himself. Could the child be his? He had his complexion, his sandy blond hair, eyes that were a similar shade of blue to what his own had been once, a similar shade to Satine's now...

The image began to fade, and with a frantic cry, Kenobi looked around for sight of the boy's mother, but saw nobody. Breathing deep, he grabbed hold of his connection with Satine and focused on her, trying to direct the Force and the visions in the way he wanted them to go. For a moment, the sandy planet stayed, the images rippling as if a wind blew across the surface of a pond. And then, there were flames. Burning all around him, they grew larger and larger until they consumed the Sith Lord, and from the dancing red inferno, a horned, black and red face formed out of fire and smoke, a cold, cruel laugh tearing through the fabric of the Force itself as the face of Darth Maul appeared before him. For a moment, Kenobi couldn't breathe. He needed to know what it meant, needed to learn all he could, and he threw himself deeper into the Force. He pressed forward until all else faded away, until the feeling of Satine holding him melted away, just one of the millions of lives on Mandalore. Kenobi even felt himself waver, his own substantial presence in the Force beginning to fade into the enormity of it all.

The sharp cry of his name pulled him out of the trance, reality snapping back into focus and hitting him with cold, dry air and wide, blue eyes, and he shivered, drawing the woman close to him for warmth. Satine was shaking. He had pressed too hard, gone too far. "I'm sorry..." he whispered in her ear.

"I thought you were _gone_ ," Satine said, her voice trembling and afraid, and she clung to her lover as if he may fade away if she didn't hold on tightly. "Your eyes were open, but you saw nothing, and you were shaking at the end..." She took a deep breath and kissed at his neck. "I thought something had happened."

"It did..."

"What did you see?"

Kenobi gently moved her to lay back against his legs again, his long fingers stroking her cheek. "Nothing that made sense. Not yet. I'll have to meditate on it, my Master may have answers..." The concern immediately left Satine's face and was replaced by something cold and confrontational, and Kenobi felt his chest tighten. He and Satine had been dancing around this very subject since he had fixed what she remembered about her conversation with Qui-Gon. The Jedi's words may have been different, but her feelings were not. The subject was bound to come up on its own. Qui-Gon had simply sped up the process, but now...

"Obi-Wan..." she started, cautiously, carefully, but determined. "I want you to leave the Sith."

"I know..."

She sucked in a sharp breath and held it, her eyes wide, searching, and Obi-Wan could feel her tense, searching her memory for something that she felt should be there, but wasn't. His Satine was smart, strong, and far too intelligent to be swayed for long. Especially not when he hadn't done anything to enforce the deception, and as he felt her swift mind begin to shake off the haze that surrounded her altered memory, Kenobi felt panic grip him. This wouldn't go well, and he couldn't blame the Jedi for it. This mess was of his own making.

"...how could you know that?" Satine asked slowly, her blue eyes searching his for meaning, but she couldn't discern what it was that blazed within him. He didn't answer. Satine bit her lip and looked away, breathing deeply for a minute then slowly said, "We've had this conversation. I...I-I promised Qui-Gon I'd talk to you about this."

The strong muscles of his chest tensed under her delicate hands at the mention of his old Master, and those golden eyes darted away in what the Duchess instantly recognized as guilt. She grabbed his bearded chin and forced him to look at her. "Obi-Wan..." Satine whispered. "What have you done?"

He didn't answer. He didn't need to. The memory came back to her, clear as if it had happened yesterday, but there were two accounts of what had occured, two conversations with Qui-Gon Jinn that overlapped, two meetings with Obi-Wan, one an argument, and one much more gentle. And between it all, she remembered her gentle lover, his golden eyes on fire with rage and violence, his hands in her hair and the Force in her mind as he altered the memory.

Her chest tight and unshed tears in her eyes, she struck him, certainly not the first time she had done so, but certainly the hardest, and once wasn't enough. By the time she was done, she was taking shallow, shaking breaths, tears streaking her cheeks, and there was blood on her hand. She looked at her lover, the Sith expressionless and still, his lip split in two places and a long, bleeding cut on his cheek. "Qui-Gon was right about you," Satine growled in her native Mando'a, her voice low and menacing. There were no words in Basic strong enough for this particular conversation. The Sith didn't look at her, and the conversation continued in the Duchess' native tongue.

"Yes," he returned softly. She struck him again, and droplets of blood flecked her skin. The Sith hardly registered that he had been hit.

"He called you a dangerous killer and I _defended_ you! I saw it in your eyes, Obi-Wan, there's darkness there!" The Sith said nothing, and she roughly grabbed his chin, forcing him to look at her again. "There was violence and murder there, I _saw_ it!"

"...I know..." he whispered, looking away again.

"Is that all you can say?!" Satine's heart was pounding so hard she could feel it in her throat, and she could understand her ancestor's violent natures. She felt... _violated_. "I trusted you, Obi-Wan! You changed my memory for something so _simple_?!"

"The Jedi were trying to use you against me, Satine, they-" She struck him again, and this time, he whimpered as he felt fresh blood pool in his mouth. The pain he could handle, but the wrath of Satine, her face beyond furious as silent tears ran down her face was far too much.

"Qui-Gon was _worried_ about you, and rightfully so! How could you return concern with... _this_?! There aren't even words for what you have done!" The Sith Lord didn't answer. "...I can't trust you. Not after this, not ever again. Not when you can just...go into my mind and change anything you see fit!"

"No, Satine, I can't," Kenobi began softly, yellow eyes fixed on her and pleading.

"Yes you can! You are a mind manipulator, even you have said you can reach into someone's mind and control people! How often have you done this to me?!"

"Just that once!" he said desperately, grasping at her hand, but she ripped it away from him, disgust on her fine featured face. "Satine, I could, but I _can't_ , not without you knowing, you can feel me when I'm in your mind, you'd _know_ I was doing it! I can't just-"

" _But you can_!"

"I-I... _can_ , yes..."

She laughed bitterly. "Without trust, there can be no love." She didn't see him move, but in the next moment, Kenobi's strong hands were wrapped tightly around her thin arms, the golden eyes blazing with fury and possession, his face twitching as he seemed to struggle. Satine's anger was instantly forgotten as fear gripped her.

"And I can fix _this too_ ," he growled, pulling her closer, blood dripping from his cheek and mouth into his beard and off his chin to stain his chest. "It would be _so easy_ to do it. I took care before not to damage you, but that seems to have been a _mistake_." He laughed brightly when the woman trembled, the golden eyes blazing with the power that he possessed inside him. "You will love me, Satine, you _have to_. I will not lose this, not now, not after all I have done to get to be with you."

Satine trembled, reached up a hand to touch the bleeding cheek, and the Sith's pupils narrowed, seeming to look somewhere far, far away, the blazing gold mere pinpoints as his body tensed, the man groaning as if he was in pain."Obi-Wan, _please_..."

With a growl, the Sith Lord released her, and the Duchess scrambled away from him, grabbing his tunic that lay upon the floor and wrapping it around her lithe form as she cautiously watched him curl up on the bed, body shaking and strong muscles convulsing. Slowly, Satine approached him, but stopped suddenly in her tracks when she felt his presence within her mind, and she withdrew immediately, fury overtaking her. Immediately, Satine felt his presence withdraw, and the man whimpered pitifully, as if he were injured. Taking a deep breath, she found her courage and approached him again, walking slowly around the bed so she could kneel beside him and look into his face.

His golden eyes were closed, his jaw clenched tightly, his breath ragged with effort, and she cautiously laid a hand on his. Hissing, Kenobi swiftly withdrew it, his eyes flying open, and Satine gasped when she found the beautiful, blazing gold iris rimmed with red. "Obi-Wan..."

"You need to get away from me..." he whispered, voice tight with pain and a small smile on his lips. "I can't control this..."

She didn't pause for a second before the Duchess asked, "What can I do?"

" _Nothing_."

"You are _struggling_ , Obi-Wan. I didn't see it before. Maybe it wasn't there before, but now, you need _help_." Kenobi bit his already bleeding lip so hard that new cuts began seeping blood, and he nodded, swallowing hard. "Will you control me?"

Whimpering, he shook his head. "I won't...not again, not ever again..."

Satine crawled back into the bed, the Sith Lord gasping as he wriggled away from her, but she grabbed his hand. "Let me help." She felt it again, the warm presence of him in her mind, and she tensed immediately, and with a pained whimper from the man beside her, it was gone. The Duchess looked at him, eyes narrowed in suspicion and rising anger, but softened immediately as she watched him violently struggle for control with an invisible presence. She had always thought the Force to be gentle and kind, but now she saw a different side of it, something that was darker than the binding, unifying presence that the Jedi spoke of. This presence was violent, powerful, and her lover was struggling with it.

She touched him again, drawing him closer to her, and his shaking hand tightly gripped at the silken tunic she wore. "I trust you, Obi-Wan..." she whispered. "Try again..." Satine felt it again, the snaking shadow of his presence in her mind, and she closed her eyes, accepting it, her body flushing and warming under the cautious, uncertain hand of the Force. It slowly closed around her, clinging and desperate, and slowly, Obi-Wan's breath began to slow, his body relaxing as the tight muscles convulsed at further, less intense intervals. She didn't know how long they stayed like that, but when Obi-Wan opened his eyes again, the blood red that encircled his iris was gone, the gold bright and expressive and warm.

"Thank you..." he whispered, gently kissing her forehead, releasing her from his grasp and throwing his legs over the side of the bed, standing quickly and beginning to redress. She didn't stop him.

"Where are you going?"

"Away from here," was the soft response, and he looked at her, a gentle smile on his lips. "Away from you. I can't stay here, not after this, not if I put you in danger..."

"Will you go see the Jedi?" the Duchess asked, and she watched her lover tense. "You need help, they can help you."

"No they can't, not with this. I'm going to see my Master."

" _I_ can help you, Obi-Wan, _please_. Don't go back to him." The Sith didn't move. Satine took a deep breath. "I want you to leave the Sith."

"I can't leave the Sith," Kenobi said softly, turning his gold eyes to his crestfallen lover. "But..." Satine perked up. Last time, in a conversation she only barely remembered, there had been no hesitation, no question on his place in the Sith. Not even her pleading, her begging, her imploring the man to stay and make a _family_ with her had swayed him. Something was different. Something had changed. "But I _can_ do something about my Master."

She didn't say anything, and Kenobi took a deep breath, ran a hand through his hair and turned to look at her, a confident smile on his face. "I'm becoming stronger, and I've been struggling to control it. But when I achieve control, when I can summon the Force with no fear of succumbing to it..." He strode to kneel before her, taking her hands in his own.

"Is that what happened tonight?" Satine asked, smiling when the Sith brought her fingers to his bloody lips.

"Yes...it's difficult to resist the call of the Dark Side, especially when it's pulling at me with the power that it seems to have so recently obtained."

She nodded, breathing deeply. "I understand...I think." Obi-Wan chuckled softly, and her hands tightened around the Sith's. "My trust in you is broken, Obi-Wan."

"...I know," he whispered, closing his golden eyes. "I want to fix it. Will you let me?" She was silent for a long time, slowly mulling the question over in her mind, and Kenobi felt apprehension and nerves build up inside him. Finally, she nodded.

"Yes. I want you to, I _love_ you, and I don't want to lose that." She gently stroked the cut on his cheek that she had unintentionally put there. "But I want you away from this Master of yours. He _hurts_ you. That has always been my concern."

"I'll do you one better," Kenobi drawled dangerously. "I'm going to kill him. When he's dead, and I'm Lord of the Sith..." Golden eyes fell on Satine, and he planted a kiss on her bare thigh. "It will be just you and me, Satine. We can rule together, we'll have a family..."

"I want that," the Duchess said quickly, much quicker than intended, and she felt breathless, her anger nearly completely forgotten for a moment. "That's all I've ever wanted."

"Me too. I saw it in the Force, this was meant to be." He smiled warmly, his heart beating faster when he felt her desire. "It seems like I'll be out of the war for a while. I'll stay here so I can fix this, anything you want, I'll do, you just say the word, my love..." She moaned softly when he kissed at her thighs, and the lovers were quickly interrupted by Kenobi's comlink. With a growl, he snatched the device and looked at the call, his eyes widening. "Speak of the Sith Lord himself..." he drawled, activating the com, the holoprojector angled away from Satine, his finger to his lips to signal the need for her silence. He answered the com, and the image of Darth Sidious appeared before him, and he bowed his head. "My Master..."

"Lumis, I need you to depart immediately for Florrum," Sidious growled swiftly, his voice tight with anger and...panic? Kenobi reached out to his Master, and did, in fact, find the man on the edge of complete hysteria.

"Florrum?" Kenobi responded, his nose wrinkling in distaste. "There's nothing on Florrum but pirates, Master, the war won't even touch that waste."

" _I know_ ," Sidious snarled, his distaste projected through the Force. "Tyranus is a poor substitute for you, my apprentice, but without him, this war is lost and it is all for _nothing_."

Kenobi's eyes widened, and before he could stop himself, he asked, "What happened to Tyranus?"

The Sith Lord's rage could be felt, his thin lips set in a deep frown. "Tyranus has been captured," Sidious snarled, leaning in close to the holoprojector, so the image zoomed menacingly on his shadowed, displeased face. " _By pirates_."

In his wrath, Sidious cut the com when Darth Lumis couldn't stop laughing.


	43. Florrum

Quinlan Vos was halfway to Mandalore when the Jedi Council contacted him in a panic and diverted him to the nearby Sertar sector, a fact that he was none too pleased by. He had been eager to see the woman that had captured Kenobi's heart as a Jedi, and somehow still managed to hold it as a Sith, but the Council was intent on spoiling all his fun. Forever. He sighed heavily as he dropped the small ship out of hyperspace, punched in new coordinates into the navicomputor, and made the jump to another hyperlane. Next to him, little Ahsoka was nearly bouncing out of her seat in her unconstrained excitement.

"Don't get too excited there, Padawan," the Kiffar drawled, leaning back in his seat and unceremoniously throwing his feet up on to the ship's controls, ignoring the panels as they began to flash with lights that had not been on before. It couldn't have been _that_ important, and he was certain that if there was a problem, the ship would correct it.

"Do you think it's true?!" she said, nearly shouting, and her Master winced, rubbing at his ear.

"This ship is small enough as it is, you don't need to yell. I can hear you, you're _right there_."

The Togruta smiled sheepishly. "Sorry, Master."

"What?"

" _Sorry, Master_!" she shouted again, grinning when the Kiffar winced, and then smiled brightly.

"No, it isn't true. There's nothing in the Sertar sector but the Florrum system, and there's nothing on Florrum but pirates. And the pirate that rules there..." he groaned, pinching the gold band tattoo on his face, "is Hondo Ohnaka."

"Bad news?"

" _Irritating_ news," Vos sighed, looking at his student. "This is the sort of thing he'd pull just to get us to go out there so he could rope us into something else completely."

"So, he _hasn't_ captured Dooku?" Ahsoka asked, her face falling when the Master shook his head. "Ah, I wanted to be the one to bring the Count back to Coruscant!"

"You may still, since he's finally gotten off his palatial ass and taken to the war. I don't even know why the Council is bothering to send us, there's no way a pirate could capture a Sith Lord when the Jedi haven't managed it."

"...but if it _is_ true..."

"Then _you_ , my dear Padawan, are going back to Coruscant for reenforcements."

Ahsoka groaned her displeasure. "Master, you are _always_ sending me away from the action!"

"Hey, the Council said we're just supposed to check and see if it's true!"

"Since when have you _ever_ listened to the Council! And you're on it now! You can do basically whatever you want!"

"Oh, if only that were true," Vos bemoaned, yawning as the ship came out of hyperspace, the planet materializing before the ship as the stars cam back into view. "The only thing that's changed since I've been put on the Council is now I have to attend _meetings_." He scowled. "I _hate_ meetings."

Ahsoka turned to him and grinned deviously. "Why don't we sneak on to Master Qui-Gon's ship? They're always running around the galaxy and defeating Separatists! Everyone's always talking about them!"

"Yeah, maybe we will," Vos drawled, bringing the ship own to the rocky, sandy terrain of Florrum on the hills above the compound he knew to be the headquarters of Ohnaka's pirate gang. He'd never had personal dealings with the Weequay, but it was difficult to be in his line of work without hearing about the legendary con artist Hondo, a man that always seemed to get what he wanted. Quinlan scoffed at the thought. It almost made the pirate out to be in the same caliber as the Negotiator. Leaving the engine running, Quinlan rose from his seat and handed his lightsaber to the Padawan.

"I _really_ think you should keep this," Ahsoka said grimly, holding it out to her Master, but Vos closed her fingers around the hilt.

"They said no weapons. They'd just take it from me anyway, and then I'd _never_ get it back. I've already lost it once."

"It just feels like a trap."

" _Yes_ , but what good is a trap if you know you're walking into it?"

She crossed her arms. "I'd say it takes a really, _really_ big idiot to willingly walk into a trap."

"Yes, but only if they don't have a plan," he purred, winking at her.

"Oh really," Ahsoka drawled, deadpan. "What's your plan. Master?"

"I'll let you know when I think of it." He pointed at the comlink on his wrist. "Take the ship into orbit and keep an eye on the channel. I'll contact you if I need help."

"I should really go with you, Master."

"Then _who's_ going to watch for Separatists!" Quinlan laid a large hand on the Togruta's thin shoulder. "There's no way that Hondo didn't contact the Confederacy as well. I need to know when they show up." Ahsoka sighed, nodding at the Kiffar, and with a quick grin and a wink in her direction, Quinlan left the small ship, leaping off the landing ramp and beginning his trek over the hills to the pirate's compound.

He climbed to the top of one hill, looking down on the compound, and Quinlan dropped to the ground, belly pressed against the sandy stone, and slowly inched his way to gaze down the ravine between the hill he was on and another. Down below, hidden from the view of the pirate compound, was a sleek black and red ship, and in the sand beside it sat a dark figure, his robes whipping in the wind as it blew through the ravine. He couldn't see him clearly, but Quinlan could sense him. _Obi-Wan_. He reached to tap the comlink on his wrist to inform Ahsoka, but stopped, hand frozen in the air over the device. With a deep breath, Quinlan Vos stood and worked his way down the hill towards the Sith Lord.

He slowed his steps, quieting his presence in the Force as he crept closer to Kenobi, the Sith's legs crossed, his eyes closed, his presence in the Force... _turbulent_. That was different from before. Now, he could sense him, feel him, reach out and touch the anger and confusion that coursed through his former friend. Ahsoka had been right. His friend was... _conflicted_. Alone. Sympathy coursed through him, a deep understanding of exactly what his friend had been through, and he stepped closer, stopping when he felt the Sith tense, his defenses raising suddenly, and his presence disappearing into the swells of the Force.

"Not another step closer, Jedi," Kenobi whispered, his voice tense and strained, his eyes closed, and Quinlan respectfully stood still. Taking a deep breath, Obi-Wan rose, his golden eyes opening and observing the Jedi cautiously, and then he smiled. "I'm glad it was you they sent, Quinlan Vos."

"This your trap, Obi-Wan?" the Kiffar asked. "Did you trick a bunch of pirates into contacting the Republic just so we could meet on a remote, desert planet?" He smirked. "You could have done better than Florrum, I hear Spira's beautiful. Perfect for a romantic getaway."

Kenobi smiled softly, and Quinlan felt the defenses around the Sith slowly relax, and in the Sith, he found... _relief_. "I heard it's a tourist trap. Over four thousand hotels on a single planet is a bit excessive, and...well, there aren't many pirates running around in the Core."

Vos shrugged. "I don't mind the crowds."

"I do. In any case, this isn't my trap. I suspect I'm here for the same reason you are."

"Dooku?" The Sith nodded, and Quinlan groaned. "I suppose that confirms things for me. If you're here, Dooku must be as well."

"Yes," Kenobi whispered, closing his eyes and drawing deep of the Force. "I feel him here. Can't you?" Quinlan shook his head, and the Sith Lord smiled. "You Jedi never have been able to sense the Dark Side. Why should you now?"

"I can sense it in you." As soon as he said it, the Sith's defenses rose, stronger than before, but the anger raging around his friend was still visible as a rippling disturbance in the Force. Something had changed in his friend since Christophsis. Something within him was stronger, darker, and the Kiffar watched closely as the Sith Lord seemed to struggle with control. This was good. Or very, _very_ bad. He stepped closer to Kenobi. Quinlan Vos wasn't afraid of the Dark Side. "You alright?"

For a moment, those yellow eyes narrowed in rage, a deep growl in his throat, but Kenobi quickly relaxed, bit his lip and looked away. "...I need help."

Quinlan didn't think twice before he asked, "What can I do?"

Golden eyes regarded the Kiffar with suspicion, caution, than interest, and Vos could feel the Sith Lord reaching out with the Dark Side to touch his mind, sense his intentions, and he found himself allowing it. Kenobi nodded as he sat again, legs crossed before him, and Quinlan dropped to the ground to sit across from him. "May I explain the trouble?"

"I wouldn't have offered help if I weren't willing to give it."

"The Dark Side," he began, carefully measuring his words, "has me in its grasp."

Quinlan scoffed. "Uh, yeah, that's what being Sith is."

"No, it isn't. Sith is being in control of the Dark Side, but I've...lost control. Not completely, but I've recently become more powerful, and I've been drawing more of the Dark Side within me."

"Can you turn away?"

Kenobi smiled. "That's not going to happen, Quinlan. You'd understand if you knew what I've been through to get here."

"I _do_ understand," the Kiffar whispered, groaning softly when he felt the Sith's presence grasp at his mental shielding. "Qui-Gon gave me your lightsaber, I... _saw_ everything. All that had happened, all you endured, everything that led you to _this_." He took the Sith's hand in his own, determination on his face when he felt Kenobi's walls slip further. "I understand. I have my own troubles with the Jedi, you know that."

Obi-Wan nodded. "I feel the Dark Side in you, Quin. Do the Masters not?"

"They've never been able to feel it, have they?"

"No, they haven't." The Sith Lord took a deep breath, feeling the Force, the powerful bond between him and the Jedi before him that seemed strengthened, despite their time apart, despite existing on opposing sides. He could feel the Jedi's consciousness slowly enter his own, and he allowed it, the Jedi's resolve strengthening his own and centering himself in the Force, the Dark Side within him hissing and thrashing and Obi-Wan slowly tamed it and brought it to heel. By the time he opened his eyes, Obi-Wan could feel the Dark Side, wild and feral and surrounding him, like he was submerged in the waters of the Force. But where before it ruled him, overtook him as if it were nothing, now, he was in control again, a Sith Lord once again. His emotions were in turmoil, yes, and it was difficult to distinguish where his own will ended and the will of the Dark Side began but for the moment, he had focus and clarity. The rest, he would sort through with his Master.

When he opened his eyes, Kenobi was met with the mischievous smirk of Quinlan. "Is this what you've been doing here? Meditating?" Kenobi nodded. "How _very_ Jedi of you."

"The Jedi have their uses," was the soft purr, a sly smirk crossing the Sith's face. "Our philosophies on control, at least, are similar. And I wasn't _just_ meditating. I was considering leaving Dooku here."

Quinlan almost choked. "You would _leave him_? Why?"

Obi-Wan shrugged. "It would be _very_ funny." Quinlan snorted, and the Sith Lord grinned, pointing to the Kiffar's empty belt. "No lightsaber?"

"They requested we come without weapons."

"And you _listened_?" Obi-Wan asked, rolling his eyes. "Quin, they are _pirates_. You really expect them to follow the rules?"

"Uh, _Jedi_ ," he drawled, pointing to himself, but the Sith just laughed.

"Since when have you ever followed the rules, hmm? You drink to excess, you gamble, I've seen you take girls against walls in alleyways!" Kenobi grinned, his yellow eyes glowing with delight. "And look at you now. Giving aid to a Lord of the Sith."

Quinlan shrugged. "You're my friend, Obi. Even if you're an idiot." The Kiffar's face suddenly grew serious, his eyes distant, and he drew closer to the Sith, his voice a low whisper. "And...I understand. I've...felt the call of the Dark Side as of late. My Master...Tholme is dead, and I-" Vos froze when he felt Obi-Wan's presence in his mind, his Force presence warm and comforting and deep with understanding, despite it being of the Dark Side. It was passionate, angry, emotional, and Quinlan could feel his own ire rising, sharing in the charged bond between them.

He couldn't do this with the Jedi. He could grieve, yes, but his rage at his death, the lust for revenge, his anger at the Jedi for failing to save the elderly Master...these things could never be expressed. They had to be put away, released to the Force, his deep emotions ultimately meaning nothing, and Quinlan couldn't cope with that. He felt deeply, expressed it freely, and with Obi-Wan, he'd never had to conceal himself. It was dangerous, yes, but Vos had _always_ lived dangerously. That was part of the fun.

"I understand," was all the Sith Lord said.

"I know you do. Better than most." The Kiffar grinned slyly. "We always did work so well together..."

The Sith scoffed, his golden eyes lighting up with laughter. "I'd expect no less from you, my dear lover."

"Mm, you better stop talking like that to me, or you're going to have more pressing concerns than Dooku..."

"Thank the Force for that, this mission is only good for a laugh anyway." Kenobi shrugged. "We are, of course, in opposition on this matter, and without a lightsaber, I fear you may be at a disadvantage."

"Well, I have you, dearest, so I _do_ have a lightsaber." Kenobi's eyebrow arched as Quinlan drew closer to him, the Kiffar's mouth spread in a sly grin. "So, what's the plan, oh mighty Lord of the Sith?"

"...well, I _was_ just going to go in and kill them all." The Kiffar frowned, and Obi-Wan crossed his arms over his chest. "But I reconsidered just before you arrived. The thought wasn't my own, and the Dark Side _doesn't_ manipulate me."

"Oh, thank the Force for that!" Quinlan drawled sarcastically. "I thought I'd have to deal with someone that was _completely_ out of control. You know, the sort that would just up and murder four Jedi."

The golden eyes flashed dangerously as a delighted smile came across the Sith Lord's face, but he quickly bit down on his lip and shook his head, feeling the Dark Side reel within him and fill him with bloodlust. His Master had once told him that the Sith were no longer the butchers of the past, but the architects of the future, a lesson that Sidious had learned from his own Master, Plagueis, and it was something he held close to him. It was one of the reasons he had chosen Dooku, strong of countenance and control, and why he had chosen Kenobi as well. Death was a part of the Dark Side, yes, but Obi-Wan was taught better. He deserved better. He needed his Master still, even if the desire to take the mantle of Lord of the Sith for himself was growing by the day. He still had much to learn before he could rule the galaxy under Sith domination.

"Come now, Quin, I only murdered three of them." The Sith Lord smiled as he felt the Jedi tense, the tanned hands curling into fists at his side, his teeth grinding together, and satisfaction ran through the Sith Lord when he felt the unchecked anger of Quinlan Vos reach for darkness. _This_ was what he wanted. This was what he loved. This was what filled him with satisfaction and pleasure and delight and allowed him to keep the vicious Dark Side in check. "The Master...what was his name, I never got it."

" _Daakman Barrek_ ," the Kiffar growled deeply, his hand reaching for his belt, snarling when he felt for his lightsaber to find nothing, and the Sith Lord laughed softly.

"He put up a fight. Truly, I admire his bravery. He died well, that should please you."

" _It doesn't_!" the Kiffar snarled, and Kenobi reached out and tugged on the Jedi's mind, and Quinlan stumbled, kneeling on the ground and gripping handfuls of sand in clenched fists.

"Careful now, Quin..." Kenobi softly cautioned. "That's the Dark Side in you. You can feel it, I know you can. You walk a dangerous line, my friend, you stand on the precipice of falling..." He drew closer to the kneeling man, the Kiffar's breath ragged and uncontrolled, his eyes wide and wild. "Just a little push, Quinlan, come now...you can feel the power around you, just reach out and take it. Fall with me, Quin..."

Gritting his teeth and shaking under the effort, the Kiffar managed a strained laugh, his dark eyes meeting Sith gold. "We have...so many problems in our relationship..."

"Yes, I suppose we do," Kenobi purred, hooking his thumbs around his belt and watching as the Jedi struggled to control the temptation to grasp at the darkness in his anger. Obi-Wan could see that it wasn't the first time the Jedi Master had struggled like this.

"Things were so much better when we lived together, sweetheart..."

Kenobi smiled. "You were lacking in the bedroom, my sweet. I had to move on."

"Insatiable Sith bastard."

"Aloof Jedi scum."

" _Force_ , you turn me on," Quinlan groaned, rising to his feet on shaking legs and smirking, his emotions once again under control, but Kenobi could feel the soft flow of the Dark Side within his friend. "So, are we at an impasse? The Republic can't get here fast enough to take Dooku into custody, and I doubt there's much I can do to convince you to let me have him."

"That isn't an impasse, Quin, that's the situation one hundred percent in my control. But...I don't know..." he drawled. "I believe I could be convinced." The Sith Lord smirked when he felt that he caught the Kiffar's full attention, even though the Jedi's face showed nothing beyond that passive smile.

"I think," Quinlan drawled, "that we may benefit from working together on this." The Sith Lord laughed at that.

" _You_ , Master Vos? Working together with someone? I know how you prefer to work alone."

"You changed my idea on the matter," he said indifferently. "It's hard to go back to working alone after being so close to you for so long. Even if my other partners have been terrible substitutes for you."

"Can't get enough of the Dark Side, can you?"

"I suppose I can't." The Kiffar took a deep breath, standing closer to the Sith Lord, and Obi-Wan had to look up at his towering height, the Jedi's eyes sympathetic. "I've...missed you, Obi-Wan. Even if you're Sith, I..." He swallowed hard, emotions running through him, and Kenobi had to step back. It was overwhelming, especially out of a Jedi. "I'm just glad you're alive."

"...alright," Kenobi said, folding his hands behind his back. "We'll work together. What did you have in mind? I was just going to force them to hand Dooku over to me, but..."

"But that's sort of _bad_ , isn't it?"

"It would be against your Jedi teachings, yes."

"...but that would make it _so_ much easier, wouldn't it?" Kenobi nodded. "The problem is Hondo," the Jedi drawled, tapping his forehead. "He's highly intelligent, and he's not going to be fooled by Force suggestion."

Kenobi rolled his eyes. "Not by _your_ Force suggestion. I don't give them an option."

"Is that how you get all your women, Obi?"

Kenobi smiled. "Only the ones that say no." For a moment, Quinlan looked like he would agree with the idea, the temptation of seeing Dooku in Republic custody driving the Kiffar to consider things he previously wouldn't have. But the Jedi shook his head, laughing nervously as he did so.

"No, we can't do that. We'll just have to do things my way."

"Let me guess..." Kenobi drawled, arms crossed in front of him and a bored expression on his handsome face. "You're going to _talk_ to the pirates."

"I can be very convincing."

"Really. They don't call _you_ the Negotiator."

"They don't call me Sith Lord either."

Obi-Wan sighed, a pained expression on his face, but his golden eyes were amused. "Fine, Quinlan. We'll do things your way."

"Since it's my plan," the Jedi drawled, leaning in toward the Sith, "I get to keep the Count."

Kenobi's nose wrinkled. "Didn't know you were in to older men, Vos."

The Kiffar shrugged. "Tastes change. Yours certainly have."

"Not so much as you may think. I've always craved power." Kenobi shrugged. "But, if you somehow manage to get Dooku off this planet with _your_ plan, than I'll step out of your way. A Lord of the Sith _deserves_ to be captured if he can't get away under those conditions."

Grinning, Quinlan backed away from the Sith Lord and activated his comlink. When he heard the device pick up, he quickly commanded, "Ahsoka, I have reason to believe that Dooku is here. Return to Coruscant and alert the Council that we are in need of assistance. We're going to pay the pirate's ransom and get out of here." The Kiffar grinned when the delight dropped off the Sith Lord's face, sighing and rolling his eyes when the Padawan on the com cheered loudly.

"Can't I just send a message?"

"I wouldn't, the message won't get through. Go get them personally, tell them I have Kenobi here."

This time, the Padawan could be heard coughing loudly. " _He's there_?!" she shouted in disbelief. "How do you know?!"

"I'm with him. Say hello, Obi-Wan." Vos held out his wrist to the frustrated Sith Lord, his face displeased, and he leaned over the com.

"Hello, Padawan Tano," Kenobi drawled, his clipped accent lazy and affected with a tone that conveyed infinite boredom and great suffering.

"...Master, are you making bad friends again? We've talked about this."

"Yeah, well, this is an old friend, so it doesn't count. Though, by the end of the day, I'll be very surprised if I haven't found myself falling in with the pirates here. You better hurry." With a groan from the Padawan, the com cut, leaving Quinlan to look at a very inconvenienced Sith Lord.

"This really does complicate things," Kenobi drawled. "Do you really think the Jedi have the ability to send you the backup you need in time?"

"They absolutely won't," the Kiffar sighed. "Just knowing you're involved will have them talking in circles again, they'll be at it for hours."

"Quinlan Vos, it almost seems like you've done this on purpose," the Sith said, smirking when he saw mischief and cunning in those brown eyes.

"It's been a while since we've been on a mission together," he said, walking beside Obi-Wan as he slowly made his way up the hill toward the pirate's complex, pulling his black hood over his head to shield himself from the blazing sun. Even in the light shadows, Quinlan could see those gold eyes glow.

"It could very well be the first time a Jedi and a Sith have ever done anything together," Kenobi said softly, a faint smile on his lips. "But...you're not really a Jedi, are you?"

"Of course I am."

"You don't follow the Code, you stand in the shadows of the Force rather than the light. I feel the Dark Side within you, Quinlan. It's alive, and it's growing. It doesn't rule you, but that's a good thing. Mastery of the Dark Side is the first step to using its power to its full potential."

"And you have mastered it?" the Kiffar scoffed, the Sith slowly shaking his head and falling silent. They reached the top of the hill and looked down at the pirate's compound, and with a heavy sigh, Kenobi began the long trek down. Vos didn't move. "Why did you kill those Jedi?"

The Sith Lord stopped, and without turning around, he said, "I wanted to. I needed to. The Dark Side demanded it of me."

"Was it worth it?" he growled. "Was it worth murdering those Jedi for the power you gained from it? That power left you out of control, it took a _Jedi_ to help you!"

Kenobi was quiet for a moment before he turned around and took a deep breath, looking up at the bright sun for a moment before he caught the furious gaze of the Jedi. "I have learned something valuable about myself and the Dark Side, so yes, it was worth it."

"You were never a murderer before, Obi-Wan, look what the Dark Side has done to you!"

"Do you expect me to show remorse, Quin?" Kenobi asked, drawing closer to the Jedi. "Do you expect me to reject the consequences of my actions? I don't regret what I have done, because ultimately, it was the Force that guided my hand on Vassek. I have yet to fully understand what it is the Force needs me to do, why it needed me to do it, but it was a compulsion that wasn't my own."

"You're making _excuses_!"

"It isn't an excuse. I'm an instrument of the Force, Quinlan. I have no right to deny it anymore than you do."

"You think the _Force_ would aid in murder? The Force wouldn't disturb itself in that manner!"

Kenobi smiled sympathetically at his friend, reaching out to him with his feelings and finding the Kiffar seeped in anger. This wasn't about Vassek. This was about his Master. "Your vision is clouded, my friend," he whispered. "It's hazy and unclear. Where you see disturbance, I see _focus_. My visions are vivid and frequent. The Force shows me the way on its own accord, and you can have that clarity too. You just need to reach out and _take it_."

"The Dark Side leaves things unclear," the Jedi insisted, but the Sith Lord merely smiled sadly.

"Once, perhaps. But not anymore. The tides of the Force have changed. You must accept this, or perish. That isn't my will, or the will of my Master, it's the will of the Force. Fighting it is as pointless as fighting the passage of time. In the end, we all must surrender to it." Kenobi unclipped his lightsaber from his belt and held it out to the Kiffar, the Jedi recoiling, feeling the Dark Side surround the weapon. "You want the truth of things, Quinlan? Take it. Use those powers of yours and see what happened to me, and you'll understand. You'll find it clouded, but if you reach to it with the Dark Side, _everything_ will be clear..."

Quinlan stared at the weapon for a long while, the Sith carefully watching the struggle on the Jedi's face as he shifted between desire and conflict and revulsion and uncertainty. The thirst for knowledge was a powerful motivator, and for a moment, it looked as if the Kiffar would reach out and take the weapon. His hand mere inches from the lightsaber, he stopped and withdrew his hand. "N-no, I won't...I can't, I..."

"Don't explain, I understand," Obi-Wan said, concealing his weapon into the fold of his robes. "I was afraid in the beginning too."

"...I know..."

Obi-Wan smiled, taking in a deep breath. " _Well_! No more business, I think. We have several hours before your Jedi arrive, if they choose to arrive at all. You must feel right at home around all these pirates and outlaws, so, I think we're in for a _very_ fun time."

Quinlan chuckled, his shoulders relaxing when he felt the Sith Lord ease, the serious tone dropped in favor of something much lighter, more playful, so... _Obi-Wan_. "Yeah, I think this could be the best time I've had since our mission to Dromund Kaas."

Kenobi whistled. "That long? At the time, it was horrifying, but in hindsight..." He grinned. "I remember that mission _very_ fondly."

"Mm, I remember you not remembering a _thing_!" the Kiffar laughed. "You were so drunk you could barely stand! And the _girls_!"

"I'm given to understand it was rather hedonistic, yes." Kenobi smiled almost sheepishly, and Quinlan could feel their connection through the Force, still strong, and still very, very much alive. "I only remember because I had a look at the girls' memories, I wouldn't have known otherwise."

"I...suppose that's where you fell," the Kiffar whispered, eyes cast to the sandy stones at his feet. "I saw the memory from the Temples, you...that was the real end of you, wasn't it?"

"It was the first time I actually felt like a Sith, yes. I had to remind myself that I was a Jedi on the way to the second Temple. I wasn't, of course, I fell long before that." Quinlan said nothing. He hardly moved. "Quin. It wasn't your fault."

"It feels like it was."

He shook his head. "You had nothing to do with it. It was my Master, it was the Council, it was...my own ambitions, my own desires...I needed to be stronger, I _wanted_ to be. I chose this." Kenobi smiled when the Jedi looked at him. "This was the will of the Force. I was always meant for darkness."

"Were you."

"I know I was." He punched the Kiffar's arm. "You should be pleased. I _did_ lighten up a bit when I embraced the Dark Side. You were right about release, Quinlan, we all need it."

The Kiffar chuckled at that. "I _have_ always said so, Obi-Wan. Too bad you swore off drinking after that, I feel like we could have a _great_ time with the pirates."

Kenobi flashed him a sinister grin. "I _may_ have changed my opinion on that matter." The Kiffar grinned brightly, that all too familiar mischief in those brown eyes.

"I think I could use a drink."

"Quinlan, my friend, I was just about to suggest the same thing."


	44. Escape

Quinlan and Obi-Wan were surrounded by pirates the second they stepped into the compound, two dozen blasters trained on the Force sensitives as they raised their hands into the air. "Still think this was a good idea?" Kenobi purred, leaning in toward the Jedi as a Weequay holding a scanner approached, his face grim and serious.

"Are any of my ideas any good? Come on, Obi, I've changed, but not that much." The scanner quickly ran over Quinlan, finding nothing, and when he moved to the Sith, Kenobi simply smiled, his fingers wiggling slightly in the air.

"I'm unarmed," he said, his voice flat and distant. The Weequay pirate's eyes seemed to cloud, and he shut the device off, informing the others that they Jedi were unarmed, and they were ordered to follow. Slowly walking after the pirates, Quinlan drove his elbow into the Sith Lord's ribs, Kenobi grunting in pain for a moment before laughing softly.

" _You_ said you were going to play by _my_ rules..."

"Have you seen anyone die or genuflect yet? The second someone starts calling me Master, you can get suspicious."

"What, is that what turns you on these days?"

"Mm, more than you know."

A wicked smirk on his face, Quinlan leaned in toward his companion and in a low, husky voice, whispered " _Master_ ," into his ear. The Sith Lord couldn't repress a shiver.

"You're just begging to be subjugated, aren't you..." Kenobi purred as they entered a large banquet hall filled to the brim with Weequay pirates drinking and celebrating and debasing themselves in darkened corners or on isolated tables.

"Sounds like a good time to me, _Master_."

"Unless you want to have these pirates watch me claim you right here in the middle of the room, you better save that kind of talk for tonight when we're alone, darling." They were brought to an elevated table in the back of the hall where a Weequay in a red coat sat lounging on his simple chair, drinking a cup of green liquid that Quinlan instantly recognized as a drink simply known as pirate brew, and knew it to be _obscenely_ potent.

"Gentlemen!" the Weequay cried, throwing his arms up in greeting as the men approached. "Welcome, welcome!" He snatched his drink off the table, drank deeply from it, and, sighing, drawled, "Can I offer you a drink?"

"You most certainly can," Quinlan drawled, he and Obi-Wan sliding into chairs opposite the pirate as the Weequay barked at his men to deliver drinks to the guests. "I want to congratulate you on your capture of Count Dooku," the Jedi drawled. "It's _very_ impressive, Hondo, you must be proud."

The pirate's chest puffed with pride. "Yes, it was _very_ impressive. Even a Sith Lord is no match for me and my men! Especially with that glowing stick of his." Hondo stood, mimicking the motions and sounds of a lightsaber, and Kenobi leaned forward, elbows on the table.

"You don't say..." he drawled. "Tell me, how did you do it? Those weapons can cause a lot of damage."

"You don't have to tell me!" Hondo scoffed. "I have men without arms, men without legs, men without heads..."

"I don't imagine those won't be fighting again anytime soon, hmm?"

Hondo pointed at the Sith, a wide smile on his face. "Ah, you Jedi are _cheeky_. Perhaps I should have contacted the Confederacy first, no doubt they would pay better for their leader back."

"Now, now, don't get hasty..." Quinlan said, hands up in front of him and projecting calm through the Force. "We aren't here to argue, we just want to confirm that you have Dooku."

Hondo nodded enthusiastically. "Of course, of course! But _first_!" He slid two mugs with an ample supply of the green liquid to Vos and Kenobi. "We are celebrating! Good hospitality first, my mother used to say! Good feelings make for good business!"

"So it does," Quinlan drawled, raising his cup and tapping it against the pirate's, grinning as he leaned close to the Sith. "These drinks are drugged," he whispered between clenched teeth.

"Of course they're drugged, Quin, they're _pirates_ , and three hostages are better than one."

"I knew it was a trap."

"As did I, my friend."

The Kiffar grinned, standing from his seat, glass in hand. "Do you mind of we mingle with your men? No doubt they want to boast and brag about their capture today."

Hondo swept his arm in a wide, welcoming gesture. "By all means, my friends." Smiling, Quinlan sauntered off, drink in hand and touching everything he could get his hands on. With a small smile, Kenobi rose from his seat as well, coming around the table to stand next to the pirate, who eyed him cautiously.

"I don't know what you know about the Jedi, Ohnaka," Obi-Wan drawled smoothly, secretively, leaning in slightly, and the pirate leaned up, tilted his ear in his direction. "But the Order forbids us from a great deal of... _indulgences_."

"Oh, you poor man, it must be awful for you!" the pirate wailed dramatically, and Obi-Wan smirked. This man was all theatrics, as one had to be when conducting business. The Sith decided he liked this pirate.

"Yes, it is," he whispered, leaning in closer. "So, since we are so far from the Temple, and it seems we may be spending the night, we thought we may...indulge." He smiled. "We've never been intoxicated before, we thought it may be fun."

The pirate held up his hand. "Say no more, my friend. We'll keep drinks coming your way. To seal the deal of our business, of course."

"Of course." Kenobi smiled, bowing respectfully and leaving the table to join Quinlan, taking Hondo's cup with him and sipping it, shrugging when he found it to be far less potent than the Mandalorian liquor he and Satine consumed fairly regularly, and throwing back the rest of the green liquid, sighing as it burned on the way down. He sidled next to Quinlan and whispered, "I believe I managed to convince him to send us drinks that _aren't_ drugged, but we shall have to see. We aren't going to leave here without a fight, Quin." He smiled, pointing to the doors they came in, closed tightly and guarded by several pirates with blasters.

"A fight, or a _very_ clever plan..." the Jedi groaned.

"And you have this plan?"

"Not at all."

The Sith smiled. "Your way has failed. Do you surrender? We can all be out of here in just a moment if I-"

"No, no, not yet." The Kiffar growled and ran a hand over his thick hair. "You just turn _right_ to evil, don't you?"

"Evil?" Kenobi chuckled. "Am I evil simply for being stronger and more awake than others?"

"W-well-"

"It's not like I suggest we kill them, don't get me wrong. I suggest that we _make them_ give us what we want."

"We? Obi-Wan, our deal was I get Dooku if it's _my_ plan that does it."

Kenobi grinned. "I may be willing to reconsider that as well." The Kiffar's breath hitched, and the Sith could feel dark impulses rushing through his friend. The temptation was nearly tangible. After all, it wasn't such a big jump from Jedi mind trick to Sith mental domination. Quinlan already had the anger, the frustration with the Council, the disregard for the Code. It wouldn't take much to convince the Jedi to simply let go and fall, but Obi-Wan suspected that Quinlan Vos would end up beside him in darkness all on his own.

The Jedi laughed nervously and looked away from those piercing golden eyes. He knew the Sith yellow was a sign of corruption, a physical manifestation of the stain the Dark Side left upon a person's soul, but all Quinlan could see was passion and power and freedom. His once uptight friend was... _happy_. Relaxed and at ease. Angry, yes, but he was also free to express it, and that appealed to the Kiffar. Instead, he watched as one of the pirates delivered several bottles of the green alcoholic beverage that was being freely and cheerfully imbibed throughout the compound to the table they stood beside. Kenobi reached out and one of the bottles flew to his hand, the Sith looking over the bottle cautiously. He handed the bottle to the Jedi.

"I don't sense any tampering, would you care to check?" With a grin, Quinlan closed his eyes, the history of the object easily flying through his mind, and he whistled when he uncorked the bottle.

"No tampering. I don't know what you did, but you must have impressed Hondo, because these babies come from his reserves."

"Huh. Didn't know pirates _kept_ reserves." He opened the bottle and sat upon the table, smiling wickedly at the Jedi. "Now, did we come here to drink, or talk circles around each other about Count Dooku?"

Grinning, Quinlan reached over and took one of the other bottles off the counter and swiftly opened it. "Pretty sure it might be both." He took a long drink from the bottle and the Sith followed suit, and Quinlan had to blink back tears that rose from the stinging in his nostrils. "Damn, the pirates don't mess around."

"No?" Kenobi asked softly. "Is this what you consider strong these days?" He answered the Jedi's questioning look with a shrug and a smile. "I've spent the past seven years drinking Mandalorian Narcolethe."

"Well..." Quinlan drawled, bringing the bottle to his lips once again. "This contest just became a bit more even."

"Shall we wager Dooku? I've always enjoyed mixing business with pleasure."

Quinlan laughed. "You know, the Jedi aren't supposed to gamble." He smiled wickedly. "I'm all in, Kenobi."

* * *

Quinlan woke up to find himself immediately regretting having done so. The pain in his head was debilitating, and he couldn't remember a thing. He didn't think he drank _that_ much, but the Sith Lord proved to be terribly resistant, far more so than when he had been younger, and while Vos had Kenobi beat when it came to experience, Obi-Wan had done a better job at being coherently drunk. Quinlan had, after all, spent the past few years drinking to dull the pain, doing nothing to keep himself from becoming intoxicated as quickly as possible, and it had obviously taken its toll. At least he wasn't waking up next to some Weequay pirate. He just woke up in a cell, binders attached to his wrists and around his waist, which was, admittedly, not the worst place he had woken up in.

Bleary-eyed, he looked next to him to find Obi-Wan already awake, legs crossed and eyes closed in meditation, hands folded in his lap and binders on his wrists as well. With a groan, the Kiffar sat up next to the Sith and called on the Force to clear away his hangover and the lingering, intoxicated feeling in his body.

"What happened..." he asked, and the Sith Lord just smiled.

"Perhaps the pirate's' reserve was stronger than we expected." Kenobi shrugged. "Or we drank six bottles of the stuff."

" _Six_?! I don't remember past four!"

" _I_ don't remember past..." He stopped, golden eyes opening and looking toward the ceiling. "Kriff, it may have been seven."

"How are we not dead?" Quinlan asked, laughter in his voice as he watched his friend devolve into hapless chuckling.

"You will be..." a deep, menacing voice said from behind them. "Very, _very_ soon. The both of you." They turned slowly, looking over their shoulders to the opposite wall to find Dooku, Count of Serenno, sitting in the corner, his eyes yellow and his face cold, and despite the obvious feeling of the Dark Side surrounding him, Quinlan couldn't help but grin.

"Well, what do you know! It's Darth Bitch! How have you been, friend!" The Count's eyes narrowed dangerously when Obi-Wan's chuckling exploded into raucous laughter, the Kiffar joining him in the absurdity of it all. With a snarl, the Count grabbed at the rope of energy that linked them together by the waist and pulled _hard_ , sending Kenobi to the ground and the Jedi landing on top of him. Still, the laughter didn't stop.

"Are you _quite done_ ," the Count growled, but the laughter continued harder than before, and, glowering, he fell silent.

"You know," Obi-Wan said, breathless between laughing, "I think the deal has changed. As I suspected it would."

"They might have a hard time collecting that ransom from the Republic now that they've turned into kidnappers," Quinlan drawled, getting off the blond Sith and pulling him to his feet.

"Hondo's pretty shrewd, he's trying to triple his payday, obviously. And he'll probably succeed. Two Sith Lords is too much for the Republic or your Council to pass up. Though...you _may_ find this a touch embarrassing for yourself, Quin."

"You _suspected_ this?" Dooku growled, eyes glinting dangerously. "And _still_ you were captured?!"

"Need I remind you that _you_ were captured first," Kenobi drawled, observing the shackles that bound them. They were energy bindings, mild disruptors that sent an irritating buzz through his mind, disturbing his focus. He scoffed. At best, these were a cheap imitator of the much more powerful, much more expensive containment technology that actively suppressed the Force. Closing his eyes, he reached out, touched the Dark Side, and felt it stir. There was a disturbance caused by the bindings, but it was no more debilitating than any other disturbance in the Force. The _problem_ , in his opinion, was the binding around his waist, linking him by an energy rope to Quinlan on his right and Dooku on his left.

"You are hardly one to talk about being captured, _Lumis_ ," the Count growled, and Quinlan looked to his friend with interest.

"Lumis, huh?"

"Kriffing hell, Quinlan, I'm a _Sith Lord_. Of course I have a title!"

The Kiffar smirked. "Lord Lumis, then?"

" _Darth_ Lumis to you, Jedi."

"Oooh, aren't we fancy..." Vos purred, and the Sith lowered his eyelids, drawing closer.

"I expect you to call me that the next time I'm inside you, _pet_ ," Kenobi said, his even voice a smooth, seductive purr, and Quinlan shivered, a sly smirk on his face.

"Oh, _Lumis_ , I'll call you that _any_ time..." The friends doubled over in laughter when they heard Dooku retch.

"You are _children_ ," the Count snarled. "I'm bound together to _children_."

"We can fix that, hold on," Kenobi drawled, reaching his bound hands into his tunic. He frowned, was still for a moment, and then unclipped his belt, letting it drop onto the ground as he took the tunic off his body and shook it, the cloth caught on the manacles. "Oh... _Haar'chak an at haran_ , they took my lightsaber!"

A superior smirk slid across the Count's face. "What value can you possibly have now, Kenobi?"

"Where's _your_ lightsaber, Tyranus?" Obi-Wan said sweetly, and the other Sith glowered.

"It wouldn't have worked anyway. While you were _unconscious_ , I tried to separate us. To no avail," he said slowly, dangerously. "If I have been successful, Kenobi, rest assured, you wouldn't have woken up."

"Well, thank the Force for that, then. You'd _never_ get out if you killed me!"

Dooku rose to his feet to stand towering over the other Sith. "And you find me incapable of breaking out of here on my own?"

"Yes," came the swift reply from both Kenobi and Vos, and, without looking at each other, their hands met in a high five. Dooku's jaw clenched in anger.

"If you haven't gotten out of here yet, it means you aren't capable," Kenobi said, eyes rolling. "Don't play tough with me, you're hardly one to criticize when this entire situation is your fault."

"How _did_ you manage to get captured anyway?" Vos asked, and the Count narrowed his yellow eyes at the Jedi. "The Republic's been trying to capture you for ages, and a bunch of smelly pirates manage to do what hundreds of Jedi can't?" He paused, looking the uptight man over. "...is it the booze? Did you come here to drink? There are _better_ places, you know. This place doesn't exactly come highly recommended because of, you know, the kidnaping..."

"These pirates," Dooku began through grit teeth, "are wily and clever, their leader goes out of his way to make people underestimate him."

"...say, Quin, did _you_ ever underestimate Hondo?"

"No, but I'm a Jedi, we don't have that arrogance thing..." Kenobi gave him a look. "... _what_! Forget about me, did _you_ underestimate him?"

"Not for a second."

"So this isn't a Sith thing. It's just a _stupid_ thing."

"Hey, come on, Quinlan, give him a break..." Obi-Wan drawled smoothly, a hand on his friend's arm. "Dooku's old, he doesn't get out much..."

"Don't talk about me like I'm not _standing right here, Lumis_ ," Dooku snarled, his anger flaring, and the other Sith just shivered in delight when he felt the Dark Side pool around him. "Need I remind you that _you_ were captured as well."

"I wasn't captured, I was _detained_ ," Kenobi insisted. "And besides, they weren't going to let us leave last night, so I figured we'd enjoy ourselves, which we _did_."

"Getting drunk with pirates isn't enjoyable," the Count glowered, sitting back on the ground and putting his hands in his lap.

"Yes it is," Quinlan drawled, draping an arm over Kenobi's shoulder. "This is why you don't have any friends, Dooku."

"Look, allowing them to capture us brought us right to you, Tyranus," Kenobi drawled, wriggling back into his tunic and struggling to get his belt fastened with the binders restricting his movements. "It isn't a conventional escape plan, of course, but it'll have to do, since we don't have our lightsabers."

"This could all have been solved if you just stormed the compound and murdered them all!"

"Oh, _please_ , Dooku, I'm not some butcher. And you aren't worth all that effort." He patted Quinlan on the chest. "I let the Jedi take the lead."

Tyranus gave a long-suffering sigh. "You're _working_ with this Jedi...I had hoped your meeting here was just incidental and you chose to make the best of a bad situation..."

"I _did_ ," the younger Sith growled. "And this happened to be _exactly_ that, but the bad situation, may I remind you, is _you getting captured_." Kenobi smirked. "Now, you just sit there in silence while Quin and I think of a way out of this."

"I would be happy to oblige in that," the Count droned, closing his eyes as he relaxed into a light meditation. Obi-Wan moved as far away from the Count as he could, the energy robe between them taut, and he dropped on the floor, Quinlan following suit a second later.

"So, Kenobi, you've always been the one that came up with the plans," Vos drawled. "What have you got?"

"Well, let's look at the situation. Good things!" he chirped, clapping his hands together. "Good things. We found Dooku, that's good. These binders are an irritation to our focus, not a true block of our connection to the Force. Presumably, the Republic is on the way, that's good. For you."

"Oh yeah..." the Kiffar drawled, placing his hands on the floor behind him and leaning back. "That _is_ good, isn't it? We can just wait here! The Republic will be by with the ransom, we'll get Dooku, and I'll go back home a war hero."

"No, you'll go back home an _idiot_ for being captured by pirates."

"But at least I'll go home!"

Kenobi sighed. "Bad things. You go home humiliated. These pirate bastards have my lightsaber, and I'm not leaving here without it. And, most importantly, with the Republic will come the Jedi." Kenobi's face darkened. "I'm not being captured by them."

Quinlan leaned in, grinning. "My rules, Kenobi, my plan. We wait."

Kenobi shrugged. "Fair enough." He sighed. "Also, we are horribly outnumbered, they all have weapons, none of us have our lightsabers, and while we _do_ have the Force, you're basically deadweight in this matter since you don't want to kill these scum, Jedi..."

"This is the exact dilemma I faced," Dooku drawled, a small smile on his lips, his eyes reverted to their natural brown.

"Look, it doesn't matter," Quinlan said. "We're going to sit here nice and quiet and wait for the Republic."

"You're just going to allow yourself to become a bargaining chip?" Dooku asked, amused. "That doesn't sound at all like the headstrong Quinlan Vos I have heard about."

"Sweetheart, I'm willing to do a lot if it means getting your ass back to Republic space," Vos drawled, flashing an infuriating smirk at the Sith.

Kenobi chuckled, getting to his feet and brushing himself off, and he went to the bars, peering out into the hallway. Two guards were stationed just across from them, blasters in hand and watching the prisoners with amusement. Smirking, Kenobi rubbed his hands together and stretched his fingers. He whistled, and the guards looked right at him. "Hello, boys..." the Sith purred, sticking his hand outside the cell and beaconing for them to come. Slowly, the guards shuffled to the cell.

"Obi-Wan, what are you doing..." Vos said, leaping to his feet and watching those golden eyes narrow in concentration and sinister delight. Even Dooku rose, coming to stand behind his Sith brother. "You said we'd do things my way, you said-"

"To capture Dooku, yes, we would do it your way. _I_ am not included in our arrangement, and I am getting out." He pulled the rope that connected him to the Jedi. "Which means _you_ are getting out." He flashed the Kiffar a bright smile. "Your plan failed the second the pirates threw us in here, Quin. We're doing things my way now."

"It's about time..." Dooku droned, and Kenobi rolled his eyes.

"I believe you promised me silence, Dooku..."

The guards suddenly hit the cell bars with the butt of their rifles, laughing when Kenobi cringed and shot them a vicious glare. "You could promise _us_ silence as well," one of the pirates said, met with the laughter of the other.

"Oh, I will, don't you worry..." Kenobi muttered under his breath, and reaching out with the Force, he said with a low, monotone voice, "You want to let us out."

The pirates froze, their weapons dropping to the ground as their eyes slid out of focus. "We want to let you out," they both said in perfect unison, one reaching for the card key and slipping it into the lock, the steel door opening with a hiss, and Kenobi sighed as he stepped out, followed by his two cell mates.

"And _you_ couldn't have done this, Dooku?" Kenobi growled, his hand tightening as both Weequay rose into the air, silently struggling against the force that held their throat.

"I do not have your talent for mind control, Lumis," he said defensively. "And prior to this, I was held in a _containment field_."

"...they have a containment field?" Kenobi whispered, and the Count nodded, grinning maliciously as the younger Sith's temper flared. "And you couldn't have mentioned this earlier?! Dooku, I'm trying to rescue you! I need to know if this facility has the capacity to _debilitate Force sensitives_!"

"You know now," was the calm, collected response.

"I wonder why they stuck us together like this..." Quinlan mused, flicking Kenobi's ear when the man's hand tightened, and the Weequay began to fall still. It was enough to break his focus, and the pirates dropped unconscious to the ground. "You said you wouldn't use the Dark Side, Obi-Wan!"

"I never said such a thing, I said we'd do it your way, which didn't work, may I remind you."

"Obi-Wan, if the pirates find dead bodies, not only will they have a trail leading right to us, but the entire compound would be on high alert! Do you really think we can escape a hoard of gun-happy pirates while we need to drag the deadweight of old man Darth Bitch behind us? And before you say a _word_ ," the Kiffar growled when it looked like Kenobi would start shouting, "remember that _none of us have lightsabers_. So those blasters they carry? _Fatal_."

A slow smile spread across the Sith's face as he went from angry to amicable. "Very well, I'll accept your logic. We'll do it your way."

Dooku groaned loudly, rubbing his temple with his fingers. "I'd kill you both now, if I didn't have to drag your bodies..."

"Princess, _you_ don't get an opinion," Quinlan drawled. "After all, we wouldn't be in this mess if it wasn't for you."

"We wouldn't be in this mess if you had even an _ounce_ of Jedi temperance," the Count snarled, and Kenobi sighed, rolling his eyes.

"Ladies, _please_. We need to work together if we're going to escape. We don't exactly have a choice in this matter."

"And when we do escape, Lumis..." the Count drawled dangerously. "What then? I don't have a ship."

"I do. Sith hells, the pirates do. The Republic will, but with any luck, we'll be out of here before they arrive. There are lots of ways off this waste of a planet, Dooku." The Count nodded, glaring at Quinlan.

"And the Jedi?"

"The Jedi needs another drink," Quinlan said, sighing heavily. "Working with Sith Lords, what was I thinking..." He walked off toward the door, dragging the two Sith behind him. Sneaking around was what the Kiffar was good at, and tracking things...well, Obi-Wan had said he wouldn't leave without his lightsaber, and Vos believed the young Sith to be reckless enough to sabotage their escape if he thought they may be leaving without it.

Their journey through the compound went smoother than expected. There were ample hiding places, and the pirates had not yet been made aware of their prisoners' escape. When they did happen upon a stray Weequay that noticed them, Obi-Wan's particular Force talents turned out to be exceptionally helpful. He was hardly true to his word about not using the Dark Side, but he didn't leave any of the pirates dead, which was a step up, as far as Vos was concerned.

Finally, the alarms began blaring, and cursing under his breath, Kenobi ducked out of their cover and ran down the halls, the group of pirates he met when he rounded the corner all suddenly lifted into the air and struggling silently, the golden eyes closed in focus. Quinlan ran ahead as far as their bindings would allow, jolting the Sith Lord enough for his focus to slip, teeth gritting in annoyance as he resumed his efforts. A loud, wet snap echoed down the hall when Dooku joined his power to Obi-Wan's, and the pirates hung dead in the air, their necks collectively snapping under the force of the Sith Lords. Quinlan winced.

"Was that _really_ necessary?" the Jedi hissed, striding back quickly to stand before the two Dark Siders, his face contorted in rage.

"If we're lucky, it won't happen again," Kenobi drawled lazily, unconcerned and unmoved, and it only seemed to make Quinlan angrier. How could his old friend use the rage of the Force to end someone's life like that? The Sith pointed to the door Quinlan had gone to look into. "Is that the main hall?" The Jedi nodded, and Kenobi grinned, bringing his finger to his lips to indicate silence as he led them into the hall.

It was dark, but not so dark that the Sith couldn't see. As expected, they found Hondo sitting at his elevated table, the pirate furiously commanding his men to find the escaped prisoners, but what caught their interest was the Kowakian monkey-lizard sitting on the far end of the table, the green tuft of hair on it's head swaying as it's red hands beat together two lightsabers. Kenobi grinned, his yellow eyes gleaming, and he couldn't help but laugh when he reached out with the Force to bring the screaming creature to him, as well as drawing the attention of the pirates. The guards raised their weapons as soon as they were able, but the sabers had already flown to Kenobi's hand, the long, red blade igniting and quickly whipping through the energy ropes that bound them and neatly severing them.

"Oh, what to do, what to do..." Hondo mused, standing slowly and walking around the table, his men surrounding him as he drew closer to the Force sensitives. "I don't _want_ to kill you, you are very valuable, and all that value is gone if you're dead."

Kenobi laughed, tossing Dooku's lightsaber to him and cutting his and Quinlan's bindings. "You'll kill us? Are you serious?"

"Really, that's not a good idea..." Quinlan said, standing close to his friend, reaching out his hand and a blaster from a nearby weapon rack flew to him. Hondo grinned.

"And we were just starting to become _such_ good friends! This is an insult! I shared my home and my drinks with you, and you wouldn't even have the decency to stay in your cell!"

"Is this guy for real?" Quinlan asked Obi-Wan, and the Sith Lord shrugged.

"This is more the sort of scum you are used to being around. I would have thought you to be an expert."

"Well, as you know, being a Jedi Master doesn't exactly mean much."

Obi-Wan smiled. "How right you are..."

The pirates began shooting, Kenobi holding his ground and deflecting the bolts back at the Weequay, and Quinlan crouched behind him, blaster primed and returning the fire as Kenobi defended him. It was... _perfection_ , Quinlan thought. He and Obi-Wan had always been in tandem, and now, they felt closer than ever. He could feel the Sith's focus, the furious intensity in which he absolutely submerged himself in the Force, and when he reached out to feel Kenobi through their connection, he found it the pure energy of it nearly too much to bear. _This_ was the power that the Dark Side had given the fallen Jedi, and it was _beautiful_. Magnificent in it's raw power, stunning to behold. Taking a deep breath, he plunged in, feeling the connection between them flow with the Dark Side, and the Jedi felt his aim sharpen as he struck the pirates with frightening accuracy.

Kenobi grinned when he felt the Jedi's presence in the Force shift, tugging at their connection, slowly at first, and then with greater intensity, drawing additional strength from the Sith and the Dark Side. Obi-Wan chuckled as he deflected a bolt back, the red energy striking the pirate that fired it in the chest. "Hey, Quinlan?" he drawled, looking over his shoulder at his friend and allowing the Force to guide his blade. "Where did you learn to shoot like that?"

"I don't get to use a lightsaber when I'm undercover, Kenobi," the Kiffar drawled, smiling. "It's sort of a dead giveaway." The smile dropped off the Kiffar's face. "Where's Dooku?" Surprise registered on the Sith's face as well, and he turned around to find the Count gone. Vos clenched his teeth in anger. "Damn it..."

"I _told_ you your way wouldn't work, Vos."

With a growl, the Kiffar threw the weapon at the pirates, striking one in the head. "Alright, _stop shooting_!" he cried, putting his hands in the air, and the blaster fire stopped, Hondo lowering his weapon and glaring at the pair. "I surrender!"

"Quinlan, don't be an idiot," Kenobi hissed. "I can get you out of here."

"I know you can, but I've killed too many people today, and if we go now, than maybe we can find Dooku before he gets away!"

Hondo gasped and reeled on his men. "You let Dooku get away! _Again_! Go, find him! Disable the ships so he cannot escape!" The pirates scattered to do as they were bid, and Hondo pointed his weapon at Kenobi and Vos. Smiling, Obi-Wan deactivated his lightsaber, keeping it in his hand and smiling at the pirate.

"Well, sweetheart, I suppose this is the end for us," Kenobi drawled, nudging the Kiffar. "It's such a shame, but I suppose there are worse ways to go than being gunned down by pirates."

"I'm sure we'll go down in legend," Vos quipped. "The Tale of Vos and Kenobi! Star-struck lovers!" Obi-Wan laughed when the pirate groaned, rolling his eyes.

"Yes, yes, I'm sure this is all very amusing..." Hondo droned, waving his hand in the air as if to hurry this tedious process along. "As I said, killing you is bad business. Just get back to your cell, and I may find it in my heart to forgive you. I'm sure you are _nice_ men. Even if you did drink half my reserve..."

Quinlan grinned. "Us Force sensitives sure can drink a lot. Maybe you shouldn't allow that again."

"No, it's easier to drug you..."

"We can sense that as well," Obi-Wan said softly, and the pirate dropped his gun. "I'd rather take my chances with Dooku than deal with you two any longer..."

"We _do_ hear that quite a bit, don't we?"

"Oh yes."

Hondo groaned and dragged his feet toward the main entrance, jumping back suddenly when the heavy doors swung open with more force than it should have been able to, and the tiny thin figure of Ahsoka Tano rushed in, her green lightsaber blazing and humming in the air, her chest rising and falling quickly with hard breathing. Seeing her Master, she grinned brightly and rushed too him, ignoring the Sith Lord at his side when she tackled the Kiffar to the ground.

"Master, I am _so sorry_ ," she shouted, her tiny fists balled into the thick cloth of his robe. "I tried to get here faster, but we met the Separatist fleet on the way, and our ship was captured, and we had to fight our way off a _dreadnaught_." She took a deep breath and smiled. "But I'm here!"

Quinlan groaned as he rose to his feet and grinned at the excitable Padawan. "Did you bring help?"

She nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah. The Republic is sending the ransom for Dooku now, it should be here soon. Where is he?" From out in the yard, they could hear a ship's engine powering on, the high whine as the accelerator was pressed forward, and the roar of the thrusters as it lifted off into the sky. Quinlan groaned and bowed his head.

"How much do you want to bet that was Dooku leaving..."

"It was," came the smooth, satisfied reply, and Ahsoka's eyes shot to the Sith Lord, only just noticing his presence in the room, and with a growl, she drew her lightsaber, the green blade humming. "Careful now, Padawan..." he drawled. "I don't take threats very well, and I consider your lightsaber a threat."

" _As you should_." She put Quinlan's lightsaber into his hand and ignited it for him, catching her own weapon in a backhanded grip and crouching down, ready to move as swiftly as she was able. "It's _over_ Sith." Her eyes widened when she heard her Master's lightsaber switch off.

"Ahsoka, put your weapon away," Quinlan said softly, and the Togruta reeled on him, her blue eyes wide with disbelief.

"Master, he's _Sith_! He's killed Jedi, he's hurt so many more, we have a chance to capture him, and we need to take it! I brought help, we aren't alone in this!"

Obi-Wan felt his chest tighten, the Force screaming in warning before he saw anything, and he made a mad dash for the courtyard, only to skid to a stop and back away when Yoda hobbled into the hall. Kenobi laughed nervously and backed away from the Jedi. "You brought _Yoda_ to deal with me, Padawan?" he asked in disbelief, and the Togruta's eyes seemed to light in triumph. " _How_ did you manage that one?"

"Worth my time, you are..." the Grandmaster said, his three fingered hands folded in front of him. He didn't move from where he stood, but Kenobi could feel the immense power of the Force gather around the little being, shielding him and effectively blocking off the Sith's exit out of the compound. He was trapped, and the Dark Side coiled itself tightly around him, the yellow eyes blazing in the darkness. He was about to thumb his lightsaber on when Quinlan Vos ran to stand between him and Yoda, and Kenobi's yellow eyes narrowed in interest.

"Master, please, you can't hurt him," Vos implored, and the tiny Master smiled gently.

"Harm him, I will not, Master Vos. But capture him, we must." The small smile dropped from the Grandmaster's face when Quinlan's eyes widened in shock, the end of Kenobi's unlit lightsaber pressed hard against his neck, his arm grabbing him tightly around the waist.

"Do I have your attention, Jedi?" the Sith whispered, his voice smooth and low and unspeakably dangerous, and Yoda took a step back when he felt the Dark Side unleash itself from the man's body, a raging storm that made the metal in the compound creak and groan under its weight, the thick iron walls shaking and denting.

Ahsoka growled, her lightsaber poised and she took a step forward. "You won't kill him! He's your friend, he's safe from you!"

"Would you like to test that, Padawan?" Kenobi drawled sweetly, twisting the hilt against the Kiffar's neck, and the Jedi Master hissed in pain. "Be a good girl and turn off your saber." She clenched her jaw in anger, but took a step back and did as she was told, glaring at the Sith Lord as he slowly made his way toward the large entry. "I'm sorry it came to this, Quinlan," he whispered, his long fingered hand digging into the Kiffar's hip, and Vos chuckled.

"This...isn't your doing, Obi-Wan. You're cornered. I'd do the same."

"I know you would...but all the same, you won't help me escape." Quinlan was silent for a moment, uncertain of what the right path was, but slowly, he shook his head. Kenobi sighed sadly, and through the Force, Vos could feel his pain and his anger intensify. The Sith's yellow eyes shot to the stalwart Grandmaster. "I'll kill him if you don't let me through."

Yoda waved a hand, his old face filled with sorrow. "Believe you, I do. But pass, you will not." Kenobi's eyes widened as he looked at the tiny Master.

"What..." Obi-Wan croaked, his voice small and dry in his throat, and he growled and swallowed hard. "You'd let him die to capture me?!"

"The big picture, I see. Survive, the Jedi Order must." Obi-Wan could see the resolve in the Jedi's eyes. Yoda didn't want more Jedi to die, that much was clear, and he wouldn't do anything to harm Quinlan or Ahsoka, but once in the Sith's grasp, Yoda understood that their lives were in the Sith's hands, not his. Or...

Or Yoda was calling his bluff.

Growling in frustration, Kenobi released Quinlan, his arm snaking away from the Kiffar's body and he held out his hand toward the Grandmaster and summoned the Dark Side, and arching bolts of blue electricity shot from his fingertips. Yoda's eyes were wide with shock, his hands flying up before him and managing to just barely block the lightning, his powerful hands absorbing the energy as the Sith Lord growled, intensifying the power of the electricity as he clipped his saber on his belt. He reached his hand up to the large steel doors when he had passed through them and pulled them down, the metal creaking and groaning as it twisted and was hurled into the compound toward the Grandmaster. The metal screeched and sparked as it was forced through the entryway, getting lodged in the thick support beams, and the compound, already under strain, began to shake. Obi-Wan didn't look behind him as he ran for his ship, the groaning roar of breaking metal heralding the pirate compound's collapse.

By the time he made it to his ship, Kenobi was out of breath and drained, the demands he had placed on the Force taking its toll from his body, and he collapsed into the pilot's chair, just managing to put in the coordinates for Mustafar into the autopilot and lifting off the ground and heading toward open space. He could barely keep his eyes open when the ship's com turned on by its own accord, the hooded hologram of Sidious before him, and Kenobi didn't have the strength to give the Master any recognition.

Sidious' cruel lips curled into the approximation of a smile. "Perhaps Dooku's capture wasn't quite the failure I expected, if you are doing so poorly."

Obi-Wan only managed to snarl one word. " _Yoda_."

The smirk dropped off the Sith Master's face. "Come to Coruscant," he demanded softly. "I have felt you through the Force, Lumis, and I am...disturbed." The com cut, and Sidious' tone brokered no argument. With shaking hands, Kenobi put in the coordinates for Coruscant, engaged the hyperdrive, and surrendered himself to the Force.


	45. Insidious

He rarely had guests in the shrine. The cold, dank, and dark room was hardly fit for housing the living, but more importantly, there were very few alive who were worthy of gazing upon it. He had never called Maul to this sacred place, nor Tyranus. No, Tyranus was punished for his failure in a warehouse deep in the lower levels of Coruscant, where anguished cries and pleads for help fell on the deaf ears of a people with far too many problems of their own to get involved. This shrine was for him, and him alone, until very recently, when he had invited Lumis to share in the thrill of the Dark Side, a nexus so powerful that he had hoped it would drown Lumis, allow his rage to surface, allow him to arise as something new and far more dangerous. But it didn't happen. Lumis was different. Lumis was... _special_ , which is why Sidious had taken him in to begin with. It may be that this shrine would only ever be seen by him and young Lumis, and one other, perhaps, if that avenue played out as he had intended.

Darth Lumis was so deeply entrenched within the Force, it was difficult to see where he ended and the Force began, and with his embrace of the Dark Side, it became even harder to tell, so difficult, in fact, that the distinction between his will and the will of the Force was beginning to blur. It was making the boy's mind clouded, difficult to see, and it displeased Sidious as much as it fascinated him. Once, it was true that the Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi had been a rare talent, powerful in the Force with a potential to become one of the greatest Jedi of the Order. That was swiftly crushed when Anakin Skywalker had entered the picture, a boy so brimming with the Force that he was considered a vergence, a thing so rare and so potentially powerful that he was in position to becoming one of the greatest Jedi of all time. Skywalker had come at exactly the right time for the Sith, for the exceptional career of the Jedi Kenobi ended when he realized that he would live in the shadow of a boy unfit to train, no matter how diligent he was, and regardless of his own potential, the Jedi cast him aside in favor of something stronger.

Imbued with the Dark Side, Lumis became his own Force nexus, though Sidious would never tell him so, and his potential became limitless. However, there were certain problems with the boy's training, and now, at long last, those problems were being resolved. Since the beginning of the Sith, their power was derived from ambition, not from loyalty, and in this sense, Lumis was lacking. Maul had wanted to kill Sidious, and it had made the apprentice stronger. Dooku wanted to kill him as well, and it had also made the fallen Jedi strong. But Lumis... _accepted_. Everything Sidious could think to throw at him, every torture he visited upon his body and mind, every new torment he could imagine, Lumis had endured it with calm and patience and gratitude. Like a _Jedi_. The loyalty was welcome, yes, but it was also repulsive, and while Sidious held his dear apprentice close, he also reviled him for this weakness.

Sidious had given the boy a long leash, allowed him to do as he pleased, for the most part, occasionally giving the boy tasks he considered near impossible in hopes of sparking the raw fury of the Dark Side, but instead, he found the assignments quickly completed. The Dark Side simply refused to forge the Jedi into Sith, no matter how hard he pressed. It was why he allowed Lumis to torment the extremely necessary Tyranus, in hopes of sparking a rivalry that would lead the boy to murder his competitor. It was why he had allowed him to keep the Mandalorian he had treasured as a Jedi, for one day, she may spark the flames that would drive him to greatness. It was why he had given Lumis a holocron, far before he was ready to handle such a power, in the hopes that the whispers of the Sith Lords of Old would spark a yearning for Mastery.

Sidious had felt it only a few days earlier. The change in his apprentice had shifted the Force, disturbed the Dark Side in such a way that Sidious could feel the cool, black, inky waters of the Dark Side swirl and rend and grow into vicious storms. It was time to call him back to this shrine. It was time to see the measure of the Sith he was, and the Sith he would be.

Lumis had come to him a shell of what he was, his body weary from a powerful manipulation of the Force, his mind weak from diverting so much attention to maintaining careful control. Sidious had broken him nearly instantly, his body weak, his defenses shattered, and for the first time, the Master looked on in sinister delight as the Dark Side, in all its raw, primal glory, grasped Lumis in its claws and made him an instrument of its will. He was strong enough to fight the tide, of course, powerful enough to cull the wrathful beast into submission, and as he did, he could feel the Dark Side thrashing against him, could see murder in his apprentice's golden eyes, could sense the burning desire to strike the Master down and reign as Lord of the Sith. Young Lumis was in no position to control this incredible power, not yet. But he would be, and when he was finally in control, Sidious knew that the Dark Side would belong to Lumis, and the apprentice's loyalty would return, the snarling beast caged by a being too powerful to break away from. Lumis' will would overshadow the will of the Force, and the boy would no longer be swayed to murder without cause, would no longer be slave to the passionate outcries of freedom from his Master. Each action he took would be planned, deliberate, just as Sidious' actions were.

A soft groan echoed around the walls of the cavern, and Sidious' pale yellow eyes fell on the body on the ground, the black boots scraping on the cold, unyielding stone, his back arching as he struggled to breathe, the golden eyes distant as the Force took him, filling his mind with a rush of visions. Sidious reached out with the Force to plunge into Lumis' unguarded mind, and the man hardly seemed to notice his Master's touch within him. He hadn't noticed for _days_. Sidious had torn the boy's mind apart, trying to find the cause of his murderous intent, but like Lumis himself, the cause was wrapped up in the will of the Force.

The tipping point, it seemed, had come from an argument with his lover, but the cause had come from somewhere else entirely. He had reached out to grasp the reason, only to find the Force itself repel him, a bright, shining point in the Sith Lord's mind that Sidious was unable to see, unable to touch, and completely unable to compel into divulging its secrets. This was no secret of Lumis, no hidden thing he willingly kept from his Master. Lumis lay open to him, his defenses hopelessly shattered, his mind ravaged and raped of anything and everything that held interest to the Sith Master. No, _this_ was something the Force itself was hiding from the Sith Master, and Sidious couldn't help but feel that the Force may have been striking back against him for a transgression he may have committed, or _will_ commit.

Surrounding this untouchable thing, Sidious could see the shadows of beasts, the distinguishable armor of clones, the bodies of dead Jedi, the form of the woman Lumis loved, and through it all, he could hear the whispers of Ancient Sith, just loud enough for Sidious to hear the language, but too quiet to hear the words. Sidious wielded dominion over the powers of the Dark Side, and that this power did not yield to him could only mean one of two things. The Force was guarding Lumis, or the Dark Side within the fallen Jedi was as stubborn as the boy it served.

In the nexus of Dark Side energy, with his mind so painfully exposed, Lumis suffered persistent and repeating visions in between his periods of consciousness, and Sidious made certain he was present for all of them. They were vague, yes, but over time, they would become more clear. The visions flitted between the field of dead Jedi, the shadows of two that remained in the carnage, the sinister face of Darth Maul, a boy Sidious assumed was Lumis' progeny, a Jedi and a Sith locked in battle on a world on fire, and at the end of every vision was the face in flames, burning and screaming and shifting and completely unrecognizable. There were others as well, _many_ others, but they were less clear, shifting more often, changing as the vision progressed. For a brief moment, Sidious had caught a glimpse of what appeared to be his own death, a bright green lightsaber in the hands of the one who caused it, a vision that he himself had never received, and it solidified his need to keep Lumis by his side as an ally. With patience, Sidious would discern the meaning and avoid this, compelling the Force away from this outcome, but he'd need Lumis to do it.

With a sharp intake of breath, Lumis began to breathe regularly again, his hazy gold eyes focusing as the Force returned him. He didn't move, but Sidious could feel the Dark Side immediately rush to his apprentice, the Force raging and snarling as it defended the fallen Sith. There was no control, no restraint, and those golden eyes burned with hatred and anger.

"Do you want to kill me, Lumis?"

Kenobi tensed, snarling in rage and muscles tensing as he fought for control, and Sidious delighted in the struggle. When he finally answered it was almost is if the Force responded with a deep, smooth, " _Yes_."

The Master nodded. "Have I told you about my Master, Plagueis?" Lumis nodded his head, closing his eyes tightly and swallowing hard, shaking in an effort to regain control of himself. Perhaps this time, he would succeed before Sidious broke him again. "In my formative years as a Sith," Sidious began, "my Master tortured me, threw me into the sea of the Dark Side and hoped I'd drown. He told me the Dark Side would kill me, only to resurrect me as Sith. The Dark Side, he said, is drawn to those who lust for power, and go to any lengths to obtain it. It was true for me. It was true for Maul and Dooku, and now, it is true for you as well."

Lumis' eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched so tightly it was painful. "I have endured your torture before, _Master_."

"And not once have you desired to kill me, despite my best efforts."

"You... _want_ me to kill you?"

Sidious laughed, cold and harsh. "No. You cannot anyway. But the _desire_ to murder the Master is intrinsic to the Sith. My power fuels your envy, my wisdom fuels your desire to learn, All I have done will make you crave for what I have accomplished. _That_ is what will make you powerful in the Dark Side, and it is that which will make you worthy of the name of Sith Lord. If you do not lust for what I have, than you will _stagnate._ There are limits upon you, Lumis, if you do not feel the burning desire to be the Lord of the Sith."

"I do, _I want it_!"

"I know..." Sidious purred, his voice low and soothing. "I can feel it within you. I feel your desire to rule, to dominate, to subjugate. But you still have _much_ to learn," he said sharply, sending a new wave of pain through the boy that shattered the defenses he had managed to rebuild, leaving him to collapse upon the ground, the Dark Side howling in rage, but Lumis was unmoving, his golden eyes sharp and clear and focused on Sidious.

"All of this, Plagueis taught to me very early on, but I was naturally ambitions, naturally a killer. Most unlike you. He said he would elevate me as high as he could, he would become my torturer to see me rise to his heights, and then, together, we would break the dynamic that Darth Bane had set into motion. We would need each other in the new Sith Order we would create. The Bane line ended when my Master killed his Master, you see."

Lumis sucked in a harsh breath and slowly let it out, control slowly reestablishing itself. "He was wrong..." he quietly choked.

Sidious grinned. "He was. He never imagined that _I_ would kill him. No longer did the apprentice need to be more powerful, just more clever, and I was _both_. You, Lumis, are neither." The hatred swelled, and once again, Sidious brought the force of his will crashing into the apprentice's mind, the hapless man whimpering softly, not in pain, but in resignation. He no longer could feel the pain. "I am the culmination of the Sith Initiative, Lumis. The Jedi will end with me, and our revenge will be complete. I have seen your visions, and you have seen this as well Do you deny this?"

"...no, Master..."

"And so the line of Bane ends with _me_. Plagueis was right about a great many things, my apprentice, but he was wrong about _who_ would rule the galaxy. His time was too late, but he readied me to take power. With me, the thousand years of Sith secrecy, suspicion, and betrayal will end. We have broken the Rule of Two, Lumis. We simply must break the rest to form a new galactic order. When the Empire rises, there will be no further need for the ways of the Ancient Sith. We will need each other, Lumis, to fulfill the destiny of the Sith."

Lumis's shuddered, his breath catching in his chest as he gasped, the golden eyes wide and sightlessly darting back and forth as the Force took him once again. Sidious knelt beside him and roughly grabbed the blond hair, his presence entering Lumis' mind with no complaint, no resistance. The visions were more of the same, except for the image of a young Republic officer with sharp, severe features, his hands outstretched to hold a small representation of a beautiful planet which promptly faded to dust. Sidious frowned, withdrawing from the boy's mind. Usually, the Force would send visions that had some meaning to the individual, but while Sidious knew this officer, Kenobi had never met him. Could the Dark Side be using Lumis as a conduit to show Sidious visions that pertained to himself? And if so, why not just give them to him directly? He was no stranger to Force visions, had used them to carefully navigate his way to see the visions bear fruit, or work to alter an unfavorable outcome. So what was the meaning of _this_?

Lumis would require a cautious taming, now that the Dark Side had turned its gaze upon him. But if Sidious could cull that violent temper, teach Lumis to exert his full control over the overwhelming powers of the Dark Side, what a ferocious ally he would make in his new world. Maul had failed to control the Dark Side, and he had died for it. Dooku had the control, but he was little more than a place holder. But Lumis was young, strong, inherently loyal and resilient with so much potential. Sidious was no fool. He had learned from the mistakes of Plagueis, knew that trust and loyalty were difficult for the Sith, and especially perilous for the Lord of the Sith. He needed Lumis to trust him, hone is murderous intent into a weapon that could be directed elsewhere, but the trust could never go both ways. Lumis' awakening, his desires and ambitions were necessary. The timing was just inconvenient. But if he could succeed in taming Lumis, ensuring his infinite power, his endless loyalty, than perhaps he would have no need of Anakin Skywalker.

When the Force gave Lumis back, Sidious' hand was in his hair, not grabbing, but gently stroking, and while the Dark Side growled its objection, Obi-Wan craved the soothing, easy touch. He was no stranger to pain and suffering, not anymore, but he had always been mentally strong. His Master wasn't the one who had broken him. His was simply the final push. Obi-Wan had been wrecked by the Dark Side, though he couldn't begin to imagine why he suddenly drew it in like a vortex. Before, his relationship with the Dark Side was like digging a tributary off of a mighty river. But now, the river had changed corse, diverted to wash right over him, and he was left to attempt to dam it.

"What is it you want, Lumis?" Sidious had asked softly, and the Sith Lord shook.

"...a great many things, Master."

"Such as?"

Kenobi closed his eyes, his focus returning as he slowly began to pick up the pieces of his defense. He needed his control back, and he needed it before the Force or his Master decided to simply break them again. "I want power, Master."

"You have power."

"I want _more_ ," he growled, and Sidious chuckled.

"You cannot handle the power that has been drawn to you. Power is simply a means to an end, a necessary component in our ultimate goal. You are out of control, a slave to the whims of the Dark Side."

"Then I need control, I want control."

Sidious nodded. "I can teach that to you, my apprentice. You have the rage and the hatred, and now we must _hone_ it, so we may point the full power of the Dark Side at our enemies." Sidious stood, the golden eyes of his apprentice looking up at him. "Ten years it took for me to fully master the control of the Dark Side, and Plagueis considered me gifted. You are still a fair ways from the time I spent learning. I forget you have not been Sith for long."

"I...forget as well, Master..." Lumis laughed weakly. "Perhaps that's where my...frustrations are coming from."

"They come from your relation with the Force," Sidious snarled, watching as Lumis pushed himself up to his knees. "You are one with the Dark Side, Lumis, but not the way you should be. You treat the Force as a companion, but it is a _tool_ to be used. Jedi call upon the Force for help. _We_ cull it into submission and make it serve us."

Obi-Wan could feel his chest tighten, the feel of the Force itself objecting, the Dark Side rising up and hissing its displeasure at the Sith Lord. _The Force bites back_ , Kenobi thought. _But it doesn't bite me_. "I disagree, Master," Lumis whispered, and Sidious scoffed, peering down at him with disgust.

"As you would. Is that the Force you are giving voice to, or is it your own will? If you are not able to bind the Force to your will, you will be a _slave_ to it!" Sidious lashed out again with the Dark Side, entering Lumis' mind to shatter his defenses, but this time, they did not break. This time, the Force seemed to grab his ethereal hand in a crushing grasp and held him in place, shooting pain through the Force bond they shared and lancing Sidious with agony. His yellow eyes grew wide with the pain as he looked down at his apprentice, Lumis' own gold eyes blank and distant but narrowed in anger and trained right on the Sith Master, seeming to look right through him.

With a pained snarl, Sidious extended his hand, lightning leaping from his fingers to strike the young Sith, and while Lumis' presence left his mind, the boy did not seem to react to the pain in the least. The Master drew away, felt Lumis' considerable Force presence, and felt it calmed, the Dark Side drawn to him not only to feed on the rage and the pain, but to support and heal him. He would need to remain cautious of Lumis in the future, and his loyalty needed to be ensured _now_. Killing him briefly crossed Sidious' mind, but he quickly rejected the idea. His apprentice was far too useful to simply discard, and certainly not because he did not yet fully understand the nature of the power that gripped the young Sith. Still, caution must be observed while he tamed Lumis. The Force, clearly, was willing to strike out against the Lord of the Sith over the matter of Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Sidious watched as Lumis slowly calmed, bringing his being under control, building his mental walls. Once, for a moment, he trembled, the Force gripping him with visions, but Lumis had the strength to brush them aside, and, groaning, rose to his feet. Sidious couldn't help but grin with delight. " _Good_ , my apprentice...the Force is your strength. With powers like yours, you and I will be able to shape the future."

"...is that what you want, Master?"

"Among other things, yes." He reached out to sense the younger Sith's feelings and found him to be uncertain, confused, struggling with his control of the Dark Side, attempting to separate where his own will ended, and the will of the Dark Side bled through. "This began after your murder of the Jedi," Sidious said, and Lumis nodded.

"Perhaps before that, Master. When I had the idea to murder Jedi. It... _gripped_ me, and it wouldn't let go."

"What brought this about, I wonder?" Sidious drawled, probing slightly to see if Obi-Wan himself could access that Force protected piece of his mind. If he did, Lumis showed no indication of it.

"I don't know, Master. Perhaps..." He bit his lip and looked away. "Perhaps it is simply being in this war."

"The war has drawn the Dark Side out, yes. Perhaps." Sidious crossed his arms. This wasn't it. Lumis was grasping at straws. "Dooku told me you have been displeased with your involvement. He says you begged him to send you to Ryloth." The Master's eyes were narrowed in anger, and Kenobi swallowed hard and looked away, all his previous rage toward his Master diverting to a fury aimed at Dooku. They had an _agreement_.

"I did say that to him, Master." Kenobi said slowly. "But...I am uncertain if that was my will. I was... _gripped_ at the time."

"So you do not want to be sent to Ryloth?"

"It may not be prudent, Master. We...should observe what the Jedi do, now that I have stood against Yoda."

Sidious grinned when he felt the Force shift within his apprentice, away from mindless rage and toward the cold, detached logic he had possessed in such abundance before his instability. "The Jedi Temple is right above us. Can you sense them?"

Lumis closed his eyes and breathed deeply, Sidious watching as the focus brought the apprentice further into control. He may have been approaching Lumis in the wrong manner. He was not Sidious, nor did Lumis have his temperament, his natural desire to kill, something Plagueis had to work hard at tempering and controlling. Nor was he Maul, the wrathful beast that needed to have his rage curbed and forged into a weapon, which he never fully succeeded in doing. Lumis was...unique. Wherever the desire to murder his Master had come from, it was beyond Sidious' reach, and it was, in any case, necessary to stoke his powers. Now that Lumis gripped the Dark Side with the hands of a master, he needed to be reeled in.

"I can feel them, Master," he said softly. "They are...conflicted. Again."

Sidious nodded. "I will use that when I see them tomorrow. I want you to decide your own involvement in the war."

Golden eyes shot to Sidious, and the Master smirked when the Sith cautiously said, "Do you mean that?"

"I will send you on assignments, of course, but you have proven your worth, Darth Lumis. You may choose your own battles in the conflict, if you remain patient and diligent." Sidious took a step toward the Sith Lord. "I trust you to do what is best."

"I won't fail you, Master," Kenobi said gently, kneeling before the Lord of the Sith, the Dark Side purring in satisfaction. The Master's hand slid into his blond hair, and Kenobi sighed. He hadn't been with his Master since he delivered the holocrons before his battle on Haruun Kal, but the trip had been very short, and he had been praised for his efforts from a distance. He felt foolish for his weakness, for turning on the Master that had taken him in after the Jedi had left him to die. He would not forget this loyalty again, not when his Master needed him most. Not when he only stood to benefit from his Master's rise to power. Not when he could rule the galaxy at his side. Not when he still had so much to learn.

_Not so long as Sidious had use to him._

"Will you go to Ryloth?" Sidious asked, and Lumis shook his head.

"I'll go to Mandalore. I have something to fix there."

Sidious smirked, slipping into his apprentice's mind with ease, the man allowing him unrestricted access, but the Force was not so kind. He had no more access to the protected space in his mind than he did before. The Master had hoped that it would have faded when Lumis was controlled and relaxed, but there were some things that were beyond even the Lord of the Sith. But not for long. Sidious was patient. He would wait. "Is Satine a problem?"

" _No_ , but..." Kenobi bit his lip, and the Sith Lord frowned, feeling the passion roll off the man. He was undisputably in love, and like the Jedi, the Sith had no use for the emotion, its compassion leading to weakness more often than not. However, in this case, he was willing to make an exception and encourage this. Obi-Wan Kenobi did not fall for love, and Darth Lumis wouldn't suddenly turn from his course for it. If anything, this had focused him in his quest for power, and if it came down to it...the loss of love was a powerful motivator for keeping someone on the dark path.

"More trouble than she's worth?" he offered, and the younger Sith laughed.

"Trouble, yes, but worth it." The golden eyes hardened and he looked up at his Master. "That's what I want," Kenobi said, his voice low and hungry. "I want to rule the Outer Rim. From Mustafar to Mandalore, I want it to be mine, and I want her beside me." The hand in his hair tightened, but he didn't show any indication of the pain he felt.

"This galaxy is _mine_ , Lumis."

"And you think to rule it all by yourself?" Lumis scoffed. "The Core worlds, sure. Your reach may even extend to the colonies, but the Outer Rim?" He whistled. "That's a huge territory, Master, even for a Sith Lord. You're going to need sector governors and overseers that report to you on Coruscant." He grinned wickedly. "Why not instead have me rule in the Outer Rim for you? Two Sith Lords can maintain direct control over a larger area than just one. The Clone Wars will leave them broken and yearning for guidance, and if we don't give it to them, they will become problematic. But if _I_ rule..."

"I see your point, Lumis," he drawled, nodding. His ambitions were large, yes, but they fit in exactly with his plans. Even better, Lumis didn't seem to have ambitions that put him into conflict with Sidious, not yet. His entire emotional upheaval could possibly be solved in an instant, and it was rooted firmly in a desire to be with a woman. If Lumis did not have this to center him, focus his rage, than the young Sith could be _very_ difficult to control. "I will take this into consideration." Lumis bowed his head, sighing as Sidious' fist unclenched, the knobby fingers resuming their stroking. "And Satine figures into this _how_?"

Kenobi shrugged. "I would have her by my side, Master. We have talked about starting a new Sith Empire, yes? Someone must propagate the future of it."

Sidious laughed at that. "You would make a new line of Sith? Your children would surely be strong in the Force."

"And all of which would be instructed in the Dark Side."

Sidious eyed him cautiously. "And _you_ would train all these gifted children?"

"Or you, Master, if one possessed the desired talent."

Sidious leaned down, golden eyes meeting. "You would give your children to me?"

"Of course," he said without hesitation. "This is about a legacy, Master. The Sith will not survive without the best instruction for those that will be our future."

Sidious touched his apprentice's forehead, sensing his longing, his yearning, his hate and his rage, but also his loyalty, which, at least for now, was guaranteed. "Begin immediately," he said softly. "This war will not last forever, and you have done nothing if not throw the Jedi into chaos. Within a few years, the Empire will rise, and the new Sith Order will begin. You will want your child ready for instruction by then."

Lumis grinned wickedly, and the Master could feel desire and yearning seep into the boy. "I will do as I can to serve you in this manner, Master."

"Your training is not yet complete, Lumis You are far from it. But in my Empire, you and I shall be... _partners_. For the strength and unity of the Sith, if we are to endure, we must be united in our dedication to the Dark Side."

Lumis didn't answer. The Dark Side did it for him. It was drawn to him in a rush of emotions, brimming with passion and desire and yearning, fueled by anger at his betrayal, wrath at the weakened state of the galaxy, and a craving for power that permeated deep within him. The lust for power was enduring in the Sith, but loyalty was not, and while Sidious could feel it from his student, he knew that he would have to remain vigilant if he were to keep it. The anger, the rage would have to be directed elsewhere, lest Lumis turn his ambitions higher. It shouldn't be a problem. The Sith would always have enemies, those that were simply rotting, decaying presences to the forces that drove to create order, and they must be cut away and destroyed if the Empire were to flourish. In this task, Lumis was a masterwork.

Now, all that remained was to break through the forces that guarded his apprentice and teach the boy how to coax the Force into giving him clear visions. Lumis' gift of foresight seemed to be greater than his own, and such a talent would be necessary in order to properly take steps to ensure certain outcomes came to pass, and certain outcomes did not. Sidious slowly came to sit in front of the other Sith, closing his eyes as he reached through the Force to the apprentice's troubled and turbulent mind.

"You and I have not meditated together for some time."

"...no, Master. Not since the beginning."

"We must make sense of your visions, Lumis. All of them. Show me, and I will teach you how to control and influence the world around you to change the outcome."

Lumis looked at his Master skeptically. "Do we have such power?"

Sidious grinned. "We are Sith, Darth Lumis. We have as much power as we are willing to take."


	46. Saboteur

They were talking about him _again_. Like they always did. Quinlan Vos was sick of it. It was always the same thing from the same people, over and over, around and around, until Quinlan thought he'd get dizzy and vomit over each and every member of the Council. Except for Luminara. Despite her constant rejections, she was still hot. And Qui-Gon. He didn't deserve it. But Kit Fisto did. Kit Fisto would be puked on first. And last.

Things had actually changed a lot, but Quinlan wasn't sharing. What would be the point? Everything he had to say conflicted with what Grandmaster Yoda saw, and who would believe Vos over Yoda? Qui-Gon might, but noone else. The other Masters were saying that Kenobi had corrupted him anyway, so there was little point in going into detail about what had happened. Yoda had told his account of Kenobi's fearsome power, the ability conjure Sith Lightning and bring down an entire fortress with a storm of the Dark Side, and the Masters all agreed that Obi-Wan needed to die. Not only was he showing powers that most of the Jedi could not hope to achieve, let alone best, but he had debilitated some of the greatest fighters the Jedi had, and managed to escape even Yoda's powerful command of the Force. The Jedi Order was actively under attack, and it came in the form of Obi-Wan Kenobi's carefully undermining everything they did.

When Kit Fisto began to speak, Quinlan lost his mind. He didn't even dislike the Nautolan, he was actually quite fond of the Master, but he _did_ have his scaly, webbed hands on Aayla Secura, and Vos felt he needed to defend the girl, especially since it would be the absolute last thing she wanted. Unfortunately, these days, the only chance he got to do that was at Council meetings.

"Kit, _honestly_ , you meet Obi-Wan _one time_ , he gives you a haircut, and now you're suddenly an expert on him!" Quinlan scoffed, grinning with delight when the Nautolan looked speechless. "I bet you didn't even _pay_ him for it!"

"And you are an expert, Vos?" Fisto asked, laughter in his voice. "Your attachment is clouding your vision, you so desperately want him to return to his old self that you fail to see what he's become. Everyone agrees!"

" _I_ don't!" Quinlan growled. "I just spent a day with him, and I'm telling you this. Obi-Wan can be _reasoned with_."

"He's a mind controller, Vos..."

"Yeah, but he wasn't doing it to me!"

Fisto laughed. "And how could you possibly know that?" The Kiffar leaned in toward him.

"Because he's _been_ in my mind before, and believe me, you can feel him there. This time, we just _talked_. He only became hostile when the lightsabers came out and were pointed toward him! He was _trapped_ , you can't blame him for fighting back!"

Kit groaned. "He took you hostage, he would have killed you!"

"No, he wouldn't have! I knew him! I _still_ know him, it was just like old times with him! He's... _changed_ , yes, but he's still Obi-Wan Kenobi. If we go to him without hostility, if we just go to him to _talk_...I think we can reason with him, he will listen to reason."

"How do you know this?" Luminara asked, and Vos couldn't repress the smile on his face. For the first time that day, a Jedi spoke to him in a tone that wasn't accusing or dismissive. Luminara actually wanted to know.

"Because I reasoned with him." She said nothing, and Quinlan sighed. He had hoped that would be explanation enough, but it apparently wasn't. "I met him on my way to see if the pirates had Dooku, and I managed to convince him to do it my way. He didn't mind control or kill anybody until he was being _attacked_. And remember this, _I_ didn't have a lightsaber on me. He could have killed me at any time, if he was so inclined. He could have killed them all."

"And he didn't try to sway you to him?" she asked, and for a moment, Quinlan just stared at her, considering if he should answer the question honestly or not.

"...no, he did try," he finally whispered. "But he didn't try for long. When he saw I resisted, he dropped the subject."

Mace scoffed. "That doesn't make him reasonable, it makes him dangerous."

"He _is_ reasonable, Mace, I _reasoned_ with him! Being a seductive beast has nothing to do with that!" He grinned. "And he was _always_ seductive..."

"The Jedi Order will not have dealings with Sith Lords!"

"Are we going to do this again..." Qui-Gon droned, his hand covering his eyes and sighing. "Because if we are, I'd like to change the subject." He fished a holodisc out of his robes and held it up. When the Masters looked at him like he was disrupting proceedings, Jinn frowned. "...what? Obi-Wan Kenobi isn't the only part of this war, Masters. He's actually shown himself to be a very, very small part of it."

" _Small_?!" Mace growled, his hands clutching the arms of his seat, and Qui-Gon just rolled his eyes.

"Geonosis," he drawled, counting off on his fingers. "Christophsis. Haruun Kal" He held up three long digits. "Three conflicts in this war he's been a part of. Out of _hundreds_. We've been at this for a long time now, and we see more of Asajj Ventress and General Grievous than we do of him. Obi-Wan has killed four Jedi. Ventress and Grievous have killed _far_ more. So _yes_ , Mace, in spite of your broken pride, Obi-Wan is a very small piece in the war." He sat back and ran a hand through his long, graying hair. "His effect on the Jedi Order is another matter entirely, but there's nothing we can do about that but bolster ourselves against the damage he is doing. We have a plan already. Turn Obi-Wan against his Sith Master. Quinlan can do it. Luminara can do it. Master Yoda can handle him. The rest of us just need to back off and live to fight the actual war until this is accomplished." He took a deep breath. "So can we _please_ talk about the _war now_?"

Quinlan laid a large hand on the older Master's shoulders and pointed at his chest. "Can we all agree to line up after the meeting so we can each fellate this beautiful man? Except for you, Master Plo. Your mask gets in the way."

"That's really not necessary," Qui-Gon whispered, the tips of his ears turning red as he activated the holodisc, the blue projection of a soldier running and shooting over his shoulder, his armor in the distinctive style of the Mandalorian warriors. Qui-Gon felt tension in his fellow Masters. "This is a recording of one of the recent strings of attacks on Republic cruisers. We believe them to be Separatist saboteurs, but-"

"But it could be that the Mandalorains are taking sides against the Republic!" Mace growled. "I _told_ you this would happen! Obi-Wan is influencing the Duchess, he-"

" _This has nothing to do with him_!" Qui-Gon snapped, much louder and more intense than he had meant. "Mace, if you see Sith everywhere, they will _be_ everywhere. It's true that Obi-Wan has a long reach, but there are things about him that we know that can help us determine where he actually is, and what he's actually doing."

"I agree," Vos drawled, crossing his arms and legs. "Obi-Wan hasn't messed with Mandalore, we decided this last time. He's been with this woman since he left us, if he was messing around in her brain, I think it would be mush by now."

"Satine isn't influenced," Qui-Gon said softly. "And her Mandalorians are pacifists, so who is _that_ , and what's he doing in Mandalorian armor?"

"The Senate believes this man is part of a secret Mandalorian army that the Duchess is building," Luminara said softly. "They believe she will fight for the Separatists, given the nature of these attacks."

"Obi-Wan wouldn't do this," Qui-Gon said softly. "Nor would Satine. I don't believe she could even be made to do this with the Force, it goes against her very nature. I think her brain would _literally_ start to bleed before she ever abandoned her pacifist ways. She's suffered too much for her to even consider it."

"So...does Obi-Wan's interests line up with the Separatists?" Luminara asked. "Or are they beginning to diverge? If this is a Separatist plot to make the Republic stand against the Mandalorians, than I feel like Obi-Wan may object."

"Which could make him easier to sway," Quinlan said, rubbing his hands together and grinning deviously.

"This could just as easily be the Mandalorians themselves," Qui-Gon said firmly, tucking the holodisc back inside his robe. "Satine made a lot of enemies after she took the throne and abandoned their warrior culture. Those that would not accept peace were exiled to Concordia, and it seems very likely that they may be reemerging. Galactic war makes it an ideal time."

Quinlan whistled. "Obi-Wan's going to be pissed. I say we let him handle it."

"We can't just let the Sith solve our problems," Luminara droned, rolling her eyes. "If he _is_ somehow involved, or has been _reasoned_ with to allow this to happen, than we would simply allow the situation to become worse."

"It's going to get worse anyway," Qui-Gon said swiftly. "As I said before, Obi-Wan's involvement is inconsequential. This is bad for Mandalore. If the Republic accuses her, then the Separatists may be given a hold there. If she denies the claims, which she will, since she is no doubt innocent, than the Senate may vote to send troops to Mandalore to help keep the peace, which will undermine the Duchess and give her enemies a reason to stand against her." Qui-Gon sighed. "Make no mistake, Satine will want nothing to do with either side of this conflict, and all this does is make us look like we want to interfere in Mandalorian affairs."

Luminara nodded. "That does sound like something the Senate would do, yes."

"So we basically need to kiss our asses goodbye," Quinlan drawled, drumming his long fingers on the tattoo upon his cheek. "The second the Republic messes with Mandalore, Kenobi's going to war." He smiled. "This is your chance to make Obi-Wan a huge deal, Mace!"

Windu groaned. "Do you ever stop, Master Vos..."

"Not to the present date, no."

"We can fix this very easily," Qui-Gon said. "We don't wait for the Senate to make a decision. I'll go to Mandalore and ask her about it myself. The investigation will be ordered by the Jedi, not the Republic, which will give us a chance to solve this before it escalates to sending Mandalore unwanted military aid."

"I don't know, Qui-Gon, I really don't think Obi-Wan's going to like it if you touch his things..." Vos said. "I mean, Mandalore's sort of his home, isn't it? And he _really_ hates that Padawan of yours."

"I'm not going to bring Anakin, and I'm the best choice for this job. Satine knows me and she trusts me. She's always been... _difficult_ , and I think I'll have a better chance of stopping this before it escalates than anyone."

"I'm not babysitting your Padawan, Master Jinn," Quinlan drawled, and Qui-Gon smirked softly.

"No. But _your_ Padawan is going to. I've already talked to Ahsoka about keeping an eye on him while I'm gone, and I think it will do Anakin some good to get out from under my wing."

"Oh yeah? And what am I supposed to do with _two_ Padawans?!"

Qui-Gon shrugged. "I was called to the battle on Ryloth. The _Resolute_ is leaving tomorrow morning, I thought you could go in my place."

"I'm also being dispatched to Ryloth," Luminara said softly, her blue eyes looking at the older Master with concern. "So who is going with you?"

"Nobody."

Luminara's eyes narrowed. "That's a terrible idea. If Obi-Wan is there, and it's _very_ likely he will be-"

"Obi-Wan won't hurt me in front of Satine," Qui-Gon said quickly. "If I'm walking into something that's even close to what I'm imagining, than I'll be safe. Obi-Wan's going to have bigger problems than me."

"Qui-Gon, sweetheart, he _hates you_ ," Vos said slowly, as if he were speaking to someone that didn't understand the language he was speaking. "If he had a list of Jedi he wants to kill, and I suspect that he does, than you are right at the very top next to Skywalker."

"I'm aware, Quinlan, thank you..." He crossed his arms. "I am capable of defending myself, and the Duchess absolutely abhors violence. You said he can be reasoned with, Quinlan, and I'm inclined to believe you."

"Hey, you know," the Kiffar drawled lazily, addressing the other Masters "I know it's easier to let Luminara, Qui-Gon and I solve _all_ the problems of the galaxy, but any time any of you want to jump in and _actually help_ , that would be _great_."

"A plan, you have, Qui-Gon?" Yoda asked in his soft, raspy voice, and Qui-Gon nodded.

"A plan, I have."

Yoda waved his small hand in the air. "Go. May the Force be with you."

Nodding, Qui-Gon Jinn rose from his seat and bowed, his long brown cloak flowing behind him as he swiftly left the room. "Well," the Kiffar drawled, "when I asked for help, I didn't mean _that_."

"Trust in Qui-Gon, you must," Yoda gently reprimanded. "A rare chance, he has, to see his fallen Padawan. Reasonable, you say he is."

"Well, _yes_ , but he's also _Sith_. He's-"

"I agree with Master Yoda," Luminara said softly and Vos rolled his eyes.

"Not you too..."

"You say that Obi-Wan was like you remember him, Quinlan. I know he hates Qui-Gon, you and I have discussed this before. But if you're right, and our Obi-Wan is still in there, than Qui-Gon may have found the only situation where he can get through to him."

"Yes, but-"

"You wanted to set Obi-Wan after the Lord of the Sith, and we have our chance now to see if that's even possible. We need to trust Qui-Gon."

Quinlan sighed and rose to his feet and bowed to the Masters. "I'm out. I can't do this, and I have a battle to prepare for. Ahsoka will be _thrilled_."

He was just about to leave when the small voice of Yoda whispered "Wait." The Kiffar froze. "Faced Obi-Wan, I did. Different, he is, from the last time. Stronger." Yoda frowned. " _Much_ stronger, he is. A vergence in the Force, he has become." The other Masters began whispering softly among themselves, and Luminara rose to stand beside Quinlan.

"That bad?" he asked her, smiling softly, and she nodded.

"Anakin is one as well. It can't be a coincidence that one vergence in the Force begot another. Obi-Wan...had said that the current of the Force has changed. I thought he was trying to sway me, but..."

"You think he's right?" Luminara bit her lip and slowly nodded, said nothing when Quinlan gently took her hand in his.

"What are we supposed to do about that?" Mace asked quietly. "We've thrown everything we've got at him. We can't beat him in combat."

Yoda closed his eyes and was silent for a long while, his little hand clenching, the palm still blackened from absorbing the Sith's attack. "Under attack, the Jedi Order is. Sacrifice, we must make, to survive. New things, we must try. Unafraid of change, we must be. Trust Qui-Gon, we must. With him, the Force is."

* * *

Anakin was trying very, _very_ hard not to look at the smug face of Ahsoka Tano. Seated across the table from him in Qui-Gon's spacious sitting room, her elbows were perched on the sleek surface, her fingers interlocked, and her pointed chin resting delicately on top of it, those big blue eyes looking as though she knew something that he didn't, which of course wasn't true. None the less, what she _did_ know was something that Skywalker had desperately wished that she didn't, but she and Barriss were close, and Tano had a particular talent for getting the Mirialan to divulge things that should have been secret. Girls, it seemed, liked to _gossip_.

He made the mistake of sending a fleeting glance up from his studies, and his eyes met Ahsoka's, a slow, wicked grin spreading across her face, and Anakin couldn't help but groan. "So, _Skyguy_ ," the Togruta purred. "I hear you've been having trouble with your _girlfriend_."

"For the last time, Snips, she's a girl, and she's a friend, but she isn't my _girlfriend_."

She shrugged her thin shoulders. "That isn't what Master Quinlan says. Master Quinlan says you see her every time you return to the Temple. _He_ says-"

"Your Master says a lot of things..." he growled. The only thing worse than Quinlan's delight in starting rumors was that he had a Padawan that took equal delight in spreading them.

"Yeah, but he's usually right," the Togruta said. "He was right about Master Fisto and Master Secura. He said-"

"I know what he said!" Anakin sighed, shooting a quick, withering glare to his right when Barriss began choking with repressed laughter. "But that's just it, he _said_ it. Do you honestly believe everything he tells you?"

"I have no reason to doubt him. And he's right about those two," she drawled, leaning in and leering at him. "He _felt them_. In the Force. He trained Master Secura, he'd know!"

"And Master Secura, like a _good Jedi_ , severed that connection when she was given her knighthood."

"Oh." The Togruta relented, leaning back in her chair, and Anakin eyed her suspiciously. Ahsoka still looked... _devious_. "Well, he's right about your girlfriend."

" _Kriffing Sith Hells, Padmé isn't my girlfriend_!"

"Anger isn't the way of the Jedi," Ahsoka said in a superior tone, and Barriss devolved into helpless laughter. Skywalker shook his head. He wasn't going to get any work done. He'd leave, but he rather be there to manage the conversation, fearful of what Ahsoka might say to his Mirialan friend. "Besides," the Togruta shrugged. "Qui-Gon came to see Quinlan late last night."

This time, Anakin arched an eyebrow, looking at her curiously. "Oh, did he?"

"Yeah, you'd know it if you were in the Temple." Skywalker's ears burned when he realized he walked right into that one, the Togruta sitting with a triumphant smirk on her orange and white face. "He said he _felt_ you. In the Force." She grinned. "And since you're his Padawan...well, that Force bond is _very_ much alive, isn't it?"

Anakin's head hit the table, partly in an expression of frustration, but mostly to hide the deep red flush that had come to his face. It was true that he had gone to see Padmé the night before, the young Senator having just returned from her mission to Rodia, her incredible success in the capture of Nute Gunray, and the subsequent failure of his escape. He hadn't planned on anything happening, he was just terribly, terribly worried for her. After all, the _Tranquility_ was attacked by Obi-Wan, and Padmé had struggled with an attraction to the man that Anakin had deduced was the work of Sith manipulation preying on the Senator's past desires. He simply wanted to make certain that the Sith hadn't entered her mind again.

What he found in her apartment was a _very_ angry Senator Amidala, the woman furiously pacing the length of her apartment and arguing with herself. Like before, Anakin had sensed lust within her, strong and overwhelming, but this time, there was also anger and confusion. This wasn't the debilitating madness of induced lust, this was a woman struggling with desires that she knew were both wrong in every way and all she ever wanted. Anakin barely had to talk to her at all before his old friend came unhinged, raging about what Obi-Wan had done aboard the ship, how he had undermined her entire mission to Rodia by taking the Viceroy right out from under her, how he had slaughtered dozens of clones, and he still had the gall to come to her room and ask for peace.

Not only that, but clever Kenobi had also managed to rekindle Padmé's emotions, and despite how far he had fallen, despite how bad it would be for a Republic Senator to find herself in scandal with one of the Separatist's top agents, Senator Amidala found herself craving and wanting him, and she hated herself for her weakness, and hated him for inciting it. Furthermore, she had found herself thinking of Anakin more often than not, when her mind was at peace, and though the Jedi remained careful and cautious around her, Padmé was a woman of passion, and she threw herself headlong into everything she did. Anakin's arrival was fortunate, because it gave the Senator a way to both punish Obi-Wan for all he was doing to her, and to satisfy her own desires with a boy that may have been actually good for her.

To his credit, Anakin resisted her for a short time, sensing that her mind was elsewhere, that her passion and lust was driven by the menacing Sith Lord, but unlike before, this desire was one of her own making. There was no echoing of Sith influence, no dark touch upon her mind. Just a girl who was ragingly aroused by a bad boy, and who craved the touch of someone gentler, someone better for her. He did give in, and while Anakin did let his desires take him away, he also stayed careful and cautious, as much as he was able to, in any case. His Master had warned him about the dangers surrounding a relationship, cautioned him how jealousy is in part what made Obi-Wan fall, and Anakin took the lessons to heart. Padmé was confused, conflicted, her attentions divided between a war and a broken Senate and her own needs as a human, so Skywalker resigned himself to attending to one of these needs, knowing that when the war was over, they may start something better. The Order was changing. Maybe this would too.

Of course, none of this would save him from the ferocious teasing his friends were putting him through now.

"Your Master _really_ shouldn't be talking about this stuff..." Anakin mumbled, his voice muffled by the table his face lay upon. He lifted his head and took a deep breath. "And I'm trying to plan for a _war_. You should be helping, you're going to Ryloth too."

"I don't trust your plans, Skyguy. Master Quinlan says you're impulsive."

"... _Master Vos says that?!_ " Anakin nearly shouted, aghast. "He says _I'm_ impulsive _?!"_

"You are impulsive, Anakin," Barriss said softly. "Like your Master."

"Master Qui-Gon isn't impulsive, he's _mindful_ of the present!" The doors of the room hissed open, and the Padawans' three Masters strode in, the Padawans leaping to their feet, but the Masters hardly noticed. Quinlan and Luminara were arguing, and Qui-Gon was silently ignoring them.

"Anakin!" the Kiffar snapped, and Skywalker stood at attention, his body tense and readying himself to defend his honor against the devious Master. But instead, Vos' feelings were turbulent and worried, not light and mischievous like usual. "Anakin, tell your Master that he can't throw his life away!"

Qui-Gon reeled on the other Master before Anakin had a chance to say a thing. "I have said this a hundred times already, Quinlan, I am _not_ afraid of Obi-Wan."

"Wait," _Obi-Wan_?" Anakin said, breathless, his chest tightening. "Master, you aren't going after Obi-Wan, are you?"

"No."

" _Yes_ ," Quinlan snapped.

"I am managing a problem on Mandalore," Jinn calmly explained. "The Duchess Satine and I have worked closely together before. She trusts me, and I'm in the best position to solve the problem without involving the Republic, which would help keep the Neutral Systems out of the war."

"...Master," Anakin said expressionlessly. "Isn't Duchess Satine the one that Obi-Wan-"

"Yes, _yes_ , thank you, Skywalker!" Vos said swiftly, reeling again on the older Master. "You might be going for Mandalore, but you're going to be messing with Obi-Wan's things! I spent two days with him recently, and trust me, you _don't_ want to touch that boy's things!"

Qui-Gon rolled his eyes. "You speculated that Obi-Wan created Mandalore as something of a safe haven. A neutral Mandalore is of no use to the Sith. Given their history, it's actually counterproductive to their designs to keep Satine in power. This is a vanity project, can we agree on that?"

"That's almost a certainty," Luminara said, crossing her arms. "I don't object to you going-"

" _I_ do!"

"But," she said firmly, ignoring Quinlan, "I object to you going alone. If Kenobi fights-"

"He won't!" Qui-Gon gave a long-suffering sigh, and turned to his concerned Padawan. "I would care for your opinion on this matter, Anakin." Biting his lip, Skywalker nodded, but said nothing. "Satine is a _very_ difficult woman that responds very poorly to those that use violence to solve problems, and she likely views the war as exactly that. Since Jedi are Generals now, I doubt she will take kindly to us, but she knows me, and I know how to talk to her."

"If she dislikes violence, how can she be with a Sith Lord?"

Qui-Gon looked away for a moment. "I don't know. It's likely she doesn't know the full extent of what he is, but..." He sighed. "Love can blind us to these things, and it can make us overlook even the greatest transgressions to keep it. It's also _very_ likely that he's the only one she's ever been with, so there's a greater incentive to keep him close."

Anakin smiled slyly. "Mm, must be true love. Master Vos, you should write a book about it." He extended his hand in the air. "Pacifist Mandalorian Queen in love with a Lord of the Sith! It's _terribly_ romantic."

"...Skywalker, you might be on to something." Quinlan gasped. "I could make a _fortune_!"

Qui-Gon softly smiled. "You may joke, but it may be that their opposing natures is what keeps them together." He took a deep breath and released it slowly. "So when I go to Mandalore, I'm almost certain to run into my old student."

"...Quinlan's right, Master, this is a bad idea."

"If we let this situation be, or we send the wrong Jedi, than the Republic will be drawn to Mandalore to protect their pacifist Duchess from the Separatists, and Satine _won't_ want that, which will leave us with an entirely different set of problems. We will have Obi-Wan's wrath pointed _directly_ at the Republic. He already feels betrayed by the Jedi, do you think we want him angered by the Republic as well?"

"Does it matter?" Ahsoka asked. "He's already a Separatist."

"A Separatist who has spent a great deal of this war not fighting," Qui-Gon cautioned. "If we spark his rage, than he will be _everywhere_. I don't know if we could manage that."

"Are you going to Mandalore to confront Obi-Wan, Master?" Anakin asked softly, and Qui-Gon shook his head.

"I'm going to keep Mandalore uninvolved so we don't need to deal with an angry Sith. Quinlan seems to think Obi-Wan can be reasoned with."

Vos rolled his eyes indignantly. "He _can_ be reasoned with, I keep telling you!"

"Which makes this even more necessary. I'm going to solve a problem for Satine, which will put me on Obi-Wan's side. Can you deny that?"

"Will he take it that way?" Luminara asked. "A Sith is ruled by passions."

"And from everything we've seen, we know that he's _not_ a typical Sith." Qui-Gon smiled. "The Force is guiding me to Mandalore. I can feel it." Jinn regarded Anakin, his noble face calm and relaxed. "Once, the Force guided me to you, Anakin, and I lost my Padawan for it. Perhaps it seeks to reunite me with him now."

"He might kill you, Master," Skywalker said firmly. "Maybe he doesn't care what Satine thinks. Maybe he doesn't love her like we think he does. Maybe he's conquered her mind and she won't care if he kills you."

"Maybe so," Jinn whispered, a small smile on his face. "But I don't fear death. There is only the Force, and if it comes to that..." He closed his eyes. "The Force is not done with me, Anakin. Trust me on this."

"Qui-Gon," Luminara whispered. "Your studies won't save you from the wrath of the Sith."

"I disagree. I am a Jedi, and we have a power that the Sith do not."

Skywalker held his breath, his lungs burning when he held it for as long as he could and slowly, he nodded. "I wish I could go with you, but...well, he might lose his mind." He drew up to his full height, still nearly a full head shorter than Qui-Gon. "I trust you, Master. Please be careful. I don't know what I'd so if I lost you, and we need to talk about Padmé."

Qui-Gon sighed heavily. "I know, I _felt it_." Anakin flushed deeply and tried to hide into the folds of his robes, the Master rubbing his temples. "Honestly, I don't know why you Padawans never think we feel it, we _always_ feel it..."

"I apologize, Master..."

"No, don't. I told you, these feelings are natural, the Jedi don't expect you to _not_ have physical desires. You aren't even expected to refrain entirely, some species require this for their physical well-being..."

Quinlan winked at the blushing Padawan. "Humans included."

"Are you practicing the meditation techniques we have gone over to help you manage your emotions?" Anakin nodded, and Qui-Gon lay a large hand on his student's shoulder. "We will talk when I return. Good hunting on Ryloth."

Anakin smiled. "Be careful on Mandalore, Master. I've no doubt you'll succeed."

Quinlan groaned loudly and dropped into a chair around the table, reaching into his robe and drawing out a flask that he took a long drink from. "Honestly, what is the galaxy coming to when I'm the reasonable one..."


	47. Discord

Pleasing Satine was proving to be... _complicated_. More than he could have possibly imagined. As it turned out, she wasn't at all pleased by the prospects of killing his Master, and she was even less pleased by the Sith Master himself drawing Kenobi away from the middle of their domestic spat to rescue Dooku from pirates. A few days away on Coruscant in his broken, uncontrolled state, and Obi-Wan returned to a Satine that had several days to get so worked up and angry over her lover's disappearance that she barred him completely from the bed they so often shared. At first, he was impressed by the woman's passion and rage, the Dark Side drinking deeply from it and drawing Kenobi to her, if for nothing else, to syphon off the wrath that fueled his own.

But now, he was beginning to grow impatient. He had been calm and placating, doing all in his power short of using the Force to calm the woman, ease her back into an amicable state, but to no avail. His Satine was stubborn, and she would not be swayed by smooth talk and kind words. She was too smart for that, and for a woman that led her people with a policy of negotiation and non-violence, she was certainly keen on _not_ talking to Obi-Wan.

The temptation to go into her mind and absolutely ravage it into complete obedience was strong for only a short time. Meditating on the idea made him realize just how much he wanted _her_ , not simply the idea of her, which he hadn't been confronted with before. They had seen each other so infrequently because of his training that their brief encounters were spent exhausting the passion between them in order to sate themselves until their next encounter. Now, they saw each other nearly daily, and they were beginning to settle into a partnership. Satine wasn't simply an object of lust, she was a powerful woman in her own right, a passionate lover, and an advantageous ally.

Sidious had to foster friends and allies and connections as Palpatine, all without use of the Force, so often managing to bring difficult allies under his sway by simply being clever and reasonable, giving them what they wanted in the short term so he could achieve his long term goals. Obi-Wan needed to do the same. The future of the Sith wasn't in brute force, his Master had said, but in political machinations. Mandalore was important in this respect, and Kenobi was driven to bring his Satine back into a partnership with him. He would need her if he wanted to rule an Empire, create a legacy, build an enduring Sith Order. Not to mention that the Mandalorians would never, _ever_ accept the rule of an outsider, and they were a people that had once banded together to aid in the destruction of the Sith. Pacifist or no, the warrior spirit of the Mandalorians could not be tamed, and if really pushed, they would rise again to do battle with the Sith.

Like Satine was doing _right now_.

Kenobi paced the sitting room of the Duchess' personal quarters, one of the three Jedi holocrons that he possessed in his hands. He needed patience, he needed calm, he needed control, and to do that, he needed the _kriffing holocron to open_. A deep growl rumbled in his chest, his hands tightly gripping the blue cube and channeling the Force through it, but to no avail. The holocron stayed dull and tightly closed, and it took every ounce of Kenobi's will to not throw it through a window. The other two Jedi holocrons were no different. He sighed, throwing himself onto the couch and holding the cube up. His Master had promised to teach him how to master the Dark Side, but Obi-Wan needed to know now. Despite his tremendous power, he felt unbalanced, and he was plagued by visions, not just at night when he attempted to sleep, but during his waking hours as well, if the Force deemed it necessary. It wasn't debilitating, as it had been on Coruscant, but it was a distraction, and while he did appreciate the foresight, if it were to happen during battle, the slip in focus could result in his death, or worse, his capture.

He turned his head when he heard shouting coming from behind the door on the far side of the room, leading to Satine's personal conference room, which she used when the Mandalorian ruling body was in session. For hours, the Duchess had been in heated debate with the Rodian leadership. The planet had been a mess since the beginning of the war, and now, it seemed as if they wished to withdraw from politics and join the Neutral Systems. The arrangement seemed to be rife with problems, though Obi-Wan had difficulty understanding why. From what he understood, both parties had wanted the same thing. These problems wouldn't exist when he brought the systems of the galaxy under the mantle of the Empire. There simply wouldn't be room for this sort of debate.

Kenobi fished the comlink out of his robes when he felt the disc vibrate as it beeped, and he set the holotransceiver on his stomach and activated the device, the hologram displaying the saluting form of Clone Commander Cody, his helmet tucked under his arm. "How's Ryloth?" the Sith lazily asked, and the clone beamed.

"I'm sorry you're missing it, sir. You'd like it here. The rancors like it here."

"I hope they don't like it _too_ much, or they're going to be difficult to drag back home."

"That already looks to be a problem. They've gorged themselves."

Kenobi groaned. "Are you overfeeding my pets? They become less effective if they are _sleeping_ , Cody. And the Force knows they sleep after meals..."

The clone looked deadpan at the Sith. "And who do you suppose is going to get between those beasts and their food?"

"I do."

" _We_ don't have the Force. And speaking of..." A cocky grin spread across the clone's face when he held up a lightsaber, and Kenobi narrowed his eyes, shot up on the couch when he didn't recognize the weapon. " _I_ killed a _Jedi_."

" _You_?"

"Well...Ghost Company and I." Cody shrugged and ignited the weapon, the blade humming and causing the hologram to exhibit slight interference. "He wasn't expecting his clones to turn on him."

"You aren't his clones."

"No..." Cody, twirled the weapon around his hand, and Obi-Wan felt himself fill with pride. He'd been training the clone in lightsaber combat when he demonstrated excellence in both the Force Pike and the electrostaff. Some clones were simply superior, and Cody was showing a talent that others simply didn't have. He may have been designed to be closer to the original specimen than the others in his clone batch in order to designate him for command. "We killed his clones and stole their armor."

"Did you recognize him?"

"No, sir. I don't believe you would have either. But his clones called him General."

Kenobi whistled. "That would have made him a Master." The Sith grinned. "Well done. Cody! I trust you will keep the lightsaber then?"

"I had hoped to, sir, yes."

"It's yours. Don't go too crazy with it, Cody. We'll continue your training when I return, just be careful. You may be good, but you'll never equal a Force sensitive when it comes to the lightsaber." The clone nodded, saluting as he did so. "Any other news?"

"We've destroyed two Republic Star Destroyers, the _Defender_ and the _Redeemer_ , and we have captured the capital city of Lessu." Cody deactivated the lightsaber and clipped it to his armor. "Emir Tambor is... _difficult_. He's sending the droids to pillage the Twi'lek homes for things of value."

Kenobi scoffed. "As if they Twi'lek's have anything of value. What is the point in that? The only things of value on Ryloth are spice and the Twi'lek's themselves, they make _perfect_ slaves." The Sith Lord laughed softly. "Better to ride the storm than defeat it, so the Twi'lek saying goes. Their temperament makes them ideal for servitude."

"Yes, my men have been seeing plenty of that. Ride the storm indeed, they have been _seducing_ my men."

"I bet they have." Kenobi took a deep breath, looked to the door when he heard more shouting. "I'm bothered by Tambor's actions. The Twi'lek's may be ideal slaves, but even slaves revolt."

"Shall we put an end to him?"

"No..." Kenobi said slowly. "Tell him that Obi-Wan Kenobi disapproves of abusing our resources. If he doesn't comply, destroy his droids, call for reenforcements that answer to your command and imprison him on the _Liberator_. A little time next to Master Koth may remind him of what I can do to those that defy me." Kenobi frowned. "The Republic certainly won't stand for this, not if Tambor is creating a problem because he's an idiot."

"His actions have caused even some of the Twi'lek's to rebel. Some have organized into a resistance group that is working with the Republic forces to liberate their home world. They've managed to secure aid shipments from the Senate, so yes, I'd say the Republic is invested in success here on Ryloth."

"Hmm..." Obi-Wan steepled his fingers and brought them to his lips. He _could_ crush Ryloth, but it seemed very likely that the Republic would send their very best to secure the struggling planet, especially after Tambor had managed to make enemies of the native population. "Have you infiltrated the Republic ranks?"

"Yes, sir."

"And what have we heard?"

"Waxer says that two more Star Destroyers are incoming, the _Tranquility_ and the _Resolute_."

"Luminara and Qui-Gon..." the Sith growled, closing his eyes and centering in the Force for guidance. "Expect no less than four more Jedi to Ryloth. Luminara Unduli, Barris Offee, Qui-Gon Jinn and Anakin Skywalker."

Cody frowned. "Jinn and Skywalker have been victorious in nearly every battle they participate in. I'd say it was luck, but those boys are just _good_."

"The Force is with them, of course they are good..." He tapped his finger on his cheek as he ran through the multitude of ways this situation could be handled, but the Force dragging his attention elsewhere. "It may be worthwhile to withdraw from Ryloth."

"Sir, we can win if you-"

"No, something doesn't feel right..." Kenobi whispered, biting his lip and looking away from the clone. "There's something wrong, something..." He shook his head. "Let Tambor throw his full might against the Jedi. We lose nothing by losing droids, but I won't have Skywalker murder my clones. Withdraw your men before they get there, and when you pull out, bring the Twi'leks. I believe they can be of use to me."

Cody grinned. "They're proving to be of use to my men as well."

"You know, Cody, if your men were in want of pleasure slaves, you only needed to ask."

"That's an admittedly awkward thing to discuss with your commanding officer, my Lord."

Kenobi rolled his eyes. " _Yes_ , but I'm also your friend. Enslave the population, pull out, and return to Mustafar. I imagine I will be making my way back there soon."

"Things sorted out with the Mandalorian?"

" _Hardly_ ," he growled, and Cody laughed heartily. "It isn't funny, Cody."

"With all due respect, sir, it _really_ is."

"I have _other_ matters to attend to besides Satine Kryze," he growled between clenched teeth. "If she is going to be stubborn, I have plenty of other paths I need to take." He gripped the holocron tightly in his hand. "Like unlocking this thing. I need to capture a new Jedi."

"Any Jedi, sir?"

"Any Jedi would suffice, but this isn't a matter of _convenience_ , Cody." He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, reaching into the Force and summoning the vision of the field of dead Jedi and the two that stood among them. This was important. He could _feel_ it. "Every action we take must further our future goals. The Jedi I want must be able to open the holocron, provide me with suitable practice, shake the faith in the Jedi _and_ damage the Republic's effectiveness." Surrounding himself with the Force, the answer became clear. "Find and locate Jedi Master Shaak Ti. She will serve my purposes. You'll be looking for a female Togruta."

Cody smirked. "Are you looking to keep a pleasure slave for yourself, my Lord?"

"Hardly," the Sith scoffed, his golden eyes darting to the door when it opened and the Duchess strolled in. "I've no interest in such things. I've had a vision that leads me to believe that a Togruta female may be important."

"And you think she's the one?"

"I don't know, Cody, but that particular list is a short one, and she is by far the most dangerous of them. Find her."

"It will be done, sir," the clone said, saluting.

"I need to go. How long do you suppose it will take you to withdraw from Ryloth?" he asked, rising to his feet and watching Satine as she walked to stand behind an armchair, grasping the back of it with her delicate hands.

"A few days, at most. The problem will be getting Tambor to do as you asked."

"Remember what I said about him. I'm willing to surrender the planet to cull that Skakoan, and I need to make Dooku remember how miserable I can make him if he crosses me. Which he _has_."

Cody laughed, but all Kenobi could look at was the deep frown and narrowed eyes of Satine Kryze. "I'll have it done, my Lord. I'll see you on Mustafar." The hologram flicked off as the com cut, and Obi-Wan tucked the device back into his robes, avoiding Satine's piercing glare.

"You _are_ quite the General now, aren't you, Obi-Wan?"

"Someone needs to be..."

She glared at him. "That mentality is exactly the problem, this is why talks have failed."

" _No_ , talks failed because there is no easy solution to this problem."

"Of course there isn't an easy solution! But simply going to war over it is unacceptable! This war is an affront to life itself!"

Kenobi groaned. "Did you not just hear me order my troops to withdraw? And lest you forget, _love_ , I fought for peace and negotiations even after the war began!"

"And now you are a _warrior_!" Her hands clenched on the back of the seat. "You sat there and talked about making people _suffer_!"

"To ease further suffering!" he cried, groaning as he dropped back to the couch. "Wat Tambor is a self-indulgent, disgusting waste with no regard for sentient life at all. He is, in short, a monster on a Separatist payroll, and you want to _defend him_?"

"I'm not defending him, I'm decrying _your_ actions! Since when have you been a man to make _excuses_!"

Kenobi ran a hand down his face. "I can't do this, not again. We disagree on the war, we have always done so, and we will talk circles around each other for _days_ on this matter and make no headway at all. I'm trying to fight for peace."

"Fight for peace?" She laughed without mirth. "What an amusing contradiction."

"And I will continue to do so, despite your objection! _This_ isn't what's keeping us apart, Satine!" Obi-Wan watched her hold her breath, her feelings shifting to passionate and angry to uncertain and pained. "Can we _please_ put aside politics, they are making the situation worse."

Her eyes narrowed dangerously, her pale skin flushed with anger as she quickly became indignant, and Obi-Wan winced. No matter what, it never seemed to be the right thing to say. "This is _exactly_ what's keeping us apart!" she cried. "If you were a Jedi, you would be a peacekeeper!"

"The _Jedi_ ," he growled, " _aren't_ peacekeepers in this war, they are _generals_. Were I still a Jedi, we would be having this exact same conflict because you seem to fail to understand that the greatest ally of peace is the power to utterly annihilate any threat that may arise!"

"If you were still a Jedi, we wouldn't be having this trouble at all because you wouldn't have _messed with my mind_! We wouldn't even be together because of that cold Code they follow!"

"And you should be _grateful_ I left, Satine! I left for _you_."

The Duchess laughed loudly. "Do you honestly think I believe you would leave the Jedi for _me_? You were never so inclined, you left them to further your own powers because the Jedi constricted you!" Kenobi grit his teeth, his hand balling into a fist as his muscles screamed with tension. She was right, of course, and he felt immediately foolish for thinking for a moment that Satine would believe he would abandon his values for love. She certainly wouldn't, so why should he?

"If you think," he began again more calmly than before, "that I haven't sacrificed so that I may be with you-"

" _You haven't_ ," she hissed. "You have everything you can possibly want. You have power and influence and people that adore you, and I have overlooked how cruel you have become, how violent your precious Force has made you."

"I suffered for all of that!" Kenobi shouted, rising to his feet, grasping at the Force in his fury, and the woman across from him withdrew slightly upon seeing the rage build within him, but it was only for a moment, and she quickly returned his wrathful gaze.

"And I objected to that as well! I never wanted you to suffer at the hands of a cruel Master, I never wanted you to suffer at all. You have endured so much pain, Obi-Wan, when is it time for it to end? When are you going to leave the Sith?!"

"I'm _not_ going to, I am Sith at heart, just as you are Mandalorian, we cannot escape the truths of our natures!"

"Only I have _changed_ Mandalore! We aren't the warriors we once were!"

Kenobi laughed harshly. "Oh, _yes you are_. Satine, as much as you want to deny it, you are just as Mandalorian as the greatest of your historical Mand'alors! That you have exchanged the sword for words as your weapon of choice is incidental, you are a _warrior_."

"And so we have _changed_! When will you change the Sith!"

"When I am Lord of the Sith, I-"

" _Lord of the Sith_..." she said smoothly, her voice dripping with contempt, and Kenobi couldn't help but shiver. "I told you, violence isn't the answer, I don't want you to kill him!"

"Fine, I won't," Obi-Wan said in satisfaction, a cocky smirk on his face. "Are you pleased now?"

" _No_."

"I suspect you will never be pleased."

"I will be pleased when you leave that Master of yours."

"Alright, _fine_." His golden eyes narrowed. "I'll leave the Sith. But _you_ must renounce your claim to Mandalore." _That_ had the intended effect, and the woman drew back, shock and disbelief on her angular face.

"You want me to just abandon my duty? You know I cannot!"

"Of course you can! You are asking the exact same thing of me!"

" _It's not the same_!"

" _It is_!" the Sith snarled, much more angry and aggressive than he had intended. "My duty and my loyalty is to the Sith, as yours is to the people of Mandalore! You and I have always put our duty before all else. You don't get to decide that mine is less than yours just because you don't like what I must do! Consider this, Satine, not _once_ have I attempted to sway you or your systems to my side because I know how important your neutrality is to you!"

"Maybe so," she said softly, looking away for a moment before furious blue eyes locked with the Sith's. "But _you_ swayed _me_."

"I said I was sorry..."

"It isn't enough!"

Obi-Wan sighed, running a hand through his sandy blond hair. This was the heart of the issue, finally, and it felt good to be away from the mess of politics and obligation. "I want you to consider something for me, Satine." When her eyes narrowed, he put up his hands as if in surrender. "There is a point to this, I swear it." Obi-Wan held his breath when she didn't move at all, but the fact that she didn't respond or argue seemed like a positive. Slowly, she inclined her head, so slightly it was barely perceivable. "Consider for a moment that you discovered that _you_ could manipulate the Force. That you had a connection to that which binds us all together."

"You are diverting away from the point."

"I am not! You are not _letting me talk_." Her eyes narrowed, but Satine was silent. " _Then_ ," Kenobi continued softly, "you found out that your particular talent with the Force was being... _distressingly_ convincing. Through the Force, you could make anyone believe anything, for a time, and if you exerted your influence often enough, those beliefs could become permanent."

"You're discounting a person's free will! That is _deplorable_."

"And yet you, _my love_ , favor no side but your own. What we do is the same thing, only I am more effective." He could see her jaw clench, could feel her tension through the Force, but still she listened. It was an improvement. "Now, I want you to imagine what you could do with that kind of power. What if you could just walk into the Senate and tell them that the war was wrong, and they'd all believe it. What if you could simply command the Confederacy to call off their battle droids, and they would obey. What if, Satine, you could force galactic peace in the matter of _minutes_ , if only you just put those powers to use. Would you do it?"

"...it can't be that simple."

"But it is. With the right tools and the right power, the galaxy could be peaceful. You could exert your pacifist will on any who opposed you, any who looked to create strife and conflict, and they would be _instantly_ complacent. You could do it to _me_. You could tell me to leave the Sith, and without question, I would obey." Satine bit her lip and looked away, and through the Force, Kenobi could feel her anger give way to temptation.

"...no," she finally whispered. "No, that defeats the purpose of what we have, Obi-Wan..."

"I know it does, which is why I haven't done it more than once."

"But you _did it_."

"In a moment of weakness, yes..." He sighed. "There is always temptation with the Dark Side. Learning to temper that is a part of our training."

"Which is why you need to _leave_."

"Which is why I can't," he insisted. "I have much to learn from my Master."

"So you will endure more torture?!"

"To assume control, to ensure your safety, _yes._ I do not fear pain, Satine."

The Duchess scoffed. "You fear so little. Have you abandoned your plans to kill him, then?"

"For the moment..." he drawled, taking a furtive step closer, but the woman took an equal step back. "We will be partners moving forwards."

"And yet he is your Master."

"For now."

"You are not _partners_ if you call him Master, Obi-Wan! You clearly still have motivation to kill him. Are you stronger?"

"Not yet..."

"Then _how_. How do you suppose to do this thing?!" Kenobi groaned and gripped his head. The Force was...disturbed. Something was happening, something...

"I told you, when I have learned all I can, he and I will be partners. Killing him will not be a necessity when we are on equal footing."

"Killing him should not be necessary _ever_! Obi-Wan, this Master of yours, or the Force, or the Sith, they have _corrupted_ you! You used to be a man committed to peace! You claim to be a negotiator, and yet you say you can't leave!"

Kenobi grit his teeth and held his breath, tuning out the Force as it screamed within him. "Allow me to explain something, Satine. You may sit here with your policy of non-violence, but that isn't how this galaxy works! People like you, who are unwilling to fight, will be trampled by those strong enough to take what you have."

"Even extremists can be reasoned with, they-"

" _They cannot_!" the Sith shouted, snatching the cuboidal holocron from the couch and gripping it so tightly the golden edges sliced into his hand and quickly stained the blue box with blood. "It's _great_ that you have worked for and fought for peace on Mandalore, Satine, but none of this would have been possible without the war that killed the majority of those that opposed you! Being a pacifist when everything is at peace is _easy_!"

"You think doing what I have done is _easy_?!"

"No, it isn't, but doing it now is impossible!" he snarled, stepping toward her when she stepped back, blood dripping on to the marble floor. "Let me explain what will happen if I leave the Sith for you. My Master will torture me. There will be no questions asked, he will have no qualms about doing it, and attempts to reason with him will result in the extension of the agony from weeks to _months_. But _first_ ," he hissed, swiftly reaching out to grab her chin with his hand, the woman not quick or strong enough to pull away, " _first_ , he will kill you, and he will make me watch it, so I can understand what my weakness will bring upon me." The golden eyes darkened, sensing cold fear and dread fill the woman. "He no doubt sees you as a weakness. He probably allows me to keep you because he believes he can control me, and at any time, Satine, at _any time_ , he may order me to kill you so that I may be rid of everything I used to be, and the only thing I can do is hope that I will be strong enough to kill him when he does."

"Obi-Wan..." she said slowly, her voice shaking as she lightly brushed the hand tightly gripping her with her fingertips. "What have you gotten yourself into..."

"This is what I wanted," Kenobi growled, releasing her and stepping away, dropping the bloody holocron into his pack by the couch. "As you said, this is what I wanted, so _no_ , Satine. I'm not leaving the Sith. Not now. Not ever."

There was silence after that. For a long while, Obi-Wan looked at his hand, drawing upon the Force to heal the wounds, feeling the disturbance, diverting his attention to attend to it. Satine would either be with him in this, or she would not, and if not, Obi-Wan saw little choice but to leave her. It wasn't what he wanted, but deep inside him, the small piece of the Jedi that remained knew that to keep her safe, he would have to let her go.

"So..." she began softly, her voice cold and distant, and Kenobi felt his chest tighten. "I am just to accept this? You are asking me to sacrifice my values to be with a man that amounts to a murderer, and you will do _nothing_ in return."

"Satine, if you can't see-"

"The Sith have made you _cruel_ and _violent_ ," the Duchess said, her voice quivering with emotion that she fought to hold back. "You used to be a peacekeeper, Obi, you used to be a good man!"

"You're right," the Sith said softly, his features almost sad. "You have enemies, Satine, and your enemies aren't going to want to negotiate, and they won't want to be reasoned with, because sometimes, all someone wants is to watch everything around them burn. Sometimes, all these people want is your power, your position, or just revenge, and your peaceful ideals will just make it easier for them to get what they want. Maybe not now, but one day, Satine, you're going to be glad to have a man like me around, because I'm the sort of bad man that keeps _worse_ men away from _you_."

The door hissed open before she could respond, and the meek, hooded Mandalorian Senator Tal Merrik stepped into the room, and Kenobi swiftly turned away, teeth clenched as he focused on the Force and the warnings it whispered. "Am I...interrupting, Duchess?" the Senator asked, and Satine shook her head.

"Not at all. What is it?"

Merrik wrung his hands together. "A Jedi is here to see you on the behalf of the Republic. He's come with some... _distressing_ accusations." The Duchess narrowed her eyes.

"What accusations?"

Before he could answer, Kenobi reeled on him and asked in a deep, smooth voice, " _What Jedi_." Merrik didn't need to answer the question. The Force did it, the Sith's mind igniting in feelings of loss and longing and anger and betrayal, a mired, confusing mess of emotions that set the Dark Side snarling to life with hatred and rage, and suddenly, Satine seemed so much less important. Qui-Gon Jinn was here, and _nothing_ else mattered.


	48. Disturbance in Sundari

Eyes closed and deep in the Force, Qui-Gon Jinn could feel the Dark Side long before the Duchess arrived. Obi-Wan was here, as he had hoped he would be. He took a huge risk by coming here, but he wasn't lying when he said he was the only one that could have talked sense to Satine. Furthermore, calling Obi-Wan reasonable when Quinlan was involved wasn't saying much, as the two had always been close. Qui-Gon needed to test Kenobi. If the Sith was truly able to listen to reason, than he would see it now. If not, than it was almost certain that he would die, but Qui-Gon had a contingency plan for that as well that he had not shared with his fellow Masters.

He was approached by a tall, thin man with shockingly blond hair that the Jedi knew to be Mandalore's prime Minister, Almec, and Qui-Gon bowed, cordially saying, "I thank you for meeting with me, Prime Minister."

"I'm troubled by the rumors that have brought you here, Master Jedi," Almec said quietly as he shook the man's calloused hand. "Our Duchess has paid them no mind, of course, since she would never turn her back on her values in this way, but if the Jedi are investigating, than perhaps these rumors have become accusations."

"I am perfectly aware of the Duchess' views, and no, I am not here to lay accusations before her." Qui-Gon smiled gently. "Consider my visit as a social call."

"Even still," Almec continued, "you should know that all the Mandalorian warriors have been exiled, and they have since died out. Our violent past is behind us."

"Are you certain?" the Jedi asked softly, smiling when the man bristled. "Saboteurs wearing Mandalorian armor have been attacking Republic cruisers with impunity. There are a reason that the rumors exist, Prime Minister."

"They would be common bounty hunters, then!"

Qui-Gon slipped his hands into the opposite sleeves of his robe. "That certainly could be, yes."

"Master Jinn." The voice was clear, calm and collected, and Qui-Gon looked over Almec's shoulder to see Satine enter with guards in tow, and sat herself upon her elevated throne.

"It's good to see you again, Duchess," he said softly, his easy smile wilting under the Duchess' cold gaze. He quickly took measure of the room and found no sign of her Sith lover. He'd have to remain vigilant. This could very well be a trap.

"You are awfully polite for a man that comes to Mandalore to accuse me of treachery toward the Republic."

"I feel there's no reason not to be polite to anyone, regardless of the circumstance," Jinn said, his long stride taking him to the base of the shallow steps that led to her throne. "And I would never accuse you of personal wrongdoing. After all, I know your character, Satine. I am certain you are uninvolved. However..." He eyed the Duchess closely as she tensed, felt through the Force for her feelings and found her highly apprehensive as he drew a holodisc out of his robes and activated it, the image of a man in Mandalorian armor effortlessly shooting down bridge personnel on a small cruiser. "Republic ships have been attacked by Mandalorians, or at least those masquerading as them, which leads the Senate to believe that these rogues are in league with the Separatists. Certainly you can see the logic."

"I cannot."

"Ah."

"Clearly, your investigation was ordered because the Senate wishes to intervene in our affairs!" the Duchess cried, slamming her hand upon the armrest of the throne, and Qui-Gon winced. Satine was so... _angry_.

"I told you they could not be trusted..." a smooth voice drawled, the hooded man quickly striding in through the side entry and mounting the stairs to stand beside the throne, golden eyes blazing in the shadows of a face that was fixated on the Jedi, and Qui-Gon tensed. The Dark Side ran cold and furious off Kenobi, all prior attempts to hide his presence gone and replaced with a storm of rage and hatred that drew the very Force to him. This was unlike the last time the shell had cracked and the Sith Lord was left exposed. This time, Obi-Wan wasn't using the Force. The Force simply gathered around him, held him close and refused to let him go. Qui-Gon's own Padawan exhibited the same unique surging of the Force, but while Anakin's draw was like a calming, if rippled lake, Obi-Wan's was a raging tempest.

_A vergence in the Force._

The question now was if Satine had been manipulated, and if so, how much?

"All of you," the Sith whispered, but his voice seemed to carry through the hall, "leave us." The guards looked at each other, but didn't move, and Almec started to say something but found he could not, the entire hall dropping to a frigid chill. " _I said leave us_!" Kenobi hissed, this time with the weight of the Force behind his words, and there was no questions after that as the guards and the Prime Minister filed out of the room. "And seal the doors behind you when you leave!"

Qui-Gon never took his gaze from the burning fury of the Sith Lord, his focus easily kept as the great doors closed with a deep, reverberating rush of air, the Dark Side howling in his ears, but never touching him. Qui-Gon had worked a long time to build his defenses against the Dark Side of the Force, steel himself against the pain he had felt by his student's betrayal, and he had slowly turned that hurt to compassion and sympathy, which provided him a perfect shield now. He closed his eyes when he felt the Sith's will reach out and grab at him, the ferocious strength of the Dark Side attempting to bore into him, but his walls remained strong, unbreakable, and Kenobi snarled in fury as he moved to approach the Jedi, but Satine's hand shot out and grabbed the Sith's forearm, and he stopped.

"Obi-Wan, _don't_ ," she pleaded softly. "If you have any respect for me, you won't do _anything_."

Kenobi smirked dangerously and drew closer to the Duchess and whispered, "My Satine...do you trust me?"

"No." The answer was immediate and unwavering and left no room for doubt. Qui-Gon watched with interest as the Sith threw back the hood of his cloak and tore the garment from his body, carelessly tossing it to the side, his hand gripping his lightsaber. The Jedi simply stood with his hands folded before him and he didn't move.

" _You did this_!" Kenobi shouted, rushing down the steps to stand before the Jedi Master, and, upon having to crane his neck up to look at the towering man, growled and retreated up two steps so that he could stand eye to eye with Qui-Gon. "Before you came and interfered in my business, she trusted me! This is your fault!"

Qui-Gon put his hands up at shoulder level in a placating gesture. "Obi-Wan, all I did was talk to her about my concern for a mutual friend," he said softly, patiently, projecting calm through the Force, and it further enraged the already furious Sith. "If any mistrust or ill-will arose from that, it was your making. Though I am sorry for it none the less."

" _Me_?! This isn't me, this was _you_! None of this would have happened if you didn't try to get between us!"

"I did no such thing."

"Obi-Wan, _stop it_!" Satine snapped, standing up and glaring at the furious Kenobi. "You know why I don't trust you, and Qui-Gon had nothing to with it, and you _know that_."

"No, he did! All of it, this is all his fault!"

"Obi-Wan, look at you..." the Jedi said softly, instantly diverting the Sith's fury away from the Duchess and back to him, the handsome face contorting in rage. "You're out of control and so, so angry. What has happened to you"

" _You did_!" The red blade ignited, and the Sith Lord pointed it at the Jedi's chest, hardly registering the firm, frantic grasp of the Duchess at his arm. "You did this to me, Qui-Gon, all of this, _all of it_ , is because of you!"

"You're right," the Jedi said sadly, reaching under his robes to take his own lightsaber in his hand, the Dark Side around him blazing as Kenobi's focus shifted to the weapon. Qui-Gon gently tossed the lightsaber to the Sith's feet, and for a moment, the Dark Side receded. "Your fall to the Dark Side was my fault," he whispered. "I handled you poorly, Obi-Wan, and terribly unfairly, but we don't get to decide where the Force takes us, do we?"

Kenobi's hand tightened around the blazing weapon in his hand. "You're making _excuses_."

"I'm not. The Force led me to Anakin."

"If you mention his name in my presence _once more_ -"

"And in turn, the Force led you _here_ , to the Dark Side, to the embrace of the Sith." Qui-Gon chuckled, his voice pained. "If I had been a better Jedi, or a better Master, perhaps I could have sensed the danger and stopped it from happening, and for that, I am _deeply_ sorry, Obi-Wan."

The lightsaber in his hand trembled, the Force shifting around him as he tried to discern Qui-Gon's thoughts, feelings, intentions, but the Jedi was safely guarded behind walls that were impenetrable, not a single crack or weakness in the Jedi's resolve. Qui-Gon was changed. There was something about him, something different, something new, something... _dangerous_. Obi-Wan called the Jedi's lightsaber to his hand and ignited it, the blue blade humming to life and feeling so perfect, so familiar. It didn't have the same feel to him as the red in his right, and it felt wrong to hold it, as if the blade no longer belonged to him, but it felt comforting still, like a long-forgotten memory that had been suddenly and fondly recalled.

"You've made a _huge_ mistake in coming here, Qui-Gon," Kenobi said dangerously, tearing his arm out of Satine's grasp and slowly advancing on the stalwart Jedi Master.

"I'm unarmed," Qui-Gon calmly stated, indicating with his head the blue blade in the Sith's hand.

"You walk with the Force, you are _never_ unarmed."

"I won't fight you, my old friend."

"Then you're going to die."

Obi-Wan stopped his advance when the Jedi _smiled_ , his yellow eyes narrowing when he felt the Jedi's resignation, his fearlessness, almost as if he _wanted_ this. For half a second, the Dark Side was stoked to a blazing rage, and as suddenly as the flames consumed the Sith, they died, not just down to glowing embers, but down to ash as the Dark Side receded and screamed with warning. Murderous intent gone, Obi-Wan was able to look at the Jedi with eyes unclouded by intense rage and hate long enough to see power within his old Master that he had _never_ seen before from any Force wielder, not just in the light, but in the dark as well. Not even from Yoda, that infuriatingly powerful Grandmaster. He had always wanted to kill Qui-Gon for what he had done, but now, the Dark Side warned _against_ it. The Force was actually protecting Qui-Gon Jinn. Obi-Wan would have to meditate on this development. Acting heedlessly of the Force was the quickest way to downfall.

"You can't kill me, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said softly, his presence relaxed even as the Sith Lord seethed in silent rage. "I'm here to investigate the Senate's allegations against Satine. If I die here..." He shrugged easily. "It would all but confirm their suspicions about her connections to the Separatists, and Mandalore would become a battleground."

The rage returned, greater and more intense than before. Qui-Gon Jinn was correct. With a snarl of unconstrained wrath, Kenobi threw the blue weapon toward his former Master, the Jedi simply raising his hand and wrapping his fingers around the hilt when it hit his palm, swiftly retracting the glowing plasma blade and returning it to its place on his belt. Kenobi shifted his focus back to the Duchess, shaking in futile rage. "Do you see what he is doing?! He is trying to get between us _again_!"

"Keeping you from _murder_ isn't getting between us, Obi-Wan!" Satine shouted back, rising from the throne to stand towering above the Sith from her elevated place.

" _Yes it is_! He means to expose you to the Senate, he is trying to bring Mandalore into the Republic! This is how he means to get between us _again_!"

"I am doing no such thing, and I have no interest in involving myself in your domestic squabble," Qui-Gon said calmly. "I am just here to help."

" _I don't need help_!" the Sith shouted, and finally, Qui-Gon's dark blue eyes narrowed, his calm shifting to annoyance with his former student.

"I'm not here to help you, Obi-Wan, you have made it clear that you are beyond help and beyond saving. I am here to help _Satine_." The Sith withdrew, yellow eyes wide and quickly scanning the Jedi Master and filled with the frustration that came with a lack of understanding. Qui-Gon scoffed. "Contrary to what you seem to believe, Obi-Wan, not everything is about _you_. There are bigger, more important things in this war than the Jedi's struggle against your resentments."

"You speak of helping, but you have already thrown serious accusations at me," Satine said sharply. "You are only here because the Republic is trying to interfere with Mandalorian neutrality!"

"The Senate didn't send me, Duchess. No investigation on these attacks have been ordered yet. I came on my own to see if I can't help get to the bottom of this before the Republic gets involved. I worked too hard here to see you come to the throne, just to have it all destroyed in the crossfire of another war."

Satine glared at the Sith by her side, his eyes lowered and pensive and lost in thought. "I stand corrected, Master Jedi. Your offer is gracious. Will you come on a walk in the city with me?" Qui-Gon nodded, looking between the Duchess and the incensed Sith with caution and interest. She clearly had more to say, and whatever it was, she didn't want Obi-Wan to know.

The Duchess walked down the shallow steps to Qui-Gon's side when the Sith jolted to action, deactivating his lightsaber and swiftly grabbing her hand, which she tore away from him with an impatient sneer. "You can't do this," he said, concern on his face when he felt the Force tremble as it gripped him, clutching his mind with a haze that threatened to overtake him as his control waned. The Dark Side wasn't violent or raging, it was cautious, warning, trembling in anticipation, though from what, Obi-Wan did not know.

"I can and I will," she hissed, grabbing Qui-Gon's arm, and the Jedi looked at the Sith Lord apologetically when he felt jealous rage rush through him.

"Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon had whispered it, but to Kenobi, the words were harsh and loud, his rage leaving him focused on nothing but his old Master, his muscles tensing as he fought for control of his emotions, and despite the Dark Side seeming to recoil violently from the Jedi, the young Sith couldn't stop the unbridled rage. "Please, allow me to help. You certainly don't want to see Satine pulled into this war."

"...no, I don't."

"I feel that puts our desires in alignment. I am not your enemy in this."

It took a long while for the rage to abate, but when it did, Kenobi lowered himself onto the Duchess' throne, using the Force to call his discarded cloak to him and wrapping it around him, pulling the hood over his head to hide his face in black shadows, but the golden eyes still glowed. "No..." he said softly. "But someone is."

"I'd like to discover who that is before it becomes a problem on the galactic front," the Jedi said, and Kenobi nodded.

"I would like that as well. _Very_ much so." He steepled his fingers and carefully observed his Duchess linked arm in arm with the Jedi, but the jealousy had faded, giving way instead to cold, patient logic and a desire for revenge, not against Qui-Gon, who the Force seemed to be protecting, but against the assailant on his lover's reputation. "The way I see it, there are only two possibilities," the Sith quietly continued, the Jedi having to lean in to hear him. "Either Satine's exiled warriors aren't nearly so dead as she seems to believe, or the Separatists are attempting to bring a Republic military presence to Mandalore."

Qui-Gon looked at him curiously. "Wouldn't you be in a position to know about the Separatist activities?" Satine held her breath as she observed her lover, relaxed and calm and so, so distant on that throne, and felt new mistrust begin to grow within her, though toward who, she was uncertain.

"Apparently not," was the icy, removed response, and the Jedi felt the Dark Side return from its retreat, the Force gathering toward the Sith Lord like a star caught in the clutches of a black hole. "I cannot be seen together with Satine, lest my presence confirm suspicions about her Separatist associations. Go, investigate, but be cautious, Qui-Gon. Something feels wrong, and if any harm comes to her..."

"She will be safe with me, Obi-Wan. You have my word."

The Sith Lord nodded. "May the Force be with you in this, Qui-Gon Jinn." With a small bow, the Jedi and the Duchess left the hall, leaving Kenobi alone to his meditations, reaching into the Force to identify the meaning of the attacks and the Force's protection of the Jedi Master.

* * *

"I spoke to him, like you asked," the Duchess said quietly, walking closely beside the tall Jedi Master through one of Sundari's cuboidal business districts, her personal guard bringing up the rear some distance away. It was fair and peaceful in the city, so different from the war-torn waste Qui-Gon had come to know during their violent and bloody civil war.

"I see he did not take it well."

She laughed harshly. "Not in the least. To use his words, he had _corrected_ my recollection of the events. I only remembered recently what actually transpired between us."

The Jedi looked at her in shock, mouth slightly parted as he tried to make sense of it. "That...was unexpected. I'm so sorry, Satine. I'm at fault for this. I didn't expect him to do such a thing, I thought..." He exhaled sharply and looked at the woman next to him, her face impassive and detached. It appeared that the woman had spoken about this before. "Has he... _altered_ you further?"

"No. He seems repentant, but..." Satine sighed and drew closer to the Jedi. "He's changed so much since the war began."

"Yes, I would imagine it would appear that way..."

Satine looked at him with a mix of curiosity and disbelief. "You don't think he has?"

"No, no, he _has_. There is no doubt about that." The Jedi smiled down at her. "But you have as well. I sense it within you, this war is straining your beliefs. You are being tested."

"If you aim to make me change my stance, Qui-Gon, I will not," she said firmly, leaving no room for debate, and the Jedi laughed and shook his head. She dealt in absolutes in the exact way that the Sith her lover belonged to were said to do. In this, they made a fair, if uncompromising, match.

"I see it as the purpose of the Republic to make certain that the war never reaches you here so that you may maintain those ideals. And to do that, I need to know the measure of what is happening here on Mandalore."

The Duchess took a deep breath and lowering her voice, she said, "I believe the rogue you are looking for came from a group that calls itself Death Watch. They idolize Mandalore's violent past."

Qui-Gon frowned. "Not very subtle, are they?"

"No, they aren't. They are dissenters that hail from Concordia, but they have never done anything beyond public vandalism. We have rounded up a number of them, and we should have the trouble contained soon." She crossed her arms over her chest. "Not everyone agrees with the new way we have established here on Mandalore."

"And you couldn't tell me about this in the palace?" he asked, and Satine looked away from him. "Does Obi-Wan not know about this?"

"No, he doesn't. I can't tell him, he's so violent now, he will do something rash." She bit her lip as she thought, slowing the already languid pace down until they may as well have been at a standstill. "The last thing I need to do is explain to my people why the population of Concordia was slaughtered."

"You believe he would kill them all?"

"I believe he has it in him."

"And you cannot trust him not to?"

Satine sighed and closed her eyes, stopping in the middle of the walkway. "I don't know if I can trust him at all. Certainly not in a situation where he feels wronged."

"And yet..." Qui-Gon said in a low, deep voice, wrapping his large hand and pulling her closer to him. "You are wronging him now." Satine pulled away from his grasp quickly and narrowed her bright blue eyes in anger. The Jedi swiftly brought a finger to his lips to silence her. "Satine, he _needs_ to know about this. He and I may be on different sides of a very dangerous conflict, and he may belong to the Jedi's ancient enemies, but if anything can be said about Obi-Wan Kenobi, it's that he's distressingly effective at what he does. What do you suppose he's going to do when he finds out that you are dealing with a very real threat on your own, and you didn't trust him enough to tell him?"

"Vandalism isn't a very real threat, Qui-Gon!"

"Not yet. But if they are attacking Republic ships, how long do you suppose it will be before they begin attacking you?" Qui-Gon moved to stand close to the woman again, and this time, she didn't move away. "I agree with your ideals, Satine. And I admire your commitment to them. However, without something or someone to protect them, they will not last long. The galaxy doesn't lack for those that lust for power. Your ideals are noble, but they are not realistic. You need _protection_."

"From who?" she scoffed. "From your Republic? As I have said, I will not have troops stationed here that will bring us into the war."

"Satine, you may already be in it..."

Whatever she was going to say was drowned out by a deafening sound that set the Jedi's ears ringing as a large building before them exploded. Qui-Gon grabbed the woman and pulled her around to act as her shield, bits of rubble striking him in the back, some hard enough to break the skin through his thick robes. When it had ended, the Jedi Master looked around to see the building in flames and ruins, the dead and the injured laying scattered around as emergency personal and guards quickly rushed to the scene.

"Is this what is considered vandalism on Mandalore these days?" Qui-Gon asked, swiftly checking the woman for injuries as she frantically tried to get out of his grasp and rush to aid her people. Seeing she was alright, the Jedi let her free to check on the wounded, conferring with the medics that were first to arrive before she returned to the Jedi.

"This must be the work of an off-worlder," she said absently, but stopped her train of thought when she saw a jagged, glowing orange hologram in the image of a Mandalorian Shriek-hawk. Qui-Gon felt panic well up inside the woman, though her appearance remained collected. He recognized the symbol as well. It had been worn by soldiers that fought against the New Mandalorians during Mandalore's prolonged Civil War.

"Are you so certain of that?" A crowd was beginning to gather, whispering and pointing and Qui-Gon could feel the Force tremble with their anxiety and their fear, the people being jostled and moved out of the way to make room for a cloaked man that came rushing into the site of the explosion. A wave of his hand knocked the guards that tried to block his progress effortlessly to the side, and he rushed to the Duchess and grabbed her tightly. A swift check for injuries revealed nothing, and Kenobi quickly reeled on the Jedi Master.

" _You said you would keep her safe_!"

"She isn't harmed. Calm yourself."

Gold eyes narrowed from the shadows of his hood, but Obi-Wan said nothing more, quickly turning to survey the crowed of people around them. Without looking in it's direction, he pointed to the hologram that was projected in the rubble. "Calling card?"

"It seems like it," the Jedi responded, and he could hear the Sith Lord growl, but could no longer feel the man's presence in the Force.

"I recognize it, and in a few moments, I'm going to become very, _very_ angry, so I suggest you take Satine to safety, because she isn't going to like what I'm about to do." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and Qui-Gon drew closer.

"Obi-Wan."

"Were you not listening to me? Why can't you just _obey_ , Qui-Gon."

"This is the work of the Death Watch," he whispered, drawing even closer to the smouldering Sith. "Satine says they have been active as of late." The Sith didn't look at him, but Qui-Gon could feel Kenobi's full attention shift to him.

"...I heard nothing about this."

"It's been nothing big. Small cases of vandalism, she says."

Kenobi was quiet for a moment as he centered himself in the Force in an attempt to preserve his waning patience. "This is a political statement against the Duchess. She isn't safe here. Take her back to the palace." He straightened up and swiftly grabbed Satine away from her guard and handed the protesting woman to the Jedi, shooting her a glare that silenced her. "Can you feel them?" he asked quietly to nobody in particular, but Qui-Gon was listening. "They're afraid, nervous, shocked... _guilty_." His temper flared as he felt clashing emotions from the crowd, and loudly commanded the guards, " _Nobody_ leaves here until I have interrogated _everyone_ , am I understood?"

The guards didn't get a chance to respond before one in the crowed pushed his way out and rushed down one of the many streets, and within moments, the Sith Lord was after him, jumping easily over any obstacle in his path and quickly gaining on the culprit. The bald man didn't make it very far. Less than a minute after he began his frantic flight, the bomber ran down a flight of stairs that ended in a balcony overlooking a massive drop to the lower levels of the city. The Sith jumped down the stairs after him, and the man quickly drew his blaster and pointed it at the cloaked figure, only to find the weapon pulled from his hands by an invisible force, the pistol sparking and screeching as it was twisted and bent in the very air before him.

Eyes widening in fear, he turned from his pursuer and made for the balcony's rail, only to be stopped in his tracks when his legs ceased to function, and he fell face first to the ground, nose splitting open and bleeding profusely when it struck the hard stone. His hazy eyes saw the shadows of fine leather boots pass by him, and a second later, he was dragged up by the nape of his neck to face the cloaked figure sitting cross-legged before him. He flailed, trying to strike at the apparent second man that held him up, but where his fists should have connected with legs and arms, there was only air. His eyes locked with sinister glowing ones, a light smile on the face of the man that held him with the power of his will.

"Comfortable?" Kenobi asked softly, his smile growing when the man didn't respond. He didn't look up to see Qui-Gon enter with Satine, the Jedi holding her at the entrance to the balcony and both of them silent. "Yaim'la?" He laughed when the bomber's eyes widened with shock and recognition. "Ni liser jorhaa'ir Mando'a, meh gar jatne emuurir." Slowly, the man nodded, and from his place, Qui-Gon crept closer, bringing the Duchess with him, stopping when he could make out the words. "Tion'ad ke'gyce gar at vaabir ibic?"

"What's he saying?" Qui-Gon asked, and Satine held up a hand.

The man said nothing. Smiling, Obi-Wan very slowly drawled, "Suit yourself. I don't _need_ you to tell me anything." He held out a hand, fingers splayed, a smile on his lips, and the man's eyes widened, jaw clenching for just a moment before he started to scream when the blood in his veins began to boil.

He didn't need to wait for long before the man screamed, "Vi Kelir bring kyr'am at te evaar'la Mando'ade bal yaimpar kot at Manda'yaim."

Satine paled, Qui-Gon looking at her with concern, and very slowly, she translated, "We will bring death to the New Mandalorians and return strength to Mandalore."

The man was slammed to the ground, and he began to convulse, and for just a moment, Kenobi looked confused. When understanding dawned on him, he quickly flipped the man over, blood frothing from his mouth and eyes rolled back into his head, and the Sith snarled in outrage and pulled the man up, only to have him fall back to the floor as deadweight, the convulsions stopping as he died. Satine and Qui-Gon both knelt at the man's side, the Duchess mumbling in Mando'a under her breath, and the Jedi bending to examine the body. After a moment, Satine rose and to face the pacing Sith. "You _killed_ him!"

"Oh, _did I_?" Obi-Wan snapped, the railing beginning to shake under the power of his fury. "Why would I do that, he was more useful to me alive!"

Qui-Gon held up the deceased man's hand, a small, bleeding cut in the ridged palm. "Poisoned," the Jedi said softly. "Obi-Wan didn't do this." Satine breathed a sigh of relief, but it was short lived, as the Sith was suddenly before her, drawn to his full height and furiously angry.

"This is _your fault_ ," he growled, advancing on her as she backed up until she was pressed against the wall, the Sith's arms planted beside her and preventing her from moving away. "All of it. Every death that occurred here today is because of _you_!" She started to respond, but Kenobi cut her off with a harsh laugh. "What did I tell you?! The _delusions_ of a dreamer will not bring you true peace, and now you have a group that wants you _dead_! There is no reasoning out of this, Satine, they are calling for your blood!" She looked away from him, and growling, Kenobi grabbed her arm and pushed her toward Qui-Gon, the Jedi quickly catching the woman.

"Obi-Wan, it isn't fair to blame the Duchess for the dead..."

"Perhaps not, but if she told me about these troubles, I could have prevented things before they got out of hand, and now, _they are out of hand_!" He took a deep breath to calm himself, but it wasn't working. "The dialect wasn't Mandalorian, and he lacked _your_ accent, so where was it from, Satine? Mandallia, or Concordia?" She didn't say a word. Eyes narrowed in anger, the Sith Lord snarled, "Your way doesn't work, Satine, so now we're going to do things _my way_! You want to sit here and abhor violence, and that's _fine_ , but if you want that sort of freedom, someone is going to have to fight for it! So if pacifism is what you want, _fine_ , you shall have it, my love, I will gift you with _peace_."

"Obi-Wan, don't, please!" the Duchess started when the Sith quickly turned from her, and Kenobi spared her a glance over his shoulder.

"These aren't people that can be reasoned with," he said calmly, and Qui-Gon could sense a tenderness there that he hadn't observed before. "You heard him. They want you _dead_. I won't allow it, and these are people that only respond to violence."

"No, it won't solve anything!" she cried, trying to pull away from Qui-Gon, but the Jedi wouldn't let her go. "Violence begets more violence, there will be retaliation for whatever you do!"

"Not if you make them _afraid_ ," he hissed. "My weapon isn't violence, Satine, it's _fear_. I will make them so overwhelmingly afraid of what will happen if they cross into my territory again that they would rather take their own lives than set foot on Mandalore. Inflict pain on a person and they will recover, but if you inflict _terror_ , you can change the path of a culture for _generations_." He ran his hands over his face. "I'll ask you one more time. _Where_ was the dialect from."

Satine looked away from him, breathed deeply, and slowly whispered, "Concordia." Kenobi nodded.

"Escort the Duchess back to the palace, Qui-Gon. I have business to attend to." The Sith said nothing else as his long stride took him from the balcony, and the Duchess slowly gripped the Jedi's arm.

"...go with him," she whispered, blue eyes pleading. "Make sure he doesn't do anything foolish..."

"I'll do my best," he said, laying a hand on her shoulder and leading her from the balcony, feeling the woman's emotions and finding them scared and conflicted, but devoid of any of the anger that was there before. "...he's doing this because he loves you, Satine."

"...I know he does." Holding her close, the Jedi Master and the Duchess walked the rest of the way back to the palace in silence.


	49. Death Watch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I absolutely cannot believe I got out a chapter every day this week. My week has been CRAZY, eighty hours of work. I sure do hope you guys appreciate this!

Obi-Wan sat cross-legged on the floor just in front of the cockpit, his golden eyes narrowed in focus as he stared at Qui-Gon Jinn, who sat similarly on the other end of the corridor. Only twenty feet separated them, but to Kenobi, the gap felt simultaneously so much smaller and so much larger. Neither man had spoken when Qui-Gon stepped beside the Sith Lord as he waited to board the royal shuttle that would bear him to Concordia, and neither man could gage the other's emotions or thoughts through perfectly constructed Force walls, though it was not for lack of effort. Even now, Kenobi could feel the Jedi's presence around him, calm and soothing and coaxing him to lower his defenses and allow him in, but the Sith Lord was having none of it. Similarly, attempts to break the Jedi's mind were met with mild amusement on the part of the older man, which only served to enrage Obi-Wan, but unlike normal circumstances, the Dark Side did not rise to feed on his anger and hatred. The Dark Side was _silent_.

It was an odd sensation that made Kenobi more cautious and interested than anything else. He could feel the Dark Side within him in abundance, but it was still, as if it had no interest in heeding the Sith's command. It wasn't that he couldn't. Focused, Obi-Wan could coax the darkness to stir, feel it rise blazing within him and filling him with unlimited power. But when he turned his gaze on Qui-Gon, despite the strength of the Dark Side, it hissed in warning and recoiled. Despite his anger with his old Master, despite the desire to hurt the man beyond all comprehension, despite his consuming need to break his mind until there was nothing left, the Dark Side that usually supported his urges drove him to keep his distance. Any rage felt toward Qui-Gon was quickly met with a warning by the Force until Kenobi's anger slowly faded into curiosity as he submitted to the will of the Force.

This Jedi's continued existence went beyond simply saving Satine and Mandalore, it was the will of the Force that he survive, though Obi-Wan couldn't understand why. Qui-Gon's betrayal had sent him down a dark path and led him right into the embrace of Darth Sidious, so _why_ would the Dark Side deny itself in this manner. He steadied himself, breathing deeply and surrendered himself to the Force, reaching out toward Qui-Gon, and he could feel the Dark Side snaking deep within him, reaching out to the Jedi and calling the Force to take him. The Force obeyed, and within moments, visions ran through Kenobi's mind, swirling shadows slowly taking form as the haze cleared.

All Obi-Wan saw was Qui-Gon, the Jedi standing tall and silent in a black abyss, his face relaxed, his demeanor calm, and with a deep breath, Kenobi cautiously drew closer, the Force strained with tension at his approach, but he ignored the warning and pressed forward. Kenobi's eyes began to sting, watering as he came nearly close enough to touch, and reaching out to him, the Jedi smiled sadly before he began to fade, the color leaving his face and robes until he was ghostly white in the moments before he disappeared. After that, there was nothing but pain. Even through the vision, Obi-Wan's consciousness felt the agony that wracked his body as the abyss erupted into flames, the inferno engulfing him and forming into the shifting, screaming face that he so often saw, but now, it was clearer. Kenobi still could not recognize who it was, but he could see him now, his skin bubbling and blistering as it was burned, the eyes a haunting yellow ringed with red, and when he looked upon it, Obi-Wan felt _betrayal_.

Kenobi gasped loudly as the Force threw him back into himself to find that he was doubled over upon the cold, hard floor, clutching his sides as pain lanced through his body as the Dark Side snarled and writhed, punishing him for ignoring the warnings to keep away. He opened his eyes to find that Qui-Gon had scooted closer to him, the Jedi's face cold and impassive, but he could feel him reaching out with concern. Kenobi closed his eyes again and imagined the Jedi's death, only to be met with more pain. Imagining his capture, dismemberment, or disfigurement met with the same results. The Force didn't just want Jinn alive, it wanted him left alone. He often didn't know what to expect of the visions he so often had, but this one was more confusing than the rest. Qui-Gon was holding back something awful, and that thing appeared to be Sith so...

So why did he feel so much apprehension about it?

"Are you alright?" Qui-Gon asked softly when Kenobi pushed himself up to his knees, the Sith glowering at the Jedi in response. The Jedi inclined his head. "Do you have visions often?"

"Wouldn't you like to know."

"I would."

"And I would like silence until we reach Concordia," Kenobi growled, closing his eyes and sinking back into the Force once again, but Qui-Gon's presence reached out to touch him, and Obi-Wan found it so blindingly bright it brought him out of his focus and made him center on the Jedi. Qui-Gon simply smiled.

"Are you aware that there's a very high likelihood that Death Watch is being supported by the Separatists?" The Sith didn't answer, and Qui-Gon took that to mean that he needed to explain. "They were attacking Republic ships, you see, and now that the neutral systems are facing attacks by a group that seems to be linked to the Confederacy, the Republic will feel compelled to send aid."

Kenobi narrowed his eyes in anger. "I _know that_. Do you take me for a fool?"

"Not usually, but I have been wrong before." He sat up straighter when the Sith Lord clenched his jaw tightly. "If we find the Death Watch to be supported by your military, what will you do?"

"We are not partners in this, Qui-Gon, and when we reach Concordia, I expect you to wait right here. You have no place here, you should have stayed behind to protect Satine." The Sith's hands tightened on his knees. "But since you are foolishly present, _stop_ asking about my plans."

"You would prefer me to work on my own then?" Kenobi's chest tightened in rage when he looked at the smirking Jedi. Qui-Gon was calm, collected, _confident_ , and it was everything he _shouldn't_ have been. His former Master should be quaking in fear, or wracked with guilt, or worried for his life, or _anything_ but what he was. And yet, there he sat, the very image of a Jedi Master, one with the Force and unafraid. Qui-Gon never had the gift of foresight, as he existed in the present more than any other Jedi Kenobi had ever known, so he couldn't have seen the visions that were saving him. So _why_ was he like this? The Jedi must have known something, there _must_ have been something else. Visions could have more than one meaning, perhaps it was showing him something beyond the face in flames.

"Evidence of Separatist involvement is compelling," the Sith finally said. "But it isn't enough. I need proof, which should be easy enough for me to obtain."

"You can't just go and read the minds of everyone on Concordia."

Kenobi rolled his eyes. "Kriffing Sith Hells, Qui-Gon, you treat me like I'm an _amateur_. I have been doing this for a _long_ time now. Anyone can just run in and take what they want and leave no impact at all, but I get results that last by creating a culture of terror, and that doesn't happen randomly."

The Jedi nodded in what appeared to be approval. "So nobody will die?"

"Not needlessly..."

"So what _will_ you do?"

" _I don't know, Qui-Gon_ ," Kenobi snapped, finally getting to his feet and putting as much distance between him and the Jedi that he could. It wasn't much, and certainly not enough to calm the frantic warnings of the Force when his temper rose. "I will talk to Concordia's governor and see what I can gather from him. Pre Vizsla is an outspoken supporter of Satine's government, so he should be able to point us in the right direction."

"Satine spoke highly of him before I left. She counts him among her most trusted allies."

Kenobi scoffed. "Because Satine is an idealistic fool." Qui-Gon arched an eyebrow.

"You doubt his intentions? Have you met him?"

"No, but something doesn't feel right. It's no coincidence that the Mandalorian warriors were exiled to Concordia, and now we are sent there investigating a public attack. Vizsla is either directly involved, or he's being used by someone who is. Either way, he's connected."

"I can't imagine the Duchess will approve if harm is to come to him."

" _I don't care what Satine thinks_!" Kenobi's fist struck the wall, the durasteel easily denting under the force of it, which caused several maintenance droids to roll out from the cargo bay. They quickly scattered away when one of them was grabbed with the Force and quickly crushed down into a dense cube and hurled down the hallway after the retreating droids. "Her views are foolish and misguided! One cannot have peace without the will and the power to enforce it. Since her way has failed, we will do things my way. And besides..." he growled, running his hand over the indent he had created. "This isn't about her anymore. You are likely correct about a Separatist link, which means that someone on my side is messing with me directly, and _nobody_ gets to do that."

Qui-Gon's eyes lit with understanding as he rose to his feet as well. "You are going to play nice with the Governor in the hopes that he will reveal his Separatist benefactor."

"There is no hope involved, he _will_ reveal what I need to know." Kenobi's face seemed to darken as he stepped closer to the Jedi. "Just as you will." Qui-Gon took a step back as the Sith Lord advanced. "There's something inside you, Qui-Gon, something I haven't seen before in _anyone_. What have you done?" A secretive smile passed over the Jedi's lips, but he said nothing. Kenobi snarled in frustration. "I get what I want, Qui-Gon, I _always_ get what I want, and if you don't give me my answers, I will tear them from you!"

"You will do no such thing," he said calmly, and despite the Force howling in warning, the Sith's rage continued to rise. Before Qui-Gon could move or even sense it coming, and before Obi-Wan could stop himself, the Sith's foot connected with the back of the Jedi's leg and the Master's knees slammed onto the floor with the thick sound of a harsh impact, and Qui-Gon winced in pain, feeling dark bruises already beginning to form. He gasped in pain when a black boot stepped hard on the back of his calf, keeping him from moving as long fingers wrapped into his hair and roughly pulled his head back, the Jedi forced to look up into yellow eyes that blazed with a seemingly infinite well of hatred and rage.

"Look at you, Qui-Gon..." the Sith whispered. "You've become so... _old_."

"The same cannot be said of you, Obi-Wan," Jinn said softly, calmly, and he felt the fist in his hair tighten. "You look no older than the last time I saw you before you fell to the Dark Side." This time, he frowned. "How is it possible? How are you doing it? What have you become? I've been trying to sort it out since I came here to Mandalore." A sly grin spread across the Jedi's face. "I'll share what I've done if you do the same."

The Sith laughed harshly, pulling the Jedi's head back further and poising his fingers just above his forehead. "I don't share, Qui-Gon. As I've said, I take what I want." Against the warnings of the Force, Obi-Wan fueled his anger and drove the Dark Side into the Jedi Master, meeting with the insurmountable defense and tightly grabbed at his protected mind, increasing the force of his grasp in an attempt to crush the Jedi's will as he had so many others, driven to continue when he saw Qui-Gon's face narrow in intense focus and pain as he resisted. Then, without warning, the Jedi Master relaxed, a calm ease settling over him as he suddenly let go of his defenses, and the Sith fell uncontrolled into his mind.

The sinister delight was a fleeting moment when Kenobi was met with searing light, his ability to read thoughts, emotions, intentions and memories burned out of him as he was blinded by a brightness greater than any sun, greater than a _thousand_ suns, and for only a moment, Obi-Wan could see infinity, the breath of the Force itself within the Jedi Master. The Jedi was one with the Force, as expected from a Jedi Master, but it wasn't in the same way that Obi-Wan himself was one with it. The young Sith was an open conduit, and instrument of the will of the Force, but this Jedi was something more. He _was_ the Force. Every cell in his body seemed to be in open surrender to the Force that would one day take him, as if they had already surrendered their physical state to become pure energy.

Then, he felt himself begin to burn, the white light enveloping him and bringing the Sith nothing but pain, and though he tried to withdraw, the Force held him there, exacting its revenge on the Sith's blatant disregard of its warnings. Kenobi's consciousness began to fade, and the Dark Side took over, tearing the Sith away from the Jedi Master and throwing himself against the bulkhead, the furthest distance he could get from the source of his pain, but it was not far enough. Back pressed against the cold metal, hands splayed out by his sides, Kenobi slowly regained control, breathing hard and focus returning, but the pain in his mind and the warnings of the Force still remained.

"What are you?" the Sith gasped, watching the Jedi slowly rise to his feet, a hand on the wall to aid him. He didn't need Qui-Gon to say anything for him to know the answer. Within the Jedi, Obi-Wan had seen eternity. Perhaps the Force wasn't warning him _not_ to kill the old Master, but telling him that he _couldn't_. It seemed as though the Jedi had discovered what Darth Sidious could not, and Kenobi couldn't help but feel terribly impressed.

"I suspect," Qui-Gon said slowly, "that you and I have discovered different ways to a similar end, but I have no use for eternal youth." The Jedi smiled and stopped talking, the implication clear. Eternal youth meant nothing in the face of eternal life.

"Shall we test your dedication then?" Obi-Wan said dangerously, but he could not keep the resistance out of his voice, and the Jedi simply nodded.

"If you like. I will not fight you, Obi-Wan. I'm not here for that, and I can sense your hesitation. You won't kill me."

"You think me weak."

"No, I think you _intelligent_. You have always been reasonable and mindful of the Force, Obi-Wan. You have changed a great deal, but not in this." The Sith did not respond as he cautiously eyed the Jedi. "So let me ask you again. What is your plan?"

Qui-Gon Jinn was no ally, that was certain, but neither did he seem to be an enemy. He wasn't acting like a Jedi, but he never had. Slowly, Kenobi said, "The plan has changed. You will meet with Pre Vizsla. No doubt he is expecting you, since Satine holds him in confidence, and I believe she contacted him to inform him of the events that happened in Sundari."

The Jedi nodded. "She did."

"Then you will meet with him and learn what you can. As I'm sure you know, even lies reveal pieces of the truth. See what you can put together."

"I will. And you?"

Kenobi smirked. "I will conduct my own investigation. It should not be difficult for me to find the Death Watch."

Qui-Gon nodded. "How shall we keep in touch?"

"You and I once shared a Force bond. The connection should be easy to reestablish."

The Jedi held his breath, a slow smile on his face as he exhaled. "If you believe I am stupid enough to allow you inside my mind, Sith Lord, than you are sorely mistaken." Kenobi tensed, and Qui-Gon could feel the boy's anger, knowing he hit on the truth of the Sith's intentions. He would have to be mindful to keep his guard up. "We'll see if we can borrow comlinks and earpieces from the droids in the hold. They should have them somewhere on the ship."

Obi-Wan crossed his arms and slid down the wall, eyes closed as he reached back into the Force. "You better do that. I don't deal with droids."

"An unusual sentiment for a Separatist commander," the Jedi mused, smiling softly as he walked past the Sith Apprentice.

* * *

Kenobi watched from the transport as Qui-Gon greeted the striking Pre Vizsla, the man tall with pale blond hair, like many Mandalorians. He appeared genial and good-natured, but Obi-Wan sensed deception in his every word, his every gesture. Vizsla was involved in this matter, of this he was certain, and it was confirmed when the body of the bomber was pushed off the ship on a hovertable. The Concordian didn't display anger or sadness or any of the emotions that typically accompanied grief. He was, instead, _proud_. When the governor and his retinue led Qui-Gon out of the hanger and into the estate the man held his office in, Kenobi snuck off the ship, hood pulled over his head and striding past the droids that wheeled about preforming maintenance and routine checks on the ships and speeders in the bay.

The Sith mounted one of the speeders and effortlessly turned it on, the motor humming and purring beneath him as he gently hit the throttle, bringing the single-rider craft slowly to the bay doors as he acquainted himself with the controls. He revved the engines, thrusting the accelerator to its maximum speed, and jolted out into Concordia's twilight. The terrain was rough and rocky, the result of the moon having been mined to exhaustion by Mandalorians during the civil war, the soil once rich with minerals used in the crafting of weapons and armor, but now the earth remained barren and bereft, the thick forests that once covered the planet only just now beginning to regrow some twenty years later.

Which was why Obi-Wan found it excessively odd that, from their approach to the governor's palace, he could see smoke from a distant mining facility. Using the Force to guide him, he easily found his way to the enormous factory, the gates around it sealed tightly as if the building had been abandoned and condemned, despite the smoke that rose from towering chimneys. Closing his eyes and reaching through the Force, he could feel life teeming within the compound, both in the mining facility and under the ground beneath him, where the Force seemed to pull him to. If he were to find Death Watch, that is where they would be. Bending his knees, Obi-Wan effortlessly jumped over the gate, landing softly on the loose, disrupted earth on the other side and smirking when he saw footprints clearly in the trodden soil.

He stood, brushing himself off and made his way to an elevator shaft that stood taped off on the side of the building, the elevator's compartment laying broken and disconnected to the side. He looked down and breathed deeply, and earthy, smoky air filled his lungs. Kenobi maneuvered a rock around the ground with the tip of his boot, and kicked it down the shaft, counting softly until he heard the strike and echo when it had hit the bottom. It was a long drop, but not impossible to make. Taking his lightsaber in his hand, Obi-Wan stepped off the edge, his heart beating in his chest at the exhilaration of free falling and the air whipping around him as he dropped. Feeling the bottom draw near, he activated the lightsaber, the hiss of the burning plasma echoing loudly around him, and he drove it into the wall, slowing his fall just enough for him to plant his feet and leap off the side, slowing his momentum enough to land with barely a sound on the bottom.

He deactivated his saber, but the sound of it humming and hissing still reverberated in the air. He could feel darkness here, anger and hatred and unchecked aggression and a passion for violence that drew the Dark Side like a quickly moving current, and with a deep breath, Kenobi opened himself to it, feeling the change in the flow of the Force as it was drawn into him like a vortex. Empowered, he walked down the hall at a leisurely pace, remaining vigilant of the life around him to prevent any sort of defensive measures that the beings may have had in place, but Obi-Wan could already sense that there was nothing. He headed toward the low buzz of a dozen conversations coming from a large room that was helpfully labeled as the processing plant, and as if he belonged there, Kenobi stepped inside.

There were perhaps only fifty people within the room, but they all noticed the second he entered, and within moments, fifty weapons were trained on the Sith Lord, and he couldn't help but smile in delight as he faced down the warriors, each and every one of them clad in blue and white Mandalorian armor, the symbol of the Death Watch emblazoned on their shoulders. He raised his hands in surrender when he heard the high whine of the blasters as they were primed for fire.

"I don't recommend doing something so foolish as opening fire on me," he said smoothly, barely able to keep the laughter out of his voice. One of the warriors stepped forward, his weapon raised.

"Who are you, and why are you here?" he demanded, and Obi-Wan's sharp eyes followed soldiers as they ran along the upper catwalks of the processing plant to surround him.

"I'm the Negotiator," Kenobi said, his smile showing from under the shadows of his hood, and the man that had stepped forward lowered his weapon.

" _The_ Negotiator?" the man repeated, and the Sith nodded. "As in, Obi-Wan Kenobi, the Separatist leader?"

"Do you know of another Negotiator?" he asked, chuckling softly as blasters were lowered and he heard the dull whine of the charges powering down as the tension in the room dissipated. They were not expecting him, obviously, but like expected, it seemed that Death Watch was familiar with the Separatists. "I'm hear to speak with your leader."

"He is not in the compound." Kenobi frowned. That seemed to lend credence to the idea that Vizsla was the leader around here.

"Your second in command, then. And be quick about it." The soldier seemed to bristle, but he swiftly turned to the soldiers behind him.

"Jor'chaajir cuun alor bal rejorhaa'ir tion'ad cuyir olar," he barked, and the soldiers nodded. "Slanar ve'ganir te vod." The Mandalorians scattered, and Kenobi pulled back his hood, staring straight ahead and feigning a lack of understanding. They were contacting their leader to inform him of the new arrival, and they were summoning the second in command. If Vizsla was in charge here, Obi-Wan would hear about it from Qui-Gon very, very soon. "You are..." the guard stated, looking the Sith Lord over, "far younger than I would have thought you'd be, my Lord."

Lord was good, it denoted respect, so the Separatists were held in high regard. Kenobi felt himself boil. The Separatist Council didn't actually know about his involvement in Mandalore, and if they did, they didn't show it. If they did, they would have known to stay far, _far_ away. This could have been a simple mistake, one of the fools among Separatist leadership simply overreaching his bounds to grab at an easy target. They'd have to be punished, of course, but it didn't need to be prolonged.

"Yes, I get that a lot." He didn't want to speak to this cretin. Moving his fingers at his side and calling on the Force, he said, "Leave me, and tell your friends to do the same. I'll only speak to your leaders." The soldier stiffened, stood still for a moment, and then dragged his feet away, ordering the soldiers to follow him, and slowly, the space was cleared, the soldiers departing to the far side of the massive complex to give the Sith the space he required. Kenobi put his earpiece in and tapped the comlink on his wrist, and Qui-Gon picked up immediately.

"I was about to contact you," the Jedi whispered. "Vizsla just left in a hurry, he said he had urgent business."

Kenobi scoffed, keeping his voice low, looking to the soldiers to be certain he was not heard. "How careless. This Death Watch of his won't last long. Honestly, allowing a Jedi Master to be alone in his home..."

"Oh, is this the part where we joke about the bad situation? You know things only get worse when we do that."

"The urgent business is me. I believe that confirms our theory. Snoop around and see what you can find."

"Can you handle them on your own?" the Jedi asked, and Kenobi chuckled quietly.

"Qui-Gon Jinn, I am in no danger here. I'll transfer the coordinates of my location to your com, come to me when you are done with your investigation." He shut off the com before Qui-Gon could answer when a woman with shoulder-length red hair quickly walked toward him, a helmet tucked under her arm. She stopped before him, her green eyes narrowed as she examined him, and she frowned.

"How did you manage to fool my men, Jedi?" she asked, her voice harsh, and Obi-Wan looked at her in surprise. Did this woman have the Force? He didn't sense a command of the Force from her, so how? His stunned silence allowed her to easily read him, and she snapped, "The Mandalorian Civil War had two Jedi aiding Satine Kryze, Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi. That's _you_ , so I'll ask you again one more time." Her hands fell to the twin blasters at her hip and Kenobi couldn't help but grin. He liked this woman.

"That was me, yes, but I am obviously no longer a Jedi, since I fight against them now." He rolled his eyes. "Honestly, do pay attention."

"I don't deal with flippant fools," the woman growled, and Kenobi felt his patience thinning.

"Have I done something to offend you."

"Yes."

He hadn't expected an answer so quick and so final. "May I ask what?"

She crossed her arms over her chest, her hands leaving her weapons. "I'm Bo-Katan Kryze. Duchess Satine is my sister, and she _never_ stopped talking about you after the war." Despite himself, Kenobi couldn't help himself from grinning, and the woman's mouth turned up in a sneer of disgust. "If it weren't for you, our people would still have their culture in tact! And now you _dare_ join the opposition!" She scoffed. "Oh, if only she could see you now!"

"How does a fanatical pacifist have a warrior for a sister?" He didn't even know Satine _had_ a sister. This may have been a rift too big to bridge, especially since Bo-Katan had joined with a group that seemed intent on killing Mandalore's ruler.

"The better question is how a good, powerful Mandalorian family came produce such a disgrace as Satine!"

"Bo, that's enough!" The voice came from behind the Sith, and he looked over his shoulder to see Pre Vizsla enter, Mandalorian armor on his body, a jetpack on his back, weapons at his hip, but without his helmet. He quickly took Obi-Wan's hand and shook it. Bo-Katan glared at them both. "I'm surprised that the Separatists would send someone so soon."

Kenobi shrugged. "I happened to be available, and we wanted to be certain that you are able to accomplish what you have set out to do."

"We can't trust him, Vizsla!" the redhead growled, but the man quickly silenced her with a vicious glare.

"I apologize for my subordinate..."

Kenobi smiled. "I appreciate a healthy amount of skepticism. Besides, she seems to know me from my time as a Jedi."

Vizsla nodded. "I looked you up on my way here. Your record is...impressive."

Kenobi bowed, smiling. "I do my best. Tell me about your plan, I'll see if I can't apply my expertise to help you achieve your goals, as we have promised."

"As you know, we don't have the numbers to support a hostile takeover of Mandalore, or we would have already."

Kenobi smiled softly. "It's so hard to get good help these days..."

"We need the support of the people, which means we have to turn them against Satine so her execution will be welcomed." Obi-Wan wore a mask of indifference as he allowed the Dark Side to feed on his emotions, the beast roaring to life and snarling and lusting for blood. It had to be controlled. He would heed the will of the Force, but he would exert dominion over the Dark Side when it sought to overtake him. "Originally, we had believed that the Separatists would simply support the overthrow of the Duchess, but..."

Kenobi smirked. "Outward show of force not so easy as you had hoped?"

Vizsla shook his head. "No, it was too brazen. And the people of Mandalore would never support us if the droid army just marched in. It would make us seem weak for needing _you_."

"But you _do_ need us," Kenobi said pleasantly, smiling as he did, and Vizsla's eye twitched in irritation.

" _Yes_ , we do need the aid...we aren't afraid to ask for help, and it seems you don't object to giving it, since we have promised you Mandalorian warriors to add to your cause." Obi-Wan almost laughed out loud. He _had_ Mandalorian warriors, better than this sorry lot could ever be. He sized the Death Watch leader up and concluded that Cody could have easily taken him. The Sith waved his hand for the man to continue. "The plan now has been to get the Republic to come to Mandalore first when their weak regime fails to contain our threat. With a Republic invasion, the people will leave Satine and come to us."

"Which is where I come in," Kenobi said. He had a grasp on the situation now, and a growing hatred in the pit of his stomach. This plan was too complicated, too political to be the workings of anyone in the Separatist government but _one_. "This plan is rife with problems. All this will fail if the Republic doesn't send aid."

"There is a Jedi here right now investigating," Vizsla said proudly. "They have taken notice."

"And it will still fail if the Senate doesn't elect to send troops, and you know the Duchess will argue against such a motion."

"She'll never get to Coruscant to do that," Vizsla said, a superior smile on his face. "And Senator Merrik has been working closely with Death Watch for a long time. He'll plea to the Senate to send aid to Mandalore to help them deal with the insurgency. Dooku promised us that we will have Mandalore, and with this plan, we will."

That was all he needed. Kenobi's golden eyes began to burn with violence, a change so severe from his previous calm that even the Force insensitive Vizsla noticed and took a step back. "I think there's something you failed to take into account," Kenobi said smoothly, drawing closer to the Death Watch leader and his second in command. "What if Mandalore is protected?"

"It's not! Those pacifists won't raise a hand against us!"

"You're right about that," Kenobi chuckled. "But I will."

Bo-Katan and Vizsla fell to the ground in an instant, both of them screaming in agony as Obi-Wan let loose the Dark Side, and it tore through their bodies, setting every nerve within them on fire. The rest of the soldiers in the compound came rushing to aid their leaders, but as they drew close, they too were affected by the searing torture that the Dark Side wrought. A few soldiers tried to shoot at the Sith Lord from a distance, but found it a pointless endeavor when a red, glowing blade appeared in his hand and carelessly deflected every bolt back at the shooter.

"Oh no!" the Sith gasped in mock surprise, calling the darkness back to him and leaving the two leaders crippled and gasping on the ground before him. The Death Watch slowly advanced, weapons raised, but seeing their leaders in peril made them err on the side of caution instead of acting rashly. "What happened! Could it be that Mandalore _is_ protected?" He laughed, pointing the humming blade at Bo-Katan. "You should have listened to her, Vizsla, she's smarter than you."

Bo-Katan gnashed her teeth together as she fought through the pain to rise, her hands grasping for her weapons only to find them torn from their holsters with a wave of the Sith's hand. " _You_ protect my sister still?"

"Oh yes."

The younger Kryze smiled wickedly. "I was always led to believe that it was her dashing young Jedi protector that ravaged her and made her a woman." The Sith's cocky grin confirmed it. "You'd think she'd be less uptight having a creature like you inside her."

"It's a process."

Her eyes narrowed in anger. "She would never approve of this! Satine would sit on her hands and do _nothing_!"

Kenobi allowed a sly smirk to cross his face. "You're right. But that will change. _She_ will change when she hears I have solved all her problems without killing a single one of you. Don't ask me how I know. I can just _feel it._ "

Vizsla staggered to his feet and reached behind him, grabbing at the hilt of a weapon lodged between his back and the jetpack he wore and he thrust it before him, a black, humming blade extending from the dark metal hilt, and Kenobi eyed the weapon with envy. "Dooku promised-"

"Dooku _knows_ that I guard Mandalore," Kenobi said, cruel amusement dripping off his every word. "He knows I'm in the Duchess' bed, and he knows what I will do to those that touch what's mine. Satine may sit on the throne, but _I_ am what allows her world to exist. Now, why he would pit you against me is something I will never understand. I'll be certain to ask him the next time I see him, which will be _very_ soon, I imagine."

"So if I kill you, Mandalore will be defenseless!" he shouted, the blade in his hands not humming as a lightsaber did, but seeming to almost whistle as it moved through the air. "This blade was stolen by my ancestors from the Jedi Temple. Hundreds of Jedi have died upon it."

Obi-Wan laughed loudly at that. "I'm no Jedi."

"Than it will be even easier," Vizsla laughed, swinging the saber before him. "If you're Satine's warrior, you should be no challenge. It will be so _sweet_ to tell her how I killed her lover right before I kill her."

"Mm, keep talking, Vizsla, I like it." He didn't. The Death Watch leader jumped at the Sith, blade raised and aided by his jetpack, and the sabers clashed, a thrill running through Kenobi when the black bladed weapon struck his own. He needed that lightsaber. Vizsla was fast, but not nearly fast enough. Without the Force to protect him, aid him, guide him, he was simply a child shaking a stick at a master swordsman. Kenobi effortlessly blocked each strike, each arching slash, each stab, and after a short while, he let one hand hold the weapon, the other carelessly running through his hair. His disinterest enraged Vizsla, and with a feral scream, he increased the pace, changing up the speed and ferocity of the attack. Kenobi rolled his eyes.

"You fight against the inevitable, Vizsla. Drop your weapon and submit." But he wouldn't. Angered further, the man attacked harder, throwing all his effort and strength into his heavy blows, and Kenobi grinned wickedly as the Dark Side feasted on the aggression, the emotions of hatred and rage, syphoning them off the Mandalorian and feeding the energy back to the Sith Lord to replenish him and bolster his own powers. The Force draining his energy, Vizsla began to slow, and with the weakening of their leader, the Death Watch moved in, blasters raised and beginning to fire. With a growl, Obi-Wan allowed the Force to take hold, his red lightsaber moving at a blinding speed to deflect both the bullets and the blade, and he grabbed the commander with the Force to move him before a barrage of blaster fire, and when Vizsla screamed in pain, the shooting stopped. The moment of shock was enough for Obi-Wan to reach out with the Force and pull the Death Watch to their knees, the weapons ripped from their hands and flying to a pile at Kenobi's feet, and slowly, the Mandalorians began to prostrate themselves upon the ground and catwalks on which they once stood.

A moment later and Vizsla was back on his feet, clutching the shoulder where he was shot, but the black weapon still clutched in his hand. "What did you do?" he gasped through his tired wheezing, and Kenobi just smiled, rising his hand, and Bo-Katan clutched at her throat, gasping and writhing as she was raised into the air. Vizsla's eyes widened, and Obi-Wan couldn't help but wonder if the leader of Death Watch also loved a Kryze woman.

"I didn't do anything," Kenobi said defensively. "But the Force may be preventing your men's involvement. Now, at any time I like, I could change that. I could make them suffer like they never had. I could ruin their minds with a thought. It's so _easy_ to break a person."

Vizsla swallowed hard, glaring at the Sith, but his focus kept drifting to the gasping, coughing Bo-Katan, bloody trails running down her throat as she attempted to claw the invisible grip away. "What do you want."

"I want to renegotiate your agreement with the Separatists. You're going to give up your designs for Mandalore. It will remain under the control of the New Mandalorians, they will maintain their peaceful ways, and _I_ will continue to protect that peace."

"That is _never_ going to happen!" Vizsla shouted, raising his saber again and slashing at the Sith, and, rolling his eyes, Obi-Wan effortlessly deflected each blow, his other hand waving in the air and tossing Bo-Katan to the side with such force that the support pole she struck bent with the impact. He reached out with the Force and gripped Vizsla's mind, and the man's eyes widened, his body instantly shaking as he was brought to his knees.

"Do you feel that?" Obi-Wan whispered, wiggling his fingers in the air, and Vizsla swore that he could feel the man's digits wriggling deeper within his head, his eyes rolling back as darkness snaked through him, leaving him feeling as though there were worms in his brain. "That's _me_. I'm doing this. Look up, Vizsla, look at your men..." Shaking, the Death Watch leader did as he was told, looking up and around him to see the Mandalorians, their helmet's removed, clinging to the rails of the catwalks, on their hands and knees in the dust on the ground, all looking at him unable to move as the Sith toyed with him. In their eyes, Vizsla could see fear.

"Let me explain what's going to happen," Kenobi said, loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. "I'm going to break you, Vizsla. Irrevocably. And when I'm done with you, you're going to bow before me, you're going to call me Master, you're going to give me that blade of yours as a gift of tribute, and you will _never_ wish to venture to Mandalore again, because _I_ am there." Obi-Wan grinned. "My Satine may be peaceful, but I am not, and if you think anyone can save you if you cross me, you are terribly mistaken."

Pre Vizsla didn't get a chance to respond before the torture began, the Force bending to the Sith's will to make his blood boil, his muscles convulse, his mind betray him as flashes of his worst fears, his worst memories plagued him, and each second made the agony more intense, the fear more tangible. He felt everything that made him Mandalorian ripped from him, his pride, his honor, the Resol'nare, the sacred tenants of the warrior Mandalorians torn from his mind and replaced with fear and submission and cowardice in the face of the dark creature that stood before him. It lasted far longer than Kenobi had thought it would, but eventually, the screaming slowly stopped, dying to a low whimper and then hapless sobbing as Vizsla quietly began to beg for mercy.

Kenobi laughed harshly. "As I have told thousands before you, and _will_ tell thousands more, _begging doesn't work_. You know how to get me to stop. You know what I want." He released some of the pressure on the man, the Dark Side snarling in anticipation for renewing its efforts, and Vizsla scrambled to his knees, panic aiding speed to his movements, and he brought his forehead to the ground, Obi-Wan breathing deep as he felt the fear build within the Death Watch as their once proud leader genuflected.

"Master, please..." Vizsla whimpered, rising his body just enough to hold the deactivated blade out toward the Sith. He flinched when Kenobi approached, shutting his eyes tight and turning his head away when the Sith wrapped his long fingers around the hilt and took it from the Mandalorian's willing hands.

"You, Pre Vizsla," Obi-Wan said, his voice smooth and mocking, "are dar'manda." The man winced, a helpless sob torn from him as he bowed his head an accepted the truth of it. It was the worst thing a warrior Mandalorian could have been, a child of Mandalore that had lost his culture, his identity, his soul. "You know it. Your people know it." The Sith Lord laughed harshly as he deactivated his own red blade and clipped both weapons to his belt. He looked over his shoulder when he felt Qui-Gon Jinn's presence slowly enter the room, but it was barely perceptible through the thickness of the Dark Side.

The Jedi nearly recoiled, overwhelmed by the suffering and the terror of the Death Watch, but despite the strong pull of the Dark Side, he felt no death. "Is everything alright?" Qui-Gon asked softly, not drawing further into the room.

"Yes. I have a gift for you." The Jedi did recoil at that, sensing the Sith Lord's sinister intent. "Senator Tal Merrik is an agent of the Death Watch. I'm going to allow you to bring him into Republic custody. Will that satisfy your investigation?"

Qui-Gon was silent for a moment. "I feel that will serve as a satisfactory explanation for what has happened here. This was, after all, simply a Mandalorian problem."

"I'm so pleased you agree." Kenobi's hand shot out to grab Vizsla's short hair, and the man began to shake in terror. "I'm not going to kill you, _boy_. You're going to live for a long, long time so that any of your warriors that gets the urge to take Mandalore can look to you. And you, my pet, are going to remind them why that's such a terrible idea." He smiled in unrestrained, sinister joy. "If a single one of you sets foot on Mandalore again, each and every one of Death Watch will be forced from your lair and imprisoned on my ship, and they will _all_ suffer your fate, but worse, because it will _never end_."

"Please, Master, no..." Vizsla whimpered pitifully, and Kenobi patted his cheek.

"Well, you know how to keep that from happening, pet. "But between you and me..." he purred, leaning down to Vizsla's ear, a hand in his hair keeping the frantic man from moving. "I _do_ hope one of you is foolish enough to try to defy me. I can never have too many slaves to service my whims..."

The Death Watch's leader began renewed sobbing, and Kenobi stood, his blazing, golden eyes carefully looking over the rest of the Death Watch, and he felt nothing but terror from the warriors. With a pleased smirk on his face, he turned and walked toward the Jedi. "Come, Qui-Gon," the Sith said quietly. "There is still much work to be done."


	50. Reconciliation

When they had left the Death Watch compound, Qui-Gon could feel panic from his companion through the thick feel of the Dark Side. Kenobi was satisfied, yes, overcome with the powerful grip of his unqualified victory over his enemies, but Qui-Gon sensed his concern for the woman he had left behind. He wasn't _afraid_. Qui-Gon was uncertain that Obi-Wan could even feel fear anymore. But there was undeniable worry, an urgency in his actions when he jumped onto the speeder and pushed it recklessly at top speeds across the rocky terrain. Qui-Gon only just managed to keep sight of him on the back of his own speeder. Obi-Wan had always been a more talented pilot than him, and the years certainly didn't change that.

When the Jedi returned to the hanger, the transport ship they had arrived in had been powered on, the engines emitting a high-pitched whine as the systems were primed, and Qui-Gon had to jump off the speeder, leaving it to sit idling, and rushed up the ramp just as it began to close. The doors to the cockpit, sealed when they had come to Concordia, now was wide open, molten metal running along the large, circular cut in the thick steel, the discarded remains of the door laying halved in the hallway, and the droids that flew the ship were scattered in pieces about the floor. Qui-Gon carefully made his way down the hall, stepping over the scrapped metal and molten pools that now burned small holes into the durasteel before it cooled, and grabbed the back of the pilot's seat where Obi-Wan sat when the ship rocked as it lifted into the air.

"Was all this necessary?" the Jedi asked, indicating back toward the hallway, and with a soft growl in his chest, Obi-Wan pushed the accelerator to maximum speed, the burning thrust of the engines scorching the hanger as they left, and Qui-Gon could see smoke rising from the wide open doors when the ship circled around and aimed toward Mandalore.

"The droids insisted I did not have clearance to enter the cockpit," the Sith said, his voice cool and even, seeming to calm as he sat at the helm of a ship, and Qui-Gon couldn't help but smile softly. In this respect, Obi-Wan was quite a bit like Anakin.

"Well, do you?"

The Sith's hand clenched the yoke tightly. "I don't need clearance to go anywhere I want. Droids have no right to deny me anything."

"Ah, of course." His long fingers tapped on the back of the seat as the Sith Lord forced the ship through space at top speed, the cockpit humming with the sound of the engines and the whine of the overworked thrusters. "Are you concerned about Satine?"

"Why should I be concerned for her?"

The Sith was feigning indifference, that much was obvious. As before, the Jedi couldn't feel Kenobi's presence in the Force, but he didn't need to in order to see what his former Padawan felt. After all, he had so often looked like this many years ago when they first had come to Mandalore. "Because she is in the palace with Senator Merrik and she trusts him."

"Yes, well, that woman is in the habit of trusting all the wrong people, isn't she!" the Sith snarled, pressing the accelerator and the yoke so far forward that the metal connectors seemed to groan, objecting to Kenobi's will to spur the ship even faster. "Tal Merrik, Pre Vizsla...I wonder if Prime Minister Almec is in on this as well, she has staffed her entire court with people that want to witness her downfall!"

"The Mandalorians have a history of violence," the Jedi said softly, much kinder than the Sith had been anticipating. "It takes generations to change a culture, it cannot be done in the span of years, but centuries. She has done very well in the short term, though."

"Maybe so, but it's just given her enemies time to regroup and form a plan to depose her." Obi-Wan ran a hand through his hair. "I should have done something sooner, I _never_ should have complied with her desires in this matter."

"Lesson learned, then?" Qui-Gon asked, and Kenobi turned to finally look at the man, gold eyes narrowed in confusion and searching the Jedi's face to seek his intentions.

"Yes..." he said slowly, lightly brushing the Force against the Jedi's guarded mind, but careful not to get too close. It almost seemed like Qui-Gon _agreed_ with him. "I don't understand," the Sith mumbled. "The Jedi don't feel this way. Has the war changed your beliefs so much?"

"Would you rather me condemn your actions as atrocities? Is that what makes you feel like a Sith, knowing that what you do is an affront to life itself?"

" _That_ isn't what makes me Sith," Kenobi growled, returning his attention to the viewport, the planet quickly growing larger as they drew near. "Besides, what I did today wasn't wrong, or evil, or whatever it is that you Jedi seem so likely to believe about such things. I did what was best for what is mine."

Qui-Gon nodded. "I agree." Those golden eyes shot to him again, wide and disbelieving, and the old Master laughed. "What? You are no Jedi, Obi-Wan, it is foolish to hold you to the code that we adhere to. The Jedi have always sought to be understanding and compassionate, and we don't blame the people in this galaxy for acting out of emotion. Why should I think any differently of you?"

"...you're trying to sway me. It won't work."

Qui-Gon scoffed. "You are lost to the Jedi, Obi-Wan, there is nothing to sway. And you didn't kill anyone today, which is more than I could have asked for." The Sith said nothing, only grit his teeth and looked out the viewport, hands tightly on the shuttle's controls. "Do you love her?"

"I cannot believe we are having this conversation..." He closed his eyes and took deep, calming breaths, and Qui-Gon felt the Force twisting and turning in a conflict of emotions, all of them intense and all of them complicated. He had his answer. "I have no interest in telling you, in any case. The only thing that matters now is getting to the heart of the problem and burning it. What did you find in Vizsla's home?"

"Nothing much. There may be two other Death Watch compounds on Zanbar and Carlac."

Kenobi tucked the names away for later. He'd need to make certain he visited those planets soon. They entered Mandalore's atmosphere at a speed far too fast to be safe, the ship howling through the night sky as it raced toward domed, distant Sundari.

"What you found is inconsequential," the Sith whispered. "If there are traitors among her, I will seek them out and they will be destroyed."

"She is lucky to have you, Obi-Wan."

The Sith Lord laughed bitterly. "I doubt she feels the same." Qui-Gon didn't know what to say to that, so he remained silent, the lights on the command console flashing and beeping as they were given access to enter the city. Obi-Wan overrode the ship's autopilot when it engaged to bring him into the port, and he flew the shuttle around to the palace against the wishes of flight control, who demanded he return to his authorized course. Pressing forward despite warnings coming in over the com, Kenobi brought the ship to the royal hanger, watching the guards through the viewport gather around the ship with weapons drawn and ready to fire. Qui-Gon sighed.

"You do like to make an entrance, don't you."

"I like to make haste. It isn't my fault that haste usually foregoes subtlety." Without powering the ship down, Kenobi jumped from his seat, flicking his hand in the air and the scattered scrap from the broken droids and doors went flying down a short, branching hall. He slammed his fist into the console on the wall and the landing ramp extended. The Sith pulled his hood over his head and motioned for the Jedi to exit first, Qui-Gon sighing as he did as Kenobi asked. The guards that circled the ship lowered their weapons when they saw the Jedi Master, looking at their commander in confusion when Qui-Gon tucked his arms into the sleeves of his cloak and bowed.

"I apologize for the entrance," the Jedi said, a small smile on his lips. "I'm afraid I have urgent need to meet with Duchess Satine as quickly as possible. Can you direct me to where she would be?"

"We don't need them..." Obi-Wan whispered as he passed the Jedi, the guards swiftly moving out of the hooded man's way, and Qui-Gon followed, shooting a sheepish, apologetic look to the guards.

"You could stand to be polite, Obi-Wan," the Jedi softly admonished, chuckling when the Sith beside him cursed under his breath at him in Mando'a. "You cannot possibly believe that she is in any danger, Merrik has been living beside her for years."

"He's Mandalorian, that makes him dangerous enough," he muttered, climbing a long staircase two steps at a time and leading the Jedi toward Satine's personal quarters. "And the thought of him near her makes my skin crawl. I'll need to be rid of him." Qui-Gon couldn't argue with that. They walked in swift silence the rest of the short way and stopped outside of large, ornate doors, the Sith punching in the code that made them hiss as they slid open, and the two men walked in, stopping when they saw Satine Kryze and Tal Merrik seated at the long table in the room, quietly discussing matters of state. Qui-Gon felt the change in the Force as Kenobi grinned from underneath his hood.

"A little late for business, isn't it?" Obi-Wan drawled, and both Mandalorians stood, Satine looking at the Jedi, pleased and hopeful, and Merrik looking on cautiously.

"I thought we wouldn't be disturbed, Duchess..." the Senator started, and Kenobi just laughed, pulling back his hood and grinning when Merrik visibly recoiled.

"Oh, nothing can keep me from you, my friend!" the Sith hissed, slowly creeping closer to the Senator, and Merrik moved around the table to stand near Satine, as though she may somehow protect him. "You and I, Merrik...we have _business_."

The Senator's green eyes darted between Satine and Kenobi, a mix of confusion and anger on the Duchess' face, and Merrik gasped, looking at Satine in betrayal. " _That's_ the Negotiator," the man said, breathless and pointing to the smirking Sith Lord. "Satine, I...I didn't think the rumors in the Senate were true, but..."

" _What_?!" The Duchess reeled on him, her hands balled into fists. "Tal, you _know_ I have no business with the Confederacy."

"But _that_ is a Separatist agent, and he could get into your personal chambers, so-"

"Were you listening, Merrik?" Kenobi asked. "I'm here for _you_. Sit, I think your Duchess will be _very_ interested in hearing our arrangement." He smiled when the Senator didn't sit. "I _really_ don't like having my name attached to things that are not my doing, and your plans to expose the Mandalorian government in league with mine..." Obi-Wan whistled, chuckling as the Senator took a step back. "Well, that's just bad business."

"I-I don't know what you're talking about..."

"Oh, _stop it_ , feigning ignorance isn't going to save you. Did you think that it would somehow benefit you to frame the Separatists for your plans to overthrow the Mandalorian government?"

Merrik stuttered, and the Duchess turned to him, eyes wide and chest tight. "Tal, what is he talking about?"

"I-I don't know, Duchess..."

Kenobi rolled his eyes and drew the weapon at his belt, the black blade humming as it was ignited, and Merrik's eyes widened in recognition, the Sith grinning when he felt the man begin to panic. "Pre Vizsla and the Death Watch sends their regards." The Senator moved faster than Kenobi expected, his hand reaching out to grab Satine's arm and roughly pulled her against him, one arm around her thin neck as he drew a blaster from behind him and pointed the barrel at the woman's head. Satine gripped his arm, trying to loosen the tight hold, but stopped struggling when she heard the weapon charge, her blue eyes wide with fear. Qui-Gon's jaw clenched, hand coming to rest on the lightsaber at his belt, but Obi-Wan just rolled his eyes.

"You really aren't thinking this through," the Sith sighed, and the Senator's face contorted with rage and fear.

"We had a _deal_ ," Merrik snarled, arm tightening around Satine's throat. Obi-Wan shrugged.

"Oh, no, no, your deal wasn't with me, and what I want should be all that matters to you right now. And as far as I'm concerned, the deal has been renegotiated." Kenobi laughed. "They don't call me the Negotiator for nothing."

"We should really save the Duchess before you begin _bantering_ ," Qui-Gon whispered, eyes never leaving the Senator and his hostage, and with a sigh, Obi-Wan held up his hand, the blaster pulled from Merrik's grasp and sent flying out the open doors to the balcony. Disarmed, Merrik's arm tightened around the Duchess, using her as a shield, but he was forced to let go when he felt himself being held by the throat as well. Wheezing, he dropped to his knees, grasping at his neck to relieve the pressure that held him, but nothing was there. He looked up in desperation to find Satine safely in the Jedi's arms, and the Negotiator kneeling before him, an easy smile on his face, and Merrik's labored breathing ceased as his throat was completely closed off. It didn't take long for the man to cease his struggling, his violently kicking legs going still as he faded into unconsciousness. When he was still, Kenobi let go, the tense body falling limp as the Sith Lord stood.

"This is what your blind trust has brought you, Satine," Kenobi growled, pointing at the Senator. "You are _surrounded_ by traitors and people that mean to overthrow you." His words were much harsher than intended, and when the Duchess said nothing, her entire form shaking in fear and emotion, Obi-Wan softened considerably. "I've managed your Death Watch problem. You won't be seeing them again."

"Did you kill them?" she asked, her voice soft and distant, and Qui-Gon could feel the Sith's anger flare. He held the Duchess closer to him.

"Obi-Wan didn't kill anyone," the Jedi said quietly. "But he did send a powerful message that Mandalore and your government are protected."

"Like I should have done a long time ago!" the Sith Lord snapped, his anger getting the better of him, and Qui-Gon felt that not all of it was because of the situation. "If I knew about Death Watch, Satine, if you told me, than I could have ended this threat before it became serious!"

"I didn't want you to kill anyone! And this was a Mandalorian problem, it didn't concern you!"

"Of course it concerns me, Mandalore is my _home, Satine_ , and you!" he growled. "You mean something to me!" Obi-Wan laughed harshly. "Without trust, there can be no love, and you haven't trusted me for a _long_ time. And _don't_ say this is because of what I did to you, you didn't trust me long before that! If you did, you would have told me about the threats to your rule."

Qui-Gon carefully held the Duchess to him when he felt the woman tremble, and she quickly buried her face into the folds of his robe. "We've solved the threat before it escalated, Obi-Wan. We can put it behind us now."

"Maybe you can, Jedi, but my work's just begun." He groaned loudly, running his hands over his face and through his hair. "I know I said I'd give you Merrik to bring back to the Senate, but I'm going to need him to make my interrogation of Satine's court easier."

Qui-Gon nodded. "Of course. Whatever you need."

Kenobi groaned as he looked at the unconscious Merrik. "It shouldn't take me long. Vizsla didn't mention anything about any others, but that doesn't mean they don't exist."

"Vizsla betrayed me as well?" the Duchess asked softly, her voice tight and strained, and the Sith's furious golden gaze fell on her.

"Oh yes, he _leads_ the Death Watch, but he's been dealt with." Kenobi bowed mockingly. " _You're welcome, your Highness._ " He sighed heavily, his anger growing. "And then there's the matter of Dooku." Qui-Gon eyed the Sith Lord curiously, but said nothing. "He _knows_ about me and Satine, why would he do this..." He shook his head. "It doesn't make any sense. Mandalore has no use to him. I thought he and I had an arrangement..."

Qui-Gon smiled softly. "Misplacing your trust, Obi-Wan?"

The Sith Lord laughed at that. "I never trusted Dooku, this isn't a matter of trust, it's a matter of convenience."

"It is convenient for him to betray you like this?"

Obi-Wan shook his head. "He betrayed me before this. We had come to a mutually beneficial arrangement, and we had agreed to keep it between us, which he, of course, didn't. But _this_..." Obi-Wan closed his eyes and centered himself, and the Jedi could feel the man opening himself up to the Force, letting it be drawn to him and flow unrestricted through him. "I don't treasure much, but I do treasure Satine. This is a personal attack, and he's going to suffer for it."

"Obi-Wan, if you kill Dooku-"

Kenobi rolled his eyes. "There are things worse than death, Jedi, and Dooku's going to experience all of them. _Nobody_ messes with my things." Merrik groaned on the ground as consciousness slowly returned to him, and the Sith Lord roughly pulled him to his feet. "When I get back from dealing with this scum, I'm going to sleep so I can leave here early in the morning for Raxus. The Separatist Council and I need to come to an understanding." Dragging the dazed Senator behind him, Kenobi left the room, the doors hissing closed and leaving the Jedi and the Duchess in silence.

Quinlan Vos had been right. Obi-Wan could be reasoned with, and what's more, it seemed he could be convinced to turn on his allies, which turned out weren't allies at all. The man seemed to have no feelings of loyalty toward the Separatists at all, so why fight beside them? Dooku seemed to be in Kenobi's sights, and like the Jedi have been saying, the greatest enemy of the Sith were other Sith. He had hoped Obi-Wan would have mentioned his Master, or even alluded to the idea that the man existed, but Kenobi didn't get where he was by being careless. Still, it seemed obvious to Qui-Gon that Dooku may have had no reason to cross the younger Sith like this. The entire thing screamed of Sith machinations, and Qui-Gon was certain that his intelligent former Padawan came to the same conclusion. What's more, it seemed as though Obi-Wan was _listening_ to the Force, not attempting to exert his will upon it, and while he knew that Kenobi could not be saved, he was becoming more and more convinced that, like Anakin, the Force had singled Obi-Wan out for a greater purpose.

"He loves you," the Jedi finally said, and the woman in his arms tensed. "You must know that."

"...I know," she whispered, her hand balling tightly into his robes. "I just forgot how much."

* * *

It was several hours later when Obi-Wan threw himself onto the couch in the Duchess' living quarters and used the Force to grip one of the Sith holocrons, the pyramid glowing and rising into the air as it opened, the whispers of Ancient Sith seeping into him. He had quickly thrown Tal Merrik at Qui-Gon and left them without a word, his entire being focused on a singular task. He needed to deal with Dooku, but he was having trouble deciding on how to do it. Death was too easy, too common, and furthermore, Sidious had made it clear that Dooku was a necessity to the war effort, though Kenobi was beginning to doubt that, since the man was willing to fracture his necessary alliances for...what?

He frowned, shifting on the couch and sinking further into the Dark Side's grasp, clutched tightly in the claws of a snarling beast. Dooku was always cold, methodical and logical. He had taken a risk forming a tenuous alliance with Kenobi, and attacking him in this manner seemed reckless, even for a Sith Lord. This entire situation felt wrong. True, Obi-Wan himself had laid the groundwork for a personal mess, but it was possible much of Satine's aggravation had to deal with her struggles with a threat to her reign. Everything that had been happening felt like the influence of Darth Sidious. Sabotage wasn't something Dooku carelessly did. Obi-Wan breathed deeply of the Dark Side and sank into the embrace of the Force. What he did to the Count of Serenno had to send a message to not only the Separatists leaders, but to his Master as well. Darth Lumis, Lord of the Sith, was too dangerous to cross.

Nothing else mattered but this. The Force guided him in everything he did, which conflicted with the Sith Master's philosophy of bending the Force into submission, but Obi-Wan had always believed in a give and take. In order to achieve mastery, one must submit, and Sith did not easily bend. The lesson Sidious gave that had most stuck with Lumis was the idea that the Force would strike back. The Master's solution to this was to beat the Force into submission, but Obi-Wan had understood the folly of this. The Dark Side was not the only dangerous aspect of the Force. Just as one could find comfort in the dark, one could also feel pain in the light, as he had felt within Qui-Gon Jinn earlier that day. Sidious walked a dangerous path if he was attempting to manipulate the young Sith. Even now, Kenobi could feel the Force pulsing within him, and he could feel the pull of it not to murder Sidious, but to reel him in.

The Force favored the Sith in it's shift toward the darkness, and while Sidious was a necessary component to seeing the will of the Force come to pass, he also needed to understand that the favor could easily be lost, and Obi-Wan felt he was the instrument of that. The Jedi abandoned the Force by placing the will of politicians above the will of the Force, and with the Republic to command them, the Jedi effectively allowed the Force to be ruled by the Senate. It was this that was giving rise to the Dark Side, this that would fulfill the Sith Imperative and fulfill their revenge, and it was for this reason that the Jedi Order needed to be purged. They had abandoned the Force. They deserved no less. And in time, if Sidious was not mindful, if he reached too far, he would face the same fate.

A soft touch on his chest drew him out of his meditation and he opened his eyes to look impassively at his Duchess, the woman kneeling beside him. "May we talk?" she asked quietly.

"No."

Satine bit her lip and looked away, and Obi-Wan could feel her through the Force, calm and resigned and so unlike she had been recently. "May _I_ talk, then?"

"If you must..."

She nodded and exhaled in relief. "I have been thinking about what you have said. What you _have_ been saying. And you're right. I've been using words as a shield, and it's worked for some time, but...I need a sword as well."

Obi-Wan extended his hand and called the holocron to him, the glowing pyramid closing as it returned to the Sith. "You have changed your ideals?" he asked, incredulous.

"No, but..." The Duchess held her breath, and Kenobi ventured a quick look inside her mind and found it moving swiftly, but organized, devoid of the haphazard and confusing emotional turmoil of before. It would have been so very Jedi if her conviction hadn't been so very Sith. "I have been uncompromising and rigid and moralistic, and I...recognize that this is part of the reason you left the Jedi before. I will not lose you in the same way." She looked the Sith Lord over, her mouth a thin line. "...you can say something, you know."

"Oh no, you have _much_ more to say, yes?" She nodded. "Then please, continue. How did this change come about."

Her fingers drummed on his chest as she looked away. "You changed it," she said finally. "Qui-Gon said you subdued Death Watch without killing a single one of them. I may not agree with the methods I am certain you used but...I cannot argue with results, and you did in hours what my government could not do in months." She sighed and finally looked at him. "I was wrong about you when I said you have sacrificed nothing. I have been wrong about a great deal as of late." She laughed sadly. "I do not want to abandon my ideals. I want Mandalore to change. I want to remain neutral. I want my planet to have peace. And I will do _anything_ to make certain that is accomplished."

Kenobi held his breath when he felt the Dark Side grip the very heart of him. The Jedi had always said that the Sith deal in absolutes, but it simply wasn't true. The Jedi existed on a strict continuum where everything was neatly divided between good and evil, right and wrong, light and dark. They were a moral authority, and Sidious had often said that they held a monopoly on morality. The Sith, however, were far more fluid. Power was simply a means to an end, and that end was galactic strength, where the strong would enforce the rule over the weak, as it should be. However, the Sith had been forced to change in favor of subtlety and subterfuge, where it wasn't the strongest that ruled, but the most shrewd, the most clever, the ones that could bring beings under their sway and use them to further their ultimate goals, and Satine, _peaceful_ Satine, was exhibiting these traits right now. If managed properly, the Duchess could be not only an ally, but an accomplice.

"I have dealt with your enemies, Satine," he said carefully.

"There will be others. If I have learned anything from this, it's that the neutrality of my systems will not be respected. I can't even trust my own people! I was close to both Merrik and Pre Vizsla. If my closest allies could so easily betray me, others can as well." She ran her hand slowly across his chest, and his breath hitched as the Force gripped him tighter. "Is it true that you will be going after Dooku? Qui-Gon said you may."

"Dooku and the rest of them. I have a message to send about what it means to cross me."

"But you fight for them."

"Mm, they fight for me. I am not beholden to the Confederacy, I am beholden to the Sith."

Closing her eyes, Satine took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, looking at him again when she said, "Tell me again of the Sith. I will strive to understand better this time."

Obi-Wan was cautious, but those blue eyes seemed hungry for knowledge and understanding, much like he had once been as a Jedi when confronted with the overwhelming allure of the Dark Side. "The Sith," he began slowly, "are difficult to define. The order in the past has been one of violence and brute strength, but our extinction at the hands of the Jedi has forced us to change. We seek to reestablish order in the galaxy. The Republic is corrupt beyond repair. It's time to clear the slate and begin anew."

When the woman didn't say anything, he reached into her mind to assess her feelings, and for a moment, her body tensed when she felt his presence, only to relax a moment later when she accepted him within her. "That's not unlike what we did on Mandalore to put me into power."

"You're right. It's very similar. And _you_ , my dear," he said softly, taking her hand from his chest and intertwining their fingers. "You right now remind me _so_ much of myself when I left the Jedi Order. Betrayal by those close to you forces you to examine your ideals, hmm?"

"It does..." The Duchess climbed up onto the couch with the Sith Lord, her thin, pale legs straddling his hips, and Kenobi felt the Dark Side settle within him and fill him with longing and desire, and for the first time since this whole mess began, he felt centered and focused. "I thought about what you said about your powers, and if I had them..."

"Did you now..."

"I would use them," she whispered, and Kenobi felt shame and longing within her. "All my ideals could be realized, all of them. All without death and violence and war, which is what I always wanted. Which is what you did with Death Watch, isn't it?"

"Not exactly. It wasn't mental manipulation, I needed a permanent solution." Obi-Wan ran a hand up her thigh, pushing the thin silk of her knee-length robe up over her hp. "I simply made them afraid of continuing their plans. I doubt you'd like it."

"Tell me."

He kissed her hand, looking at her cautiously, but he found the woman to be not only curious, but vindictive. Pre Vizsla's betrayal hurt her more than he realized. "I used the Force to break him."

"Did he suffer?"

"Oh yes."

"For long?"

"Longer than I anticipated. You Mandalorians are so hard to break." Obi-Wan frowned when she looked away for a moment, but he didn't feel any of her usual righteous indignation. "I know we are having trouble with trust, Satine-" She placed a long finger on his lips to silence him.

"I am willing to let go of your past transgressions if you let go of mine. We have both made mistakes, and..." A faint smirk came to her lips as she slowly rolled her hips, dragging a deep moan out of the Sith Lord, both his hands coming to rest on her waist. "I'm going to need my Sith Lord protector to maintain my peace."

"You're becoming devious, aren't you?"

"I did learn from you, Obi." She ran a hand along his jaw line. "I can overlook the things you do in this war to achieve your goals, and I want to help you if I can. If you are to be my partner in maintaining peace, I want to be your partner in achieving the goals of your Order."

"...do you mean that?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper, and the woman nodded. "Without the Force, that could be difficult," he said softly, absently stroking her leg. "But my Master always said that it's not only the Force sensitive that have a place in elevating the Sith Imperative.

"Your Master says a lot of things."

"He's _very_ wise, as he should be. He had the culminated knowledge and the power of a thousand years of Sith Lords. He says the way of the future isn't in brute strength, but in political acumen, and you have always been a shrewd and cunning politician." Obi-Wan's voice caught in his throat when Satine began slowly rolling her hips over his own, his passions quickly rising in a haze of lust and ambition. Betrayal and a swift, divisive solution to her problems had turned the unyielding Satine from a dreamer to a realist, the sharp intelligence and rhetoric she had employed to bring people to her way of thinking was suddenly repurposed toward keeping Mandalore safe, regardless of the cost. She still maintained her pacifist ideals, of course, but those ideals had transformed from the idealistic to the practical.

"Do you still desire to kill him?"

"N-no, I still have too much to learn from him." Satine gratefully stopped he movements, and the Sith Lord let out a shuddering breath. "If I am to be the Master of the Sith, I will need to know all he does, lest the knowledge be lost. And soon, the Sith Order will be resurrected in force, and there will be more Dark Side adepts than he can manage on his own. He will need me."

Kenobi moaned loudly when the Duchess began moving again. "Can we out-maneuver him politically?"

"I feel like that would be _very_ difficult." He grabbed her hips to still her, the Dark Side raging and howling to be loosed on the woman that was clearly goading him into ravishing her. "Is this your way to get me to leave the Sith?"

"Am I asking you to leave?"

"...no."

"If that is what you want, Obi-Wan, than I will love you as a Sith Lord." She smiled softly. "You learned my language. Will you teach me yours?"

"Ooh, my Master would _not_ approve of that."

"All the more reason to teach me," she muttered, leaning down to kiss him, and Kenobi finally realized what it was his Master had been trying to teach him for years. As Palpatine, the Sith had fostered strong ties and relationships, all without the power of the Force, all without manipulation and coercion, and it left him with allies that had come to him willingly, their loyalty strong and unshakable for having chosen his path for themselves. Beings like Mas Amedda, Sly Moore, and the Tarkins of Eriadu would stand by Sidious when he became emperor because they had chosen the path of the Sith, and now Satine Kryze willingly joined her will to the Sith. She wasn't just a lover now. She was an _ally_ , and that was more valuable than all their years together.

"I don't know how you can help yet," he muttered when they parted, face flushed and striving to keep the lustful Dark Side in some level of restraint. "But you are in a unique position to exert political sway over the Republic and the Confederacy. I shall have to meditate on it..."

"You meditate on everything." She slipped her hands under his robes, running her fingers over his bare skin, and the Sith Lord growled possessively, the golden eyes glowing as the Dark Side exerted control, but Satine was unafraid. "Will you raise Sith Lords when you are Master?"

"I will raise children," he responded quickly, wrapping his arm about her waist and flipping her over, his hands by her head and his knee insistently nudging her knees apart. "They will be strong in the Force, and yes, I will teach them the ways of the Dark Side, and when they are old enough, they will be Sith."

"...I didn't know you wanted children."

"I do..." he growled deeply. "A Mandalorian Sith Lord would be _fearsome_. It's an insult to the Sith line that it hasn't happened before."

"And you know your children will have the Force?"

"I'm given to understand that it's genetic."

The Duchess reached up and slid her hands along his shoulders, wriggling underneath him to allow him to fit comfortably between her legs. "I feel like there's no time like the present to begin that process."

Obi-Wan surrendered to the Dark Side and allowed it to draw the depths of its desires out of the woman beneath him. Early in the morning, he would be on the way to Raxus to establish his dominion over the Separatists Council, and he suspected that their submission to his will wouldn't be nearly as easy or willing as the Mandalorian's, but Kenobi doubted that the Dark Side would find it less pleasurable.


	51. The General

"Can you see anything, Snips?"

Ahsoka zoomed in with the macrobinoculars on the droid army that occupied Ryloth's capital, frowned, and with a sigh, she handed the device to Anakin. "If he's in there, I don't see him."

"Oh, he's in there..." Skywalker said softly. "When Master Vos returns from recon, we'll know exactly where he is and we can finally end this."

Republic victory was close at hand on Ryloth, though to Anakin, the victory had seemed almost too easy. Anakin was tasked with leading the assault in breaking the Separatist blockade, which he found marginally more difficult without Qui-Gon monitoring and guiding his actions. Luminara and Quinlan had done a respectable job, but Skywalker and Jinn worked as one, and there was just no substitute for that strong of a connection. Anakin was by far the best pilot the Republic had, and even then, the Separatist's held fast, seeming to learn their lesson from the Battle of Christophsis. Efforts to break through were met with droid bombers that made suicide runs on the Republic fleet, and faced with overwhelming odds, Skywalker had turned back to the _Resolute_ to call in for reenforcements. It's what Qui-Gon would have done.

It turned out to be the wise and prudent move, since Chancellor Palpatine was swift to dispatch a young and able captain by the name of Tarkin and his fleet to help break the siege, and his ruthless methods proved to be exactly the support that Skywalker needed to formulate an assault strong and swift enough to break through and get troops down planet-side. Tasking Captain Tarkin with breaking the Separatist hold around the planet, Anakin went with his fellow Jedi to liberate the Twi'leks.

After that, the combined might of the 501st and the Jedi that traveled with them made short work of the sea of droids that stood between them and the capital city of Lessu. Anakin had always been a force to be reckoned with, moving supernaturally fast, easily deflecting the shots fired at him, cutting down droids by the hundreds, but on that particular field of battle, it was Ahsoka Tano that had distinguished herself. Instead of cutting a wide path through hundreds of droids like Anakin favored, Ahsoka specifically targeted the command droids on the field, and when they fell, the droids that were linked to them became barely effective. The result was a close battlefield friendship between Skywalker and Tano, with Anakin cutting a path for Ahsoka to have easy access to the commanding units, and upon their fall, the two Padawans made short work of the droids that mindlessly acted without direction to guide them.

The other Jedi quickly adopted the tactic that Anakin and Ahsoka had developed, and in short order, the Separatist forces under the command of T-series Tactical droid were in retreat. The Republic quickly secured the entire southern hemisphere of Ryloth after that, and with momentum on their side, the Jedi pushed toward the cities of Lessu and Nabat, where the Separatists were said to have occupied and enslaved the native Twi'leks. It stopped being easy after that.

Upon arrival, Nabat was a ghost town, the entire city evacuated or worse, and despite their best efforts, the Jedi could find no trace of the Twi'leks or the Separatists. The city was close to Lessu, and it made for an ideal camp, but both the clones and the Jedi that led them felt as though they had failed. Barriss was especially effected, and spent a good deal of time to herself. Hundreds of innocent Twi'leks were gone in an instant, and the Jedi had been unable to save them. Regardless of the outcome, she felt that they had lost.

But Anakin would not be deterred. Nearby Lessu was teeming with droid activity, and they may have failed the people of Nabat, but they hadn't lost yet. There were thousands of people in the capital that would meet with a similar fate if the Republic didn't interfere, and Anakin was determined to succeed in this. What was even better was that the commander of the Separatist presence was Emir Wat Tambor, the foreman of the TechnoUnion and member of the Separatist Council. His capture would deal a major blow to the Separatists, and Anakin was intent on success. What's more, he had heard the Skakoan was arrogant and stubborn, and based on the state of abandoned Nabat, he seemed to employ something of a scorched earth policy when it came to conducting warfare, and this was something that Anakin had planned to use to trap him.

"So," Ahsoka said, sitting back behind the rocks that covered their lookout, "do we have a plan?"

"Not yet..." Anakin sighed, looking down on the city of Lessu. A great canyon surrounded the city like a moat, and large proton cannons had been erected along the city walls. Arriving by air simply wasn't an option, and the only way in or out of the city was a plasma bridge that spanned the length of the canyon and could be turned on or off at any time from a control center within the city. It was a major problem. "We need a way to cross that bridge. If we can get control of it, than our men can enter the city and the Separatists will have nowhere to go."

"Alright, but _how_."

"I'm still thinking of that, Snips," Anakin sighed, bringing the macrobinoculars to his eyes and surveying the scene.

"Could we starve them out?"

Anakin rolled his eyes. "Snips, they're _droids_. What on earth would we be starving them of? And besides, that would do more harm to the people in the city than to the Separatists. A siege could last indefinitely."

"...Master Qui-Gon would have a plan."

"Yeah, I know he would." He took a deep breath and lowered the macrobinoculars, feeling the Force flow within him, and Skywalker felt himself calm, all his doubt washed away in a breath of warmth and clarity. "On second thought, Snips, you might be on to something." He tapped the comlink on his wrist, the device projecting an image of a clone commander, and Anakin quickly demanded, "Get me Captain Tarkin." The clone saluted and disappeared from view, and a moment later, an irritated looking officer in a flight suit appeared. Anakin smiled. "Hello, Tarkin."

"Commander Skywalker, with all due respect, I happen to be busy breaking the Separatist fleet. I should like to return to it."

"How's that been going?"

Tarkin sighed. "The presence of the Munificent-class star frigates is a nuisance. They are well defended, faster than our ships of similar size, and they release vulture droids upon destruction. Quite frankly, it's a mess."

Anakin winced. He should have remained up there. "Do you have a plan."

Tarkin gave a derisive snort. "I always have a plan. We are sending the clones on attack runs against the frigates and sending them in teams of three to destroy the vultures when they are released. The Star Destroyers are being positioned to catch the bulk of the fleet between them so we may open fire. Our shields should be able to handle being caught in the crossfire for a time."

Anakin nodded. It's what he would have done as well. "Listen, there should be a Droid Control Ship up there." He made a circle with his arms. "Big circle looking thing with a round controlling body."

Tarkin gave the Jedi a deadpan look. "I _know_ what a Droid Control Ship is. _Sir_."

"Right, well, I need it destroyed."

The young commander rolled his eyes. "Skywalker, what do you suppose I have been doing up here? We have been unable to get close to it until recently, and I was just on my way to my ship to lead the attack run when _you_ called."

"Oh." Anakin flashed him a sheepish grin. "Well, sorry about that. You're just more competent than some of the other officers I've had to work with."

"I know."

"You be careful up there. It's not easy taking one of those things down."

"I don't know," Tarkin said dryly, a faint smile on his lips. "I think if a nine year old can do it, I certainly can." The com cut, leaving Anakin bright red in his embarrassment. Ahsoka laughed loudly.

"That should help make the fight in the city easier..." Skywalker mumbled.

"Isn't there a Super Tactical droid leading them? The droids can receive their commands from that thing."

"I said easier, Snips! _Easier_! I didn't say we win automatically." Skywalker leaned up over the rock and looked back at the city. "None of that matters if we can't cross that bridge, though."

"Maybe I can help." Both Padawans looked over to see Quinlan approach, his face smeared with dirt and dust, but otherwise well. Ahsoka smiled brightly.

"Did you learn anything, Master?"

"Yeah," the Kiffar said, brushing himself off, a cloud of dust coming off his tunic. "Seems like the first batch of clones sent here were eaten. Kenobi's rancor was here."

"Is he here now?" Anakin asked, but he could feel that he wasn't. Kenobi hadn't set foot on Ryloth.

"Not that I can tell. But it doesn't matter, because the rancor is gone. All that's left is Tambor and his droids, but the whole thing feels wrong." Quinlan pointed out to the city. "We've seen what Tambor does. He's taken everything of value on this planet and it transporting it away. Lessu isn't safe. If we manage to get inside the city, he's going to bomb it just to show the galaxy how much a Republic victory costs."

"Force, what a _shithead_!" Ahsoka cried, and her Kiffar Master grinned brightly at her.

"We don't need to worry about the city being bombed," Anakin said swiftly. "Commander Tarken has control of the skies, he won't let anything past him."

"You sure do have a lot of faith in this guy..." Tano said cautiously, and the other Padawan shrugged.

"I just got this feeling about him. Besides, we don't need to worry about the bombings unless we're in the city, and we have no way to do that without crossing that bridge. Their cannons are taking out everything that flies close."

"Well..." Quinlan mused, pointing down at the bridge and the transport that was slowly crossing it. "Tambor's raking in everything this planet has to offer. They run scans of the transports before they enter the city, but I think we can use them to get close enough to run the remaining distance before the bridge is deactivated."

Ahsoka grinned. "That can work."

"Yeah, it can," Anakin nodded, agreeing. "It's risky, but it could work." Quinlan stood, groaning as he did so.

"I'm going to leave that to you kids. Someone needs to fill in Luminara and lead the troops into the city, and _well_..." He laughed, patting Anakin on the back. "The clones just don't listen to Padawans."

"...yes they do!" Anakin said after he took a moment to process what Quinlan had said. "Rex and I get along great, the entire 501st listens to me without question!"

"They do it to make you feel better, Skyguy," Ahsoka said, grinning when Skywalker rolled his eyes. "We won't let you down, Master."

"You don't need to tell me that, I know you won't." The Kiffar turned and walked away, waving to them as he disappeared down the hill, and Anakin snatched up the macrobinoculars and held them to his eyes, observing the many paths and crevices in the mountains surrounding Lessu.

After a moment, he pointed to one of the nearby cliff faces, a train of droids and transports running slowly over a narrow path cut in the side of the stone. "And there's our opportunity," Anakin said, pointing as he handed the macrobinoculars to his Togruta companion. "We need to hurry. Are you ready?"

"I'm _always_ ready, Skyguy." With a grin, the two Jedi were off, running side by side over the steep ridges that made up the jagged, rocky mountains of Ryloth. The ground evened out and they slid to a stop, looking over the edge down into the chasm beneath them, the narrow pathways and the droid transports directly beneath them. Without a word to each other, they dropped off the edge, landing silently on the ground behind the convoy, and using the Force, they quickly lifted the two droids bringing up the rear into the air and dropped them off the side of the path, their metallic voices screaming and their bodies clanking on the stones as they fell.

The transports stopped as the droids were alerted to trouble, and blasters raised, they came around to see what the trouble was. When they found their two comrades gone, they began a brief and frantic search for the assailants, but the investigation abruptly ended when they saw the bodies of the other droids smashed on a pathway far below. The mystery was solved. They just fell. Shaking their elongated heads, the droids returned to their post, the convoy slowly beginning to move once again, and Anakin and Ahsoka climbed out from underneath the transports. Walking silently behind, Anakin used the Force to open the cargo hold, the sound of the door unlatching drowned out by the clanking of the droids and the hissing thrum of the ship's repulsors. Ahsoka deftly jumped up inside the craft while Anakin held the door open, and when he felt Ahsoka's presence beside his, he let go of the Force, the door now held by the Togruta, and he slipped in as well, the Padawans closing the hatch together. All they had to do now was wait.

They sat in silence until they felt the craft stop, the clanging of droids outside as they walked around the transport, and Anakin closed his eyes and opened himself to the Force, felt that they were on the bridge, and nudged Ahsoka. With a nod, they crouched, lightsabers in hand and ready to be activated, and when the transport's doors opened, the two Jedi dashed out, lightsabers igniting in a blaze as they ran as fast as they could, cutting through the droids they passed by, but it wasn't enough to stop them from issuing the command to deactivate the bridge. Centering himself, Anakin reached out through the Force to push Ahsoka as she jumped, and the additional boost was enough for the Togruta to make it to the other side. The bridge flickered off just as Anakin jumped, but it was too far to make. Closing his eyes, he reached out, and felt his Togruta friend reach out at the same time, and together, they used the Force to bring Anakin to safety.

"Nice catch," Anakin said, the Togruta grinning as she deflected the shower of blaster fire that came down upon them. Droids marched to the entrance of the city in force, far too many for the two Jedi to handle on their own, and Anakin calmed himself and focused. "You get control of the bridge, I'll get Tambor," Skywalker growled, and the other Padawan scooted closer to him, tightening up their defenses.

"And how do you suppose to accomplish that, Skyguy? There's an _army_ between him and us."

"Which is why it's so important to get that bridge under our control, so we can get reenforcements! Go, I'll cover you." With a quick nod, her green saber raised, Ahsoka dashed off toward the control tower, deftly leaping over obstacles and destroying droids with ease, her attention on progressing since Anakin shielded her from the blaster fire. Anakin felt a tremor in the Force before he heard a deep, distant rumbling, and moments later, the B1 Battle Droids that filled the courtyard suddenly dropped to the ground deactivated, leaving the droid army greatly diminished, though the more advanced units still stood. Anakin grinned as he watched Ahsoka disappear into the control tower. Tarkin had succeeded in destroying the Control Ship. All that remained was getting to Tambor before he could escape.

When the plasma bridge hummed to life, the Republic army charged, clones and their Jedi commanders swiftly running toward the city, and Anakin took off in search of Wat Tambor, his blue lightsaber easily destroying droids as he rushed past, and Skywalker could feel that the battle had been won. When he found Tambor, the Separatist commander was screaming at a ship as it flew away from the landing pad on which he stood, focusing his wrath on the shuttle and not the Jedi that casually strolled to where he stood. Tambor turned around slowly when he heard Anakin clear his throat, the Skakoan's regulated breathing hitching when he stared at the point of a blue lightsaber.

Putting his hands in the air, Tambor quietly asked, "Can we discuss terms of surrender?"

Anakin grinned. "Of course. They're unconditional."

* * *

Wat Tambor was successfully delivered to the hands of Republic officials personally by Anakin Skywalker, the Jedi Padawan that had led the Battle of Ryloth to an astounding victory for the Republic. The Council had been called to session, and young Skywalker summoned, but Anakin had ignored them, choosing instead to retreat from the limelight to sit in quiet meditation in contemplation of the events of the battle. There were times during the battle he had felt almost one with the Force, could feel the rushing of its power around him, could breathe in the warm, calming air as it held him in its embrace. His Master had always said he had great potential, and when he was young, he was called a vergence, though he seriously doubted that to be the case. If he truly was, he should, by rights, be stronger than he felt.

But he was strong, he did recognize that. Frightfully so, when he put his mind to it, as it was shown on Ryloth. There were thousands of droids, and not a single one of them could touch him when he centered himself and truly focused, and with a partner by his side, he was unmatched, at least with the droids. But it wasn't enough. No matter how hard they fought, how many droids they destroyed, they kept coming, and even the most powerful of Jedi couldn't stand against an army that was infinitely large. Clones kept dying, and they could only be grown so fast, so how long would it be before sheer numbers simply overwhelmed them?

Anakin was pulled out of his meditation when he felt his Master enter the room, a bright, spot in the calm waters of the Force, and Anakin leapt to his feet and rushed to him, the Padawan bouncing on the balls of his feet before his Master.

"The Council summoned you, you know..." the Master said tiredly. "It doesn't do to ignore them."

"The Council is in session, Master, so aren't you ignoring them as well by not being there?"

Qui-Gon groaned and ran a hand over his face. "That's a technicality. And besides, I'm a Master. You _have_ to listen _."_

Anakin sighed. "So...that's where we're headed?"

"I'm afraid so." Skywalker groaned as he walked beside his Master, the older man moving slowly as if he were reluctant to go. "I heard about your success on Ryloth," Qui-Gon said softly. "Though, it was from the rumors, so I'm sure it was greatly exaggerated."

"As they usually are." Anakin looked up at the Master. "Why, what are they saying?"

"That you destroyed another Droid Control Ship, defeated the remainder of the droid army, flew across a chasm to get to Lessu, and captured Wat Tambor." Qui-Gon pointed at the Padawan's chest. "And all by yourself, no less."

Anakin flushed and brought his hood up over his head. "Only one of those things is true..."

"Oh? I didn't know you could fly, Anakin." Skywalker tried to choke back a laugh when they passed a group of Knights that were staring at the pair. "Ahsoka told me what actually happened. I'm certain she exaggerated her own part in the story, but I think I understand the truth of it. The capture of Wat Tambor is especially impressive. And I hear you actually pulled back from an attack to call in reenforcements?"

Anakin rolled his eyes, but smiled with good humor. "Force help me, Master, you act like I'm completely unreasonable."

"You have been known to be impulsive, my Padawan. But you are learning quickly. The battlefield seems to suit you." They stepped into the elevator, the doors closing with a hiss and the platform began to swiftly rise.

"I think we've talked enough about me..." Anakin mumbled. "How was Mandalore?"

Qui-Gon sighed. "Tiring. But insightful. Obi-Wan was there." He could feel Skywalker tense next to him. "I wasn't harmed, Anakin. You can relax."

"...did you learn anything?"

Qui-Gon folded his arms. "A fair bit. Quinlan was right about being able to reason with him. He's extremely dangerous, but he seems to think that death is a waste."

"That's good, right?"

"Qui-Gon shook his head. "No, Anakin. I don't think it is." The doors slid open, and the two Jedi stepped out of the elevator, and made their way into the Council chamber in silence. The two bowed when they entered, and Qui-Gon took his seat. Most of the Masters in attendance were not truly there, represented instead by their blue holograms, calling in from their place in the war.

"You're late," Mace Windu said, his voice strong and intimidating, and while he still had the medical droid at his side to attend him, he looked much recovered from last time.

"I'm sorry, Master," Anakin said, bowing his head and repentant. "I felt the need to meditate after all the attention upon my return." Mace looked at him for a moment and then nodded, and Anakin breathed a sigh of relief.

"Do you have a report from Mandalore?" Windu asked, his gaze shifting to Qui-Gon, and the Jedi nodded.

"Mandalore's problems are an isolated incident involving a splinter group called Death Watch, and they have been resolved. I have arrested Senator Tal Merrik as a conspirator against Satine's rule, but the matter is settled. He has been given to the Republic for justice."

"Death Watch?" Mace asked, leaning forward in his seat. "Are those the warriors responsible for attacking our ships?"

"They are. And I don't think they will be a problem in the future."

"Something you are not sharing, there is," Yoda said softly, and Qui-Gon sighed.

"Obi-Wan was there." The Council began buzzing, and Qui-Gon rolled his eyes. "I didn't mention it because there's no point discussing him any further."

"Did you learn anything new?"

"Yes." Qui-Gon crossed his arms. "Don't touch his things." The Master closed his eyes, and it was clear the Council wouldn't be getting anything else out of Qui-Gon. With a sigh, Mace turned his attention back to Anakin.

"What are your feelings on the war."

Anakin looked back to his Master, the older Jedi leaning back in his chair with his eyes closed, and the Padawan looked back at the Master that addressed him. "I think it's endless. We keep making clones, they keep making droids, we gain ground, we lose it, but there's no sign of it ending so long as we're militarized."

"You've been personally responsible for a great number of Republic victories already."

"No, they aren't my victories. Master Qui-Gon helps focus my actions, and my troops support me. They aren't _my_ victories."

A small smile came to Windu's face. "And if you had command? What would you be doing?"

Anakin crossed his arms, biting his lip as he thought. "I would take measures to stop the war as quickly as possible instead of meeting the Separatists on the battlefields of their choosing. Make no mistake, we _should_ be saving planets like Ryloth, but I think if we're going to win, we need to be more focused instead of spreading ourselves thin like we have been."

"A lot of worlds will suffer if we recall the Jedi like that," Mace said, his voice low and warning, but Anakin shook his head and stood his ground.

"A lot more will suffer if we allow this war to drag on. We can rebuild afterwards. We can save worlds when we are certain they won't just fall back to the Separatists or become battlegrounds again. We need to launch an offensive where it will hurt."

"And where is that?" Windu asked slowly leaning back and wincing when his back rested against the chair.

"Well..." Anakin mused, looking up at the ceiling as he thought and pulling on the braid that fell over his shoulder. "Capturing their leaders is a good start. We have Wat Tambor in custody, and without leadership in the TechnoUnion, I think it will effect their ability to continue to supply the Separatist war machine."

"So you aim to capture their leaders?"

Anakin shook his head. "No, not me. The solution is only temporary anyway. All of them can and will be replaced if they are gone too long. The only ones that are instrumental to the Confederacy are General Grievous, Count Dooku, and Obi-Wan Kenobi."

"It's a dangerous task to capture those three," Shaak Ti said, her blue hologram shifting as she looked at the Padawan.

"Which is why that's not what I'm suggesting. They are the problem, but if we take away their ability to conduct war, than they will have to deal with us in another way." Anakin grinned. "I say we destroy their droid foundries. _All_ of them."

"An ambitious plan, this is," Yoda said, nodding. "But work, it may. Know where they are, do you?"

"No, Master, not all of them. But we do know where some of them are, and we should be able to figure out the rest. We know there's a massive foundry on Geonosis, and we have Wat Tambor in custody, and _his_ unions are making the droids for the Separatists. We can just look up where the subsidiaries of the TechnoUnion have their base of operations, and Tambor can tell us where the rest of them are when we interrogate him." Anakin shrugged. "We won't get all of them, but if we can destroy several, then we can significantly hinder their ability to replace their lost troops."

"Obi-Wan and I visited Eos on our mission," Quinlan said. "There was a droid foundry there that was capable of producing over five million droids in a year. Skywalker's right, if we can destroy those things, then we've killed droids before they even get made. If nothing else, it will force them to start moving cautiously."

"A General, you have become, Skywalker," Yoda said softly, his wrinkled face smiling. "Kneel."

Anakin did so, his chest tensing when he felt his Master sit up straight, his presence strained for a moment with shock. Yoda got off his seat and stood before him, his hand extending to Qui-Gon, who dutifully rose to stand beside the Grandmaster. "Anakin Skywalker. Courageous, you are. Victory in this war, you have achieved, by trusting the Force, your allies. Much to learn, you have, as do we all. Great, your achievements have been, and stand in place of the Trials, they do. Confer on you the rank of Jedi Knight, the Council does."

He couldn't keep his hands from shaking and had to look at the ground when Qui-Gon's blue saber activated and cut the braid from his head, and he could feel his Master's presence in the Force filled with pride, and Anakin could barely keep his emotions from his face. It was admittedly not a very Jedi thing to do, but he couldn't help it.

"Thank you, Masters," Skywalker said softly, barely audibly, running his hand quickly over his eyes as he stood and looked at the Jedi in the room. Yoda shuffled back to his seat, but Qui-Gon stayed at his side, handing him his cut braid and laying a large hand on his shoulder.

"An important task, you have," Yoda said when he was settled. "Act on your plan, you will. Work with others, you must, to accomplish this." He closed his eyes, his long ears lowering. "But more important things, the Force will ask of you. A vergence in the Force, you are, Skywalker, but another one, there is."

Anakin sucked in a sharp breath and knew exactly what the Master would say. The Force pulled him to it as if it was always inside him, a thing that he had long ago forgotten, but always knew. "Obi–Wan."

Yoda nodded. "Connected, you are, in many ways. Opposite, and the same. Both vergences, you are. You, of the light. He, of the dark. Trained by the same Master, you were. Coincidence, this is not. Meant to oppose him, you were."

Anakin laughed nervously. "I only just became a knight. How am I supposed to do this when Masters have failed?"

"Ready for knighthood, Obi-Wan was not. But ready, _you_ are. Against the darkness, you will stand, Skywalker, but not alone. The strength of the Jedi, you have, in our unity."

Anakin took a deep breath and looked around, observing the Masters that sat before him, feeling the comforting presence of Qui-Gon Jinn at his side, and he nodded. He could do this.


	52. Broken Ally

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm starting to eat away on my lead, and the chapters from here on out are going to get a bit more complicated and more difficult to write as we enter the third act. I try to put out good sized chapters between 4000 and 6000 words, but that's difficult to write everyday. So I'm putting this to you guys. Which is your preference, shorter chapters of between 3000 and 4000 words, or longer chapters that can go anywhere from 5000 to 10000 with a day or two between them. Let me know! Enjoy, I liked this one.

Two chairs around the table of the Separatist Council on Raxus were vacant. Wat Tambor had been captured on Ryloth by his own stupidity, the order to evacuate the planet ignored to satisfy his own greed. The other missing member was Archduke Poggle the Lesser, the leader of the Geonosians, and that particular loss greatly disturbed Dooku.

The insectoid creature had been captured by the Republic when the newly appointed General Skywalker had launched an attack so ferocious against Geonosis that the Separatists couldn't get organized quick enough to mount a suitable defense. Skywalker had brought the full might of the Republic down on the planet, attacking from space with three Venator-class Star Destroyers and on the ground with thousands of clones and four Jedi, three of those generals, including himself. Skywalker had been joined by his newly appointed second in command, Wilhuff Tarkin, and together with his forces, General Skywalker had managed to completely and ruthlessly destroy the Droid Foundries on the planet. The blow was devastating, and Dooku was furious about it. This Jedi was far more aggressive than most.

The silence in the room was broken when the doors opened and Obi-Wan entered, walking to one of the empty seats and dragging it away from the table so he could sit by himself. Crossing his ankle over his knee, he leaned back and smiled brightly at the Count, who glowered for a moment before he felt the malice practically radiating from the younger Sith Lord. Kenobi had struggled for control before, but now he wasn't even trying, and Dooku could feel the Dark Side gravitate toward the younger man as if it was summoned. When the door closed, a man in black and red regulation clone armor stood with his arms crossed as if he were guarding it, and Dooku spotted a lightsaber at the man's side.

"Cody," Kenobi said lightly, and the clone looked toward the Sith Lord. "Make certain nobody leaves until I am finished here."

"Yes, my Lord." Cody looked about the room. "If they try, sir?"

Kenobi shrugged. "We've lost enough of the Council, so don't kill them. Arms or legs will not be missed, though, do you think you have enough training with the lightsaber to accomplish that safely?"

The Council looked at the clone, eyes wide in fear, and Cody shrugged. "I think so, sir." Dooku fixed his steely gaze on Obi-Wan and it was if he were looking into the Dark Side itself. His defenses were down, and he allowed the Force to run freely through him, and the Count could feel the rush of the storm and the chill in the air. Every breath he took was thick with the Dark Side, but it wasn't empowering him as it usually did. The Dark Side was drawn to a more powerful Master, and for the first time in a very long while, the Force didn't seem to heed his call or bend to his will. It was actively _against_ him. Dooku swallowed hard and strengthened his mental defenses, his hand coming to rest on his lightsaber.

Obi-Wan clapped his hands together and looked about the room. "Well, we have had _lots_ of failures lately, haven't we?"

"You've had your own share of _failure_ , Kenobi," the Count growled, and the younger Sith laughed loudly.

"Have I? Christophsis, Haruun Kal, Vassek, _Florrum_...I seem to recall victory at all of those. And those are just the big ones. I have only been successful on my smaller missions as well."

"Christophsis was _lost_ , if you will remember."

"Intentionally. Sometimes you must lose battles to win wars, and Christophsis destabilized the Republic and the Jedi Order all at once. I would call that a victory. But _you_ ," he laughed, eyes narrowing dangerously. "All of you, _failures_. Nute Gunray gets captured on Rodia by a little girl, Wat Tambor allows his personal greed to prevent victory on a _very_ important fight, Grievous loses the _Malevolence_...even _you_ , Dooku," Kenobi chided. "Captured by pirates...it's _embarrassing_."

"I recall you being captured as well."

"By design, it was the quickest way to find you, and I needed time with Quinlan Vos to pull him closer to the dark." Obi-Wan whistled. "But _Geonosis_...this failure is different."

"And where were _you_ ," Dooku growled, hands flat on the table and rising out of his seat. "One year since the start of this war and you have been involved in hardly anything at all! You are hardly fit to be a commander!"

Kenobi just smiled, and through his rage, Dooku could feel the other Sith slowly reach out and grab hold of the darkness that had suddenly rose from him in his anger. He suddenly couldn't breathe when he realized his error. Kenobi had been _trying_ to make him angry to give him an easy way to grip him in his dark clutches. "I would have been on Ryloth," he said in calm, measured tones, but to Dooku, from across the room, it felt as though Obi-Wan was leaning over him and whispering directly into his ear. "I _wanted_ to be on Ryloth. We had a deal, Dooku...we were to be _partners_ in this war, we were going to work together to increase our efficiency!" The smile dropped off Kenobi's face and was replaced by cold indifference. "And then you told our Master about the arrangement..."

Dooku felt Kenobi's grip tighten, and he focused on the younger Sith, the man's calm doing nothing to hide the raging darkness around him. The Count felt unease before, but now he felt that he was in actual danger. "We cannot talk about this here, Kenobi."

"Oh, we absolutely can. Not about our Master, or course. I assumed that you just told him everything he wanted when he punished you for getting captured." He grinned wickedly. "Which is _pathetic_ , by the way. No, this is about something else." He rose from the seat and sauntered to the table, the Council scrambling to get out of his way when he approached and laid his hands on the hard wood surface. "Tell me about Death Watch, Dooku..."

"I've never heard of them," Dooku said without a hint of hesitation or emotion, and it was almost believable.

" _Really_. That's not what Pre Vizsla said. And you know what? I believe him." Obi-Wan drew his weapon from his belt and activated the humming black blade, and for a moment, Dooku's eyes flashed with recognition, and Kenobi growled. " _Why_. Why would you assault Mandalore! Why would you try to execute Satine when you know that she is _mine_?!" Dooku opened his mouth to speak, but Kenobi's hand shot forward and grabbed the Count's neck with the Force. "Actually, I don't want to know." He pointed the darksaber at the members of the Separatist Council who stood with their backs flat against the back wall. "I want you all to watch this so you can understand what happens to those who touch my things."

Dooku tensed as a tremendous weight pressed down on him, his arms shaking violently as he tried to keep himself up, but the pressure became too great and he was slammed to the table, the hard, sturdy wood shaking from the impact and groaning and creaking under the weight of the Force upon it. Dooku gnashed his teeth together and kept his mouth shut. He would not make a sound, not for this Sith whelp, and furthermore, he refused to be held there like some novice. His deep brown eyes lightened to a pale, eerie yellow as the Dark Side flooded him, and with a vicious snarl, he threw up his defenses, forcing Kenobi out of his mind, and with the speed of a much younger man, he drew his lightsaber, the red blade on the curved hilt thrumming dangerously.

Obi-Wan tossed the darksaber into his left hand and drew his primary weapon, the red plasma blazing in a hiss as it extended. Catching the black weapon in a backhanded grip, he pointed the red blade at Dooku. It had been a _long_ time since he had fought with Dooku, in training or otherwise, but Obi-Wan knew he was better. Within him, the Dark Side felt one with him, his heart beating in time with its powerful pulsing, his breathing in unison with the ebbing and flowing of the Force, the clawed, shadowed hands of the Dark Side resting over his on the sabers he held. The Dark Side had assumed control of his body, allowing Obi-Wan the chance to manipulate and maneuver through the Force to break within his opponent from within.

It was Kenobi that moved first, the younger, more agile Sith swiftly jumping on to the table, and Dooku slashed at his legs, Obi-Wan pushing off the solid wood and twisting in the air, lashing out with the red weapon when he was above the Count and using the momentum to carry him all the way down, the strike easily blocked, but the darksaber nearly took the Count's hand off when it was whipped around. Dooku took a swift step back, and he found himself defending against a vicious offensive by two dangerous blades, and Obi-Wan was proving to be a frustrating opponent. His movements were precise and accurate, a carry-over from Dooku's own style, but unlike the older man, Kenobi was young and athletic, replacing Makashi's precise footwork for fast, unpredictable movements, quick dodging and perfectly timed jumps.

A very well-placed stab made Obi-Wan take a slight step back, and it was enough for Dooku to become the aggressor, pressing his advantage with a flurry of small cuts and stabs, and while a single blade would have allowed the saber to hit its mark, Kenobi's use of a second weapon was impressive, and he used both defensively to easily keep Dooku's blade from him. If possible, Obi-Wan was a more frustrating opponent when he assumed the defensive, and Dooku recognized the young man's mastery of Soresu, an impressive feat for one so young, and easily the best in the style that he had ever seen. Both blades were used to their maximum efficiency, turning his perfect defense into an impenetrable wall, and the matter wasn't helped any when none of Dooku's feints had their desired effects. It was as if the younger Sith could see what the Count was doing before he did it, the red and black blades seeming to move into position before Dooku even moved his lightsaber.

Obi-Wan swiftly retreated, forcing Dooku to chase him, lest he lose the offensive, and the Council members scattered when the combatants drew near to them, the sound of another lightsaber humming to life when Nute Gunray rushed toward the door in terror, only to find a blue blade held by the clone pointed directly at him. Despite the commotion, Dooku kept his focus on the younger Sith, his dangerous opponent suddenly changing directions and ducking under the Count's weapon, his own saber raised over his head to block against a downward strike, the red blades sparking as they slid against each other. With Dooku's blade locked and keeping the red saber from him, Obi-Wan quickly spun, slipping out to move behind the Count, his backhanded darksaber slicing across Dooku's ribs just under his arm. The Count's yellow eyes widened as he gasped in pain, and the loss of focus allowed Obi-Wan to grip the older Sith with the Dark Side, pain rushing through the man as he was forced to his knees before Darth Lumis.

Kenobi deactivated his sabers and returned them to his belt when Dooku's eyes rolled back into his head from the pain. His fingers extended, he called the Count's dropped saber to his hand and tossed it to Cody, the clone catching it easily and, holding it with due reverence, inspected the curved hilt of the Sith Lord's weapon. Obi-Wan pointed to the Council, keeping the focus and the fury of the Dark Side on Dooku. "All of you, return to your seats." No push of the Force was necessary. Every one of them rushed to take their seats, visibly shaking as they watched their leader be tortured by the unseen power that the other man commanded. When it looked like Dooku would lose consciousness, Obi-Wan loosened his grip on him, the elder Sith gasping for breath when he felt his lungs could expand without severe pain.

"Have we understood the lesson?" Kenobi asked, his voice a low, menacing growl and Dooku felt chills run through him when he heard the breath of the Force in Kenobi's words. "Don't touch my things, am I understood? _None of you_ are to touch my things!" Kenobi's blazing golden eyes locked on to Chairman San Hill when the Muun raised a shaking hand into the air.

"What, may I ask, constitutes as yours, my Lord?" he asked, his high pitched voice even higher with the strain of tension and fear.

" _Everything_ ," the Sith snarled in a voice that was barely his, and through the pain, Dooku managed to rise to his feet, staggering away from the Sith Lord who was one with the Dark Side, a nexus that he felt foolish for not seeing before. Kenobi shook his head, an elegant hand roughly running through his hair as he struggled for control, the Dark Side sinking its claws deeper into him as he struggled against it. Eventually, his breathing evened out, even if the Dark Side remained snarling and raging. "Mustafar is mine," he said softly. "The _Negotiator_ and the _Liberator_ are mine too, as is everything on them. Mandalore, and the entire system it belongs to are mine as well, as are all systems in the Neutral Alliance. Cody over there is mine. Duchess Satine Kryze is _especially_ mine," he growled, turning to Dooku, and the man was once again forced to his knees when pain rushed through him.

This time, it was different. This time, it was as if the Force had reached out and roughly grabbed him, its ethereal hands sinking into his arms and holding him in place, the proximity to the slash under his arm burning. Dooku tried to center himself, but found that the Force was acting in concert with Obi-Wan to the exclusion of all else. He looked up to see Lumis above him, one hand grabbing his white hair, and the other poised above his forehead, fingers extended as if he were reaching out to grab something small and delicate. Dooku's eyes widened when he felt the Sith within him, not reaching through his thoughts and memories as he was known to do, but grabbing something deep inside him. Kenobi's hand began trembling as if he were struggling to hold on to something heavy, and then slowly, he began to draw his hand away from Dooku, and the Count gasped as he felt the very Force within him stir, aroused to action and unwillingly pulled from him and into the Sith that controlled him.

Dooku had endured the pain of before in stoic silence, but now, as he felt life ripped from his body, he screamed. It felt like eternity and he tried to find his focus to fight back, but the Sith that commanded the Force seemed to ignore his struggle. Without warning, Obi-Wan let go, and Dooku fell to the ground, gasping and coughing and shaking as the pain faded into a dull throb. He looked within himself, touched the Force, and the Count could feel that the Force that gave him life was _wounded_. His Master had taught him about the Sith Lords of old, and one of the most impressive was the Lord of Hunger, Darth Nihilus, a Sith so powerful that he consumed the very Force from the living. A being so _wrong_ that he left gaping wounds in the fabric of the Force itself. But Sidious had said that his knowledge had been lost, and here now stood Obi-Wan Kenobi, Darth Lumis, doing what Nihilus had done on a much smaller scale. It was... _unfathomable._ And deeply impressive.

Breathing deeply, Kenobi looked down at Dooku's prone form, feeling his life energy, touching the Force within him to find him... _salvageable_ , unlike the first being he had this to. Of course, he had drained Eeth Koth to the point of death. Comparatively, he managed Dooku with a lover's gentle hand. When Dooku began to move, slowly pushing against the ground to lift himself up, Kenobi walked around the conference table to sit at the head in what usually would have been Dooku's seat, his long fingers running over the deep lightsaber burns in its polished surface.

"Now, do we all understand to stay away from my things?" The Council nodded frantically, high-pitched whines of panic torn from a few throats, and Obi-Wan grinned brightly. "Excellent. Let's talk business. Ryloth and Geonosis are devastating losses. I would have come immediately after Ryloth fell, but there was some foolishness on Orto Plutonia I was called away to deal with. By the time I was on the way here, Geonosis had already fallen." He extended his hands. "What are we to do about this, gentlemen?"

"We must rescue the captives," Nute Gunray said in his accented wheeze. "It's a disgrace that the Republic even has them." The others around the table nodded in agreement, but Kenobi just drummed his fingers on the table, eyes on Dooku as the Count still struggled to rise.

"You aren't thinking this through. An attack in the heart of the Republic to free those two is hardly worth it." Kenobi took a deep breath. "If you want them back so badly, it will need to be an infiltration job."

"There's a bounty hunter I have used in the past..." Dooku wheezed, standing on shaking legs and shuffling to the nearest chair. "Cad Bane. He can do this, if we find it prudent to do so."

"Kenobi steepled his fingers and looked at him. "And do you find it prudent?"

"I do not." Dooku's eyes narrowed, the pale yellow slowly darkening to his natural brown. "If they were so easily captured, than they deserve to be locked away for a time. How else will the lesson be learned."

"...I agree." Kenobi looked around the table, but none of the others, save for Dooku, were looking at anything other than the ground at their feet. "Nothing else? Is that the best that the Separatist Council can come up with?" He groaned, running his hand through his hair. "We have a problem, and his name is Skywalker. The loss of Ryloth can be handled, but now the Jedi are blowing up our droid production plants. We need to retaliate. We need to make them fear the consequences of attacking us like this." He tapped the table with his finger. "So we return the favor. We attack Kamino."

All the beings around the table looked at him, big eyes wide or mouths hung open, and slowly, they began to voice their agreement, the fear they felt before slowly fading as they began discussing how such a feat would be accomplished. Dooku's eyes never left Kenobi's, the young Sith Lord smirking at the Count's silent displeasure.

Obi-Wan whistled when it became too loud in the room, and they all quieted down, fidgeting in their seats excitedly. "I will be leading the assault, but if this is to be done, I need the best. I'm bringing General Grievous and Asajj Ventress with me, and we're taking the _Negotiator_ , the _Liberator_ , and...is Grievous' new ship built yet?"

"Yes, my Lord," San Hill said. "The _Invisible Hand_ is fully operational."

"Excellent. I shall need that one as well. You will do well to ensure that everything I need is sent to Mustafar. I plan to leave by the end of the week. Make certain I get additional dreadnaughts and heavy cruisers. All of you, in the meantime, will make certain that all of our droid foundries are heavily defended, and I want the biggest ones relocated to Teth and Indoumodo out in Wild Space."

"That will be expensive..." Hill said softly, withering when the Sith gold eyes fell on him.

"You are the bank. _Fund it_."

"If we divert our resources to our foundries, than how will we hold the systems we have captured!" Gunray's cohort Rune Haako asked said forcefully, and the Sith Lord rolled his eyes.

"Do you want to lose systems, or the war? Because I really want to win it, which is why we are going to Kamino. To _discourage_ their destructive behavior." They frantically began vocalizing their understanding, praising him for the plan, generally _groveling_ , and with a sneer, Kenobi waved his hand in the air. "Go. I've no further use for you." Given permission, the Council quickly pushed away from their seats and rushed for the door, Cody stepping out of the way as they left in a hurry, and when they were gone, he had closed the door behind them, tapping the console on the wall to seal them inside. Dooku hadn't moved, his burning gaze never once leaving Obi-Wan.

"Our Master will not approve of this," the Count said quietly, sharp brown eyes following Cody as the clone took a seat beside Obi-Wan.

"Of course he won't approve. We're going to lose the fight, winning isn't the point." Dooku hadn't stopped looking at the clone, the man's armored feet on the shining surface of the table, and Kenobi thrust his thumb toward him. "Cody knows most everything. We can discuss this here."

"Ovas tym zenoti tu'iea meistras kash ari iv tave resucejis?"

"Ah...no, he doesn't know that." Kenobi laughed lightly. "Honestly, do you think I'm a fool? I plan to be around a long time, that isn't something I share with anyone but you, my Sith brother."

Dooku frowned. "If your plan isn't to crush the cloning facility, than what is it you intend to do?"

"I'm sending a message," Kenobi said slowly, folding his hands together and reaching out with the Dark Side to grab Dooku's mind, the Count's jaw clenching as he did so. "The planet will be heavily guarded, and an attack will draw the full might of the Republic to us. But more than that, on Kamino is Jedi Master and member of the High Council, Shaak Ti."

"And you mean to kill her?" Dooku asked, incredulous. "Kamino is a dangerous target, even for you. To attack the planet just to capture one Jedi-" Kenobi hadn't moved, but the Force was suddenly around his neck, squeezing hard and preventing him from drawing anything more than thin, wheezing gasps.

"Your opinions stopped mattering the moment you attacked Mandalore," Lumis whispered, smiling softly as Dooku struggled. "I _do_ wish to be friends, Tyranus. I'd hate to let something like this get in the way of our working relationship, especially since my problems have resolved themselves so nicely, and without the conflict you created, I doubt they would have ended the way they did."

"I didn't create Death Watch..." Dooku wheezed when Obi-Wan had released him, his hand rubbing at his neck and eying the other Sith cautiously when he leaned back and laughed.

"No, but you funded them. You gave them the support they needed for a hostile takeover, and in doing so, you have made the Duchess an ally of the Sith."

Dooku scoffed. "And what ally could be found in a _peacekeeper_. We would have done better to raise an army of Mandalorian warriors, and Death Watch would have been indebted to us." The Count's eyes narrowed in anger. "This Satine is a distraction and a weakness!"

"You're right, she was." A sinister smile spread over the features of the younger Sith Lord, and Dooku could feel the Dark Side pulling at him, deep in his mind and urging him to submit. He gripped the table, teeth clenched together as he felt Lumis within him, pulling at the wound in the Force he had inflicted and promising to make it worse if his will was not heeded. "Ashajontû kotswinot itsu nuyak. As the Code demands, she has faced adversity, she has prevailed, and now her chains are broken."

Dooku's eyes widened as he slowly understood. "You have...changed her?"

"Not me. She has changed herself. A willing ally is so much more effective than a slave, and Satine Kryze is more than willing to do what she must to protect what is hers. You wanted a Mandalorian army, and in time, you shall have it. But now, we have gained a political ally, and I believe our Master would agree that a cunning politician can outflank and outmaneuver even the strongest of warriors."

Dooku brought a hand to his chin and stroked his beard as he thought, doing all in his power to push away Kenobi's presence in his mind, but the younger Sith would not let go. "She serves you?" he asked, and Obi-Wan shrugged.

"In exchange for the protection of her systems, she has agreed to serve the Sith."

"And she said this?"

"In so many words. She will be an ally to _me_ , and she is fully aware of my Sith connection."

"Does our Master know about this?"

Kenobi shook his head. "Not yet, but he will. I intend to have her bring as many systems as possible into her Neutral Systems. When the Empire ends the war, the entirety of her alliance will join with us as the force that has reestablished strength and peace to the galaxy."

"...that is exceedingly clever."

Kenobi grinned. "A Sith Empire, brought into being not with subjugation, but with _gratitude_." He pulled on Dooku's mind, pain jolting through the Count when he felt the very Force within him shrink back from the Sith, tucking away as if to protect the violent wound inflicted upon it. "So we are done touching my things, yes? Because if not, I would be more than happy to show you that weakness can be tempered into strength, and the Dark Side has forged me."

"I believe you," Dooku mumbled, breathing deep when he felt Lumis loosen his crushing hold. Obi-Wan had always been cruel, but this was far different than before. He was unchecked and uncontrolled, the Dark Side running freely through him, and it seemed as if the young man had no intention of stopping it. The Force was burning, and Darth Lumis was laughing as he burned with it. "What have you become..." Dooku asked softly, though not unkindly. Lumis was more than a tool of the Dark Side, he was a partner of the Force, a thing so rare and unfathomable to the Sith mentality that the Count had a sudden urging to become _very_ close to the boy. Dooku had misjudged him. He was a dangerous enemy, far more dangerous that he previously believed. He needed to make an ally of this one before Sidious turned them against each other again.

Kenobi scoffed. "What kind of a question is that."

"You aren't even _trying_ to control the Force anymore, Obi-Wan, it is controlling _you_."

Kenobi laughed, leaned back in his chair and shook his head. "I try, Dooku, but the Force will have what it wants. I no longer have the tools to control the Dark Side, my powers have grown too strong too quickly."

" _How_."

The Sith Lord smiled. "Wouldn't you like to know..." Laughing, he leaned over the table toward Dooku, as if getting ready to share some secret, private thing. "The truth is, I don't know why. My knowledge of the Force has expanded to include things I never thought possible. Maybe it's that which pulls the Dark Side to me. Maybe it's the will of the Force itself, I do not know." His finger traced the deep gouge in the table left by the lightsaber. "But I do know that the Dark Side will consume me if I allow it to. I need control of it, and I don't think I will find what I need among the Sith. Which is why I need to go to Kamino."

Dooku hissed, leaning forward to be closer to Lumis, and whispered, "You want to learn control from the _Jedi_?"

"The Jedi are bastions of control and restraint, and I believe it is foolish to discount their teachings on the matter. After all, the difference between us isn't in our understanding of the Force, it's in the way we use it. Jedi methods put to Sith practice can yield nothing but strength. I will not be turned away from knowledge simply because we find offense with the practitioners."

"I was a Jedi longer than Master Shaak Ti," the Count growled. "I could teach you more about Jedi control than she could."

"That's true, but I'm not learning from her. I need something from her that you can't give me. I need a _Jedi_."

"There are easier Jedi to obtain."

"Yes, but no other accomplishes as many things for as at once as Shaak Ti."

Dooku scoffed. "Such as?"

"Cody here tells me that she's training clones on Kamino. Her capture will deprive them of a teacher, and the loss of a member of the Jedi High Council will shake them. It has before, and Jedi compassion guarantees that each blow against them hurts more than the last." Kenobi pursed his lips, looking away from Dooku for a moment before quietly saying, "I have seen visions in the Force, and it has shown me a Togruta female standing in a field of dead Jedi. I cannot see who it is, and I don't know if it means that this woman escapes execution or aids in it, or something else entirely, but I feel like this could be dangerous for the Sith. There aren't many Togruta females among the Jedi, and I will deal with all of them."

"Be wary of visions, Kenobi," Dooku warned. "The Force so often leads us astray. It's why we must take the Force and bend it to our will. We control the Force, it does not command us."

A small smirk slid across the young Sith's face, his eyes flashing dangerously, and Dooku recoiled slightly. "The Sith talk about bending the Force to our will, but it is exactly that which turned the Force against the Sith Lords and drove us to near extinction. The Force bites back, our Master has said this many times before. I will not be pulled into the same mistakes as a thousand Sith before me."

"And you would heed the will of the Force?"

"Without question. The Force has shifted in our favor. The Dark Side is rising, and the Force isn't just allowing it to happen, it is _aiding_ us. The Jedi have failed to create balance, and now the Force favors the Sith to do what the Jedi could not. It would be _foolish_ to let ambition wreck our advantage. That would make us comparable to Wat Tambor's humiliating loss of Ryloth."

Dooku frowned. "I doubt our Master would approve of your views."

"I disagree. The Sith are changing. Conflict is the agent of change, and we thrive upon it. Our Master isn't one to waste an advantage when he sees it." A sly smirk slid across Kenobi's face. "The Rule of Two is over, Dooku. It has been for some time. The new Sith Order is rising, and if we do not adopt new ideas, new methods, we will stagnate and fall as the Jedi have. Our allies are flocking to us. Our Master is bringing close those who will serve in the Empire. I have brought Satine and a thousand systems to be ready for our ascension. On that woman, I will sire the next generation of Sith Lord that will rule this galaxy."

Dooku was silent for a moment as he contemplated this. "There will always be a Lord of the Sith above all the rest."

"Of course, but under him will be hundreds of Masters, _thousands_ of apprentices. An Empire will require the combined might of a thousand Sith to make our rule enduring." A sinister smile crossed his face. "We will need each other, Dooku. I'd hate to kill you. You are powerful and valuable to the Sith, but if it means safeguarding my interests, my future children, my _legacy_ in the Sith Empire, I will do it."

"Darth Sidious will not allow it."

Golden eyes gleamed in amusement. "Oh, Tyranus, do you think to tell our Master of what I have done here?" Kenobi gestured carelessly in the air. "Go on then. Tell him. Tell him how I so easily brought you to heel. Tell him you need help to defend against me, and your usefulness to him will be _over_. All you will be is another stone on which the Sith will step upon on their rise to greatness." Lumis smiled gently when Dooku's jaw clenched in anger. "Do we understand each other?"

" _Perfectly_."

"Excellent!" Obi-Wan clapped his hands together as he rose, Cody quickly leaping to his feet to stand beside his Master. "Now, I have told you of my future plans, as per our agreement. Despite this... _disagreement_ , I believe we can still make the arrangement work. We are partners after all, yes? We both seek the same things."

"Naturally..."

"I'll contact you after I return from Kamino. With any luck, I'll return with more than just Shaak Ti. They are certain to send Jedi to defend their clones, and I need Force sensitives to experiment on."

Dooku rubbed his neck, the phantom fingers of the Force still burning his skin. "Have you learned something new?"

A slight, secretive smile passed over the Sith's face for a moment before it faded into cool indifference. "Oh yes. You shall see in due time. You're going to like it. And we're going to need _something_ to replace the droids if the Jedi continue to assault our factories."

He tapped the clone on the shoulder, and without another word, Darth Lumis left Dooku alone to contemplate his place in the new Order of the Sith.


	53. The Kamino Blockade

The _Umbra_ hung in space just above the command deck of the _Liberator_ as the rest of the Separatist fleet, eight dreadnaughts strong and flanked by dozens of frigates, sped toward the Republic ships that served to blockade Kamino. Dooku had not been joking when he had said that Kamino was no easy target, and with Sidious' war effort concentrated on the cloners' ability to produce new soldiers, it was no surprise that the Sith Master would take steps to guard his interests. Still, the entire fleet didn't need to get through. Obi-Wan just needed one ship, and it would be over.

Upgrades to the _Umbra_ had been completed that week, and after a few tests in mock battles in the skies above Mustafar, Kenobi had declared the new systems a resounding success. Powered by stygium crystals, the cloaking device was developed earlier in the war by the Republic, and it had been upgraded and modified by the TechnoUnion to suit the specific needs of the Sith Lord. The cloaking technology created an invisibility field around the ship that made it impossible for both scanners and the naked eye to detect. Firing the ship's powerful cannons would give away its location, but if the ship was flown discreetly, the _Umbra_ could go anywhere completely undetected.

"We didn't bring a big enough fleet," Grievous said from behind him, his mechanical claws on the back of Kenobi's seat, and with a frown, the Sith brushed the hand away.

"Do you want to give them even more ships to shoot down?" Obi-Wan asked, irritated. "We've already been over this, General. We're going to lose most of these ships, breaking the blockade isn't the point."

"He doesn't listen when you talk, darling," Ventress said, the Nightsister standing at his other side and laying a long-fingered hand on the Sith's shoulder. Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. Ventress and Grievous had only just met that afternoon, and they hated each other immediately. The entire trip had been spent in heated argument over who was the more gifted of Dooku's pupils, which Obi-Wan found absurd. Grievous was eventually willing to conceded that Ventress may have been his equal, but Asajj, ever proud, remained dismissive of the cyborg, and the fighting began again. It only ended when Kenobi had drawn his own weapon and put them both to shame, and after that, they maintained a tense, mildly flirtatious peace. Cody found it disgusting.

The fighting began in a rain of green and red and blue as ships were struck, explosions erupting along their flanks, starfighters disappearing into balls of smoke and flames, and stalwart shields absorbing damage as they released fighters like a swarm. The _Liberator_ and the _Umbra_ held back, well out of range of the fighting, and Obi-Wan leaned over to Cody in the seat beside him. "Any word on our diversions?"

"Yes, sir." The clone pressed a few buttons on his side of the control console and a hologram of the galaxy appeared between them. "Rishi Station has been destroyed. Crys estimates that communications have been slowed by fifty percent as a result."

"Reenforcements won't even be able to get here before we are done!" Grievous said, laughing until Kenobi tapped him on the arm.

"Let's not get overconfident. Don't forget that they will divert all their attention to us once they know what is happening." He tapped his chin as he looked at the galactic map. "It's true that Kamino is a long way from Republic space...what of our activity in the Ryndellia System?"

The system lit up on the map, and Kenobi grinned. MidRim Ryndellia was a long, long way from Wild Space where Kamino was located. "The Kaliida Shoals Medical Center is currently under attack. The Republic has deployed their best to defend it, there are over sixty thousand clones stationed there."

Obi-Wan nodded. "Do we know the ships?"

"No, sir."

"It doesn't matter anyway, it will take hours to get here from the MidRim. We will be gone by then." He tapped the controls on the armrest, and the galaxy map faded and was replaced with a map of the cloning facilities on Tipoca City. "As a reminder, Ventress, you are headed toward the labs to secure a DNA sample. I have _no_ idea why Dooku wants it, but if you fail him in this, it may be one too many failures for him to see any further use for you. I suggest you don't fail."

Asajj grit her teeth, the Dark Side flaring as anger overtook her, and Kenobi just grinned. "I _won't_ fail."

"Good. Hang on to that anger, you're going to need it. Grievous, you are headed to the barracks. You're providing the distraction. When we get the droids down, you will lead them in to face the clones. These clones are battle ready, so be careful. Once you get the signal, no matter how well your troops are doing, you are to fall back, understand?"

"The clones cannot stand against me!" Grievous snarled. "I will destroy them all!"

Kenobi sighed. "Suit yourself...but if you aren't back at the _Umbra_ at the designated time, I'm leaving without you." The cyborg growled, but said no more, his being relaxing into acceptance. "Cody."

"I stay by your side, sir, and when commanded, I am to return to the _Umbra_ and prepare for our retreat."

Obi-Wan took a deep breath and reached out through the Force, feeling the excitement of Grievous, the calm of Cody, the rage of Ventress, and felt beyond them to the hundreds of thousands of identical lives on the planet below, and through it all, he felt one singular point of light. "As of now, there is one Jedi on the planet. That will not last. Be prepared for anything." The group quietly murmured their obedience, silence falling upon them as each of them focused on the task at hand, each of them looking out toward Kamino before them, the space between them and the cloaners filled with ships, lasers and debris.

"Cody, contact the _Invisible Hand_ , tell them to issue the command to launch the Trident Assault Ships." The clone nodded, quickly activating the com to the other Separatist fleet when Obi-Wan activated the ship's stealth drive, the cockpit humming as the systems engaged and dropped the ship from sight. He grabbed the yoke and the accelerator just as his sharp eyes caught sight of two Star Destroyers appearing in the space behind Kamino where before there was nothing but empty space. Reenforcements had already arrived, reverting to sublight speeds and immediately making for the blockade, the large hanger doors on the top side of the ship opening to release hundreds of starfighters that immediately took to the fight.

Ventress began to laugh. "Well, _that_ was fast."

"They must have been nearby," Obi-Wan mumbled to himself. "Or they somehow heard about the plan to attack. Cody, Identify the ships."

The clone quickly bent to the task, and before long, he whistled and leaned back in his seat. "You aren't going to like it. Our newcomers are the _Impavid_ and the _Vigilance_."

Kenobi closed his eyes and breathed deeply, regaining control of his racing heart. He had already known who it was before he asked. He could feel it in the Force. _Skywalker_. "I don't know the _Impavid_."

"She's new, sir."

Obi-Wan took his hand off the yoke and leaned back, his finger tapping on the armrest as he watched the starfighters from the reenforcements join the fight. It didn't take him long to identify a yellow Delta-7B Light interceptor, the ship clearly custom fitted and improved to be lighter, faster, and stronger than other ships of its make. Moreover, it was flown by an expert, the ship so well handled that even Obi-Wan was impressed. He didn't need the Force to know that the pilot was Anakin Skywalker, and he took to the sky like he was born for it. Kenobi's hand tightened on the accelerator and grabbed the yoke.

"This is good, they think the fight is up here."

"The fight _is_ up here," Grievous growled, and the Sith Lord breathed deep and centered in the Force.

"For now. Be silent, I need to focus."

Nobody said a word as Obi-Wan thrust the accelerator forward, the ship smoothly sliding into top speeds as it rapidly flew toward the battle. The task wasn't an easy one. Navigating the maze of plasma charges and the chaos of a thousand starfighters was no easy task, and it was made more difficult by the necessity for perfect stealth. Destroying obstacles in the way or absorbing enough damage for the shields to fail would make the invisible _Umbra_ visible, and the game would be over. They needed to remain completely undetected, passing like a ghost through the battlefield to penetrate the blockade and make it to the oceanic planet's floating clone city. This feat would have been impossible for most pilots, but there were few in the galaxy that could fly better than Obi-Wan. The Sith Lord suspected that Skywalker could have accomplished this as well, if his knack for the mechanical was as prodigious as he had been led to believe, but there were precious few else who could make it, and certainly none that did not have the Force to aid them.

When the ship began to swiftly evade oncoming fare, diving below ships as they crossed before him, weaving in and out between red and green beams of energy, Cody leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes in full faith that the Sith would bring them where they needed to be, but Grievous and Asajj looked on in amazement. With the Force guiding his every action, it was if Kenobi and the ship were one as he executed swift flips, setting the ship into a downwards spin to avoid the explosive blast of two starfighters colliding, heading straight toward oncoming fire only to have the ship move effortlessly between diverging shots. At top speeds, despite the winding, twisting trail they cut, it didn't take long for the _Umbra_ to slow, the engines lowering in pitch as they flew close underneath the belly of one of the Star Destroyers. They were at the edge of the blockade. They had made it through.

"Cody, check to see the status of those Tridents, I don't want to begin until they are ready to deploy our forces."

The clone activated the radar and began reading information that was displayed on the monitors on the console. "It seems they got through, sir, but they were damaged. The aqua droids are repairing them now, they will be battle ready in ten minutes."

The Sith nodded as he navigated through Kamino's stormy atmosphere, flying low over the ocean on the approach to Tipoca City and circling around it as he searched for a good place to land. He settled on a small landing platform that overlooked the larger main hanger. The thundering rain covered the sound of their already quiet landing, and the Sith powered the engines down, diverting the remainder of the power to keep the stealth drive activated. He could feel the anticipation of his companions through the Force, could feel the Dark Side gripping him tightly and urging him to release himself to its will, and Kenobi centered on this, knowing that very soon, he'd have what he needed to end this struggle between him and the Dark Side.

Obi-Wan pulled up the map of the city again, a glowing red dot indicating their location on the outside edge of the largest of the domes that stood above the raging waves. "Cody, how many Tridents made it?"

"Three, sir."

Kenobi nodded. "Have them lock on to our location and attack on the opposite side of this complex, and on the two domes at our sides. We want to divide their attention and lead them away from us." Cody bent to the task, and Obi-Wan pointed at the holographic map. "I am giving us no more than an hour to accomplish our mission, and if we cannot do it in that time, than we have failed. Orient yourselves to our location. You will be on your own from here on out. You know what you must do, and I trust you to succeed. Stay focused, stay smart, and stay alive. The Dark Side is with us. Do not give it a reason to lose faith in us."

The cyborg and the assassin nodded, quickly leaving the ship together, and Obi-Wan closed his eyes and lost himself to the Force, tasking it to show him the swiftest path to Shaak Ti.

* * *

"Alright, boys, fan out and follow me, those frigates are launching more vulture droids. Don't let them through." The com chatter was filled with a chorus of identical voices acknowledging the directive, and when the starfighters filed in beside him, Anakin pressed the accelerator forward and flew in to re-engage the droid fighters as he muted the com to his clones and opened the channel between him and the silver Delta 7B that flew just under him. "I'm at seventy four, where are you at."

The voice on the other end of his headset gave a long-suffering sigh and said in an aristocratic accent, "This isn't a game, General."

"Of course it isn't a game! But the clones and I always keep count. You haven't been with us long enough yet, Tarkin."

There was silence for a moment, and than the Captain said, "Since I am responsible for the destruction of the Foundry on Geonosis, do I get credit for the droids destroyed there?"

"W-well..."

"By my estimation, there were upwards of two million automata within the factory."

"It's a different battle, Tarkin, it doesn't count," Skywalker growled as he deftly flew toward the droid fighters, his clones close behind and creating a wall of blaster fire that the droids could not pass through. The vulture droids and the starfighters weren't the problem. The problem was the massive dreadnaught that loomed menacingly in space before them. The _Invisible Hand_ was the new creation to serve as General Grievous' flagship, and it was nearly double the size of the _Malevolence_ on which it was based. It appeared that Grievous was learning from the loss of the last ship, as he kept the mighty dreadnaught well protected, flanked by a small army of droid controlled frigates. More dangerous, however, was the _Negotiator_ , the smaller ship hanging in the shadow of the _Invisible Hand_ and adding its firepower to the might of Grievous' vessel. The two ships worked in perfect tandem, with the larger providing the cover and the smaller shooting down anything that came near with distressing accuracy.

"Tarkin, martial up your squadron and make a run at one of those frigates. If we're going to have a shot at bringing that dreadnaught down, than we need to clear space around it."

"I don't think that's going to be a problem. The commander aborad seems to be sacrificing them to keep the command ship safe."

Anakin frowned as he brought the nose of his ship up to avoid the screaming vulture droids coming straight for him, and he looped around to shoot them down as they passed. The Captain's implication wasn't lost on Skywalker, and it was distressing, and not only because he had been thinking the same thing. "You don't think it's Grievous aboard the ship?"

"It's reckless, even for him."

"...I agree." Anakin pulled up as Tarkin's silver starfighter took off in the direction of a frigate that had left the side of the dreadnaught it defended, the entirety of his squadron following close behind as he began the attack run, and Anakin brought his ship around to follow suit, his sights set on a ship that was swiftly moving toward the blockade on the far edge of the field. He listened closely to the com as the Captain commanded his troops with the maximum efficiency afforded to him, and it wasn't long before Tarkin had completed a first damaging run and was swinging around for a second.

"We will have a small window of opportunity when we destroy this ship," Tarkin said. "We have a clear shot at the dreadnaught. How shall we proceed?"

Taking a deep breath, Anakin fired his proton torpedoes and struck the droid assault ship right along its spine, a thick pillar of fire and smoke erupting as the frigate broke in half, scattering droids and other scrap into space. "Do not pursue. They won't be undefended for long, and the _Negotiator_ is Obi-Wan Kenobi's ship. Master Qui-Gon says he's a talented pilot, and I don't want to provoke him to action."

"That begs to question why he _hasn't_ taken to the field, sir," Tarkin said quietly. "I understand he's comparable to the Jedi."

Anakin laughed. "Yeah, I guess you could say that."

"Than where is he?"

Anakin flew the ship through the barrage of lasers with instinct alone, his body and the Force guiding him safely back to Tarkin and his squad, but his thoughts were elsewhere. The Captain had a point, and it touched on something Anakin had been thinking himself for a while. The Separatist fleet was large, but not large enough. The command ships they brought were the best they had to offer, and yet they hung back, opting to attack the blockade from a distance instead of flying into closer range where they would have been exposed, but far more effective. They were taking heavy losses, yet the ships that went down were ultimately insignificant, as though they were bait. Worse, the commanders of the dreadnaughts, General Grievous and Obi-Wan Kenobi, were nowhere to be seen, which Anakin found highly unusual for the front line commanders.

This was a trap.

"Tarkin, fly back to the _Vigilance_ and get in contact with Tipoca City. I have a very bad feeling about all of this. Contact me when you hear anything, even if you deem it insignificant."

The Captain broke away from formation. "Are you not returning as well?"

"As far as we know, the fight's up here. We need to keep the pressure on them until we hear otherwise. I don't want them to get away."

"Reenforcements are on the way, General. When they arrive, we will have them flanked, and there will be no escape for any of them."

Anakin chuckled. "If Grievous and Kenobi _are_ here, we want to capture them, not blow them out of the sky."

"With all due respect, sir, it's their deaths that will bring a swift end to the conflict, not their capture. Imprisonment only gives them another chance to escape."

"You may be right about that..." He watched as the silver fighter looped around, engines burning as he accelerated toward the _Vigilance_. Wilhuff Tarkin was, if nothing else, ruthless in his methods, and while many Jedi disagreed with his brutal approach, Anakin included, in many cases, the young officer was a machine of brutal efficiency and tactical genius. When Anakin was knighted, the Senate had the ship _Vigilance_ ready for him to command, and Chancellor Palpatine had personally assigned Tarkin to work closely beside Anakin as something of a symbol of the unity of the Republic and the Jedi. The best of the Jedi should work closely with the best of the Republic, Palpatine had said, and while Anakin didn't agree with the assessment, it was clear that the Chancellor was closely watching the careers of the two promising men.

With the threat of a trap pulling at the back of Anakin's mind, he gathered his troops around him and launched a new offensive against the Separatist fleet, swerving out of the way of flames and scrap as he effortlessly tore through the waves of vultures that were launched at him, coordinating attack runs to bring down surrounding frigates, and once, he had an open shot on the _Invisible Hand_. Losing himself in the Force, he commanded his clones to cover him while he pressed in through the gap, readying his plasma torpedoes and taking aim at the control deck high above, but the shot missed by a narrow margin when he had to suddenly drive the nose of his ship upwards, banking hard to the right as the _Negotiator_ below fired a charged beam of energy from forward ion cannons. Anakin frowned when he saw the advantage lost, and he fell back into formation with the clones. It seemed like Obi-Wan had upgraded his ship.

For a moment, Skywalker had half a mind to evacuate one of the blockade ships and pilot the thing himself right into the closely grouped dreadnaughts. The loss of one Star Destroyer for the two prides of the Separatist Navy seemed both a fair exchange, and the only way that the two dreadnaughts would be taken down. As good as he was, Skywalker knew that one Delta 7B, even if it was piloted by the best in the galaxy, couldn't take down these ships on its own. A lot of people would have to die to even give them the chance. Tarkin would urge him to take the risk, writing off any loss of lives or ships as a necessary expense, but Anakin cared too deeply about his troops to put them in needless danger. There was a way to break the deadly tandem of the _Invisible Hand_ and the _Negotiator_. There simply had to be.

His headset crackled with static for a moment before the connection was firmly established, and Anakin could hear Tarkin barking commands at personnel on the bridge before he addressed his General. "Sir, we just received word from General Shaak Ti in Tipoca City. The cloning facility is under attack."

"Kriffing hell, how did they get through!" Anakin cried, immediately dipping his ship down and flipping around to change course away from the Separatist fleet and back toward the _Vigilance_ , which rested at the head of the blockade, the Star Destroyer shooting rapidly at the droid fighters that managed to get past the clones. Despite taking heavy fire from frigates that came within range, the shields were holding strong.

"It would appear that the purpose of some of these ships is to be shot down, they are carrying droids aboard that are repairing the salvageable parts into functioning battleships when they enter the atmosphere and fall into the ocean."

"That's the most absurd thing I have ever heard!"

"Maybe so, but that is what's happening."

Anakin groaned and ran a hand over his face, quickly checking his radar to make certain that his clone squadron was following him. "Is the invading force big?"

"No. General Shaak Ti says that there are not nearly enough droids to capture the city, but there are enough to cause a staggering amount of damage. Furthermore, it appears that they are being led by General Grievous."

Skywalker's grip on the yoke tightened as he clenched his jaw, eyes narrowing in a flash of anger. "You were right, Tarkin, Grievous isn't in command up here. Damn it, we've walked right into a trap! I can't leave. We need to be down in the city, but if we abandon the fight up here, they could break through the blockade and make things worse."

"We don't need to bring soldiers to Kamino, sir, since they have plenty of them down there. We just need an elite force to go down and take care of the Grievous problem. The clones are competent enough to handle mere droids."

"Does she report anyone else of note down there?"

"None that she is aware of."

Anakin closed his eyes as he closed the communication and reached out through the Force for guidance. These were the time that he needed Qui-Gon Jinn, but there would be no help from his former Master. Qui-Gon was busy at work with Luminara in the task of defending a medical center in the Ryndellia System. He wasn't alone, but as the General in charge of the Republic reenforcements, the call was his. The Jedi needed to be on Kamino, but at the same time, they were needed to help defend the blockade, and as they best pilot they had, Anakin was a necessity. Were Separatist reenforcements to arrive, the blockade may have difficulty holding, and the slightest slip in their defense could mean thousands of droids on Kamino.

What was worse, Anakin knew that somewhere in the system was Obi-Wan Kenobi, and the Sith Lord had shown time and time again to be able to change the tide of battle in his favor. If he was laying in wait on the _Negotiator_ , if he was half a good a pilot as Qui-Gon had led him to believe, than he'd need to be there to shoot the Sith Lord down before he could cause too much damage. Even worse, if somehow Kenobi had managed to find a way down to Kamino, if right now he were walking about the cloning facility...

Growling in frustration, Anakin diverted full power to the engines, the starfighters screeching as it shot underneath his Star Destroyer, just as another materialized in the skies above Kamino. Anakin slowed the fighter, pulling the yoke back as he flew up between the blockade to get a look at the newly arrived ship, and he grinned widely as he opened a com channel between his fighter and the Star Destroyer. " _Prosperous_ , this is General Anakin Skywalker. We're glad to have you."

The holodisc on the control console whirred as it was activated, and it quickly flickered on as the connection was secured, the stern, serious form of the Iktotchi Saesee Tiin displayed before him. "What's the situation, Skywalker?" the Jedi Master asked, his low voice serious, and if Anakin hadn't bonded with him over the joys of flight, than his severe features, his stern glances, and the horns that grew out of his head and curved down toward his shoulders would have cut an intimidating figure. As it was, he couldn't have asked for a better reenforcement. Like Anakin himself, Master Tiin had a lifelong passion for piloting, and he was matched in skill only by the young Skywalker. As for who was the better of the two, Anakin wasn't sure, but he wouldn't put it past the cunning Iktoochi to be able to best him, even if it was an advantage that only came from many more years of experience.

"Contact the _Vigilance_ and they'll fill you in, but I need you out here now to lead the assault. I'm heading down to Kamino to deal with a situation there."

The Master frowned. "Am I needed on the surface?"

"No, you're needed out here. I'm taking Master Vos, Padawan Tano, and Captain Tarkin with me, so you're in command of the defense." Saesee didn't say a word as he cut the com, and Anakin quickly reestablished connection with his ship, his headset crackling as his Captain was rushing about and ordering the troops with quick, calm commands.

"General, I'm trying to coordinate a suitable counterattack now that we have additional reenforcements, so-"

"Glad you're on top of it, Tarkin," Skywalker interrupted, and he could practically feel the Captain burn with irritation from across the distance between them. "General Tiin is going to assume command up here. I want you to contact the _Impavid_ , tell General Vos to grab his Padawan and come down to aid Kamino. I want you to meet us there as well."

In the silence that followed, Anakin could practically here the Captain's mind racing, running through all possible outcomes and alternatives. Finally, he said, "Will one General up here be enough?"

"Of course it will. Saesee Tiin is one of the best pilots in the galaxy."

"One man is not enough to stop the tide, General."

"Maybe not, but one Jedi can at least hold it back for a time. We're bringing the best to Kamino. I intend to finish there quickly so we can return to the battle here."

"Very good, General."

Steeling himself, Anakin pointed the nose of his starship down, diving beneath the mighty Star Destroyers and flying top speed toward Kamino.


	54. The Battle of Kamino

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, guys, I did it. This was going to come to you in two parts, but it broke up the flow, so here it is, in it's unholy, massive glory. Might not get a chapter tomorrow since, you know, this is actually two, and I sort of have only a slight idea of what comes next before the shit goes down, but I'll do my best. Again, let me know in comments or PM if you have ideas or want to see something. Your ideas help my ideas. Also, um...new Pokemon game comes out on Friday, so...Gotta Catch Them All, kids!

It took less than five minutes for his team to arrive, and less than that for the three Jedi and the Captain to clear the hanger of the droids within. Clone soldiers were in cover behind walls and crates and railings, and when the last of the droids had been destroyed, the clones rushed to fortify the defense of the secured hanger. Far up on the massive dome of the city, they could see the sharp, twisting mechanical links that served as the long arms of a droid shaped like an arrow, a spinning drill puncturing the dome and releasing droids within. Two others like it did similar work on the domes on either side of them, and without saying a word, the three Jedi and the Captain rushed into the city, the hallways lit with eerie red emergency lighting.

"Do we have a plan?" Quinlan asked as they skidded around a corner, his green saber slashing through a rogue droid in the hall.

"You're the Master here, that puts you in charge!" Anakin huffed, using the Force to push fallen droids out of the way, but Tarkin quickly grabbed his arm.

" _Don't_!" the Captain hissed, dragging Skywalker to a swift and sudden halt, and Quinlan and Ahsoka ran past them, only realizing a few seconds later that the other were lagging behind. "We have a trail of destroyed droids and dead clones, and it will lead us directly to General Grievous. Don't disrupt it!"

Quinlan pointed to the Captain with his thumb. "He's right. You a tracker, Tarkin?"

The man scoffed. "I hardly think this is the time for-"

"You're a tracker, right?"

Tarkin sighed. "Every summer since I was twelve on Eriadu's Carrion Platteau."

Quinlan winked at his Padawan, leaning in close to her. "Told you so." Ahsoka quietly cursed under her breath.

"This entire mission has felt wrong since the beginning!" Anakin shouted, taking a few deep, calming breaths before he began to run down the halls, the others following closely behind. This time, he followed the trail of bodies and debris, carefully avoiding them as they made their way through the facility. "The attacking force is too small, something's not right."

Ahsoka nodded. "I agree. If destroying the cloning facility is the task, they aren't being very smart about it, and we know Grievous is smarter than this." Again, they skidded to a stop when the hallway emptied into a circular room, several corridors leading in different directions shooting off from the domed room. The trail led down only one of the hallways, but before Anakin could take off again, Quinlan grabbed his arm, Skywalker looking down curiously at the kneeling Master, the Kiffar's eyes closed and his hand upon the body of a dead clone commander, his armor pierced by a burning hole that could only have been left by a lightsaber.

"Ventress is here," Quinlan said softly, and Anakin inhaled sharply, holding his breath for a moment before he exhaled and began to pace.

"General Grievous, Asajj Ventress, Obi-Wan Kenobi..." he muttered under his breath looking down the halls and reading the signs that described where the corridors led. "Grievous is heading to the barracks. The clones there will put up a fight, but we need Jedi there. Quinlan, Ahsoka, you two go lend aid to the clones and stop Grievous."

Quinlan grinned. "Been wanting to take on that scrap heap for a while now. This should be fun."

"Tarkin, you make your way to the central command area. Master Shaak Ti should be there, lend her what aid you can. I'll go with you until we can find a company of clones to support you, and then I'm heading to the labs. I...have this feeling."

Ahsoka smirked. "You sure do have a lot of those."

"And my hunches are usually right. To maximize damage to us, they would need to compromise our ability to create more clones, which means the labs will be a target." Anakin paused for a moment, then groaned loudly. "This is _exactly_ what we did to them on Geonosis! Kriffing Hell, this isn't just an attack, it's a message!" Anakin steeled himself as he looked down the hallways, the red warning lights flashing. "Everyone stay alert. Ventress is here, and it's possible that Kenobi is as well."

"General, I dislike that we're splitting up," Tarkin said swiftly, stepping forwards to be closer to the Jedi. "Surrendering group integrity for twice as many possible problems isn't a sound strategy."

"How are we supposed to accomplish all we need to if we stay together, Tarkin? They are almost certainly divided as well. We need to be able to be two places at once."

"If we remain together, we can tackle one problem at a time, and do it in half the time it would take were we divided. I do not think this is wise. Grievous' meager assault is clearly a distraction. We should all head for the cloning laboratories. That is where the Separatist objective will lie, _that_ is where their key players will be."

"You want us to leave Grievous alone?" Ahsoka asked, appalled. "He will kill _hundreds_ of clones!"

"Acceptable losses. There are always more to replace them," Tarkin said calmly, drawing to his full height. "But there won't be if we don't save the laboratories." His cool blue eyes looked the angry Padawan over and sighed. "You are selling your troops short. They are clever, and this is their home. They _will_ defend it, and when tasked to, they will bring General Grievous to heel."

"We're wasting time discussing this!" Anakin snapped, grabbing hold of an irritated Tarkin's arm. "We have a plan, and we're going to stick to it. There are too many dangerous people running around, and we need to get in their way before they cause too much damage." Not another word was said as Quinlan and Ahsoka sprinted down the hall littered with bodies and sparking, broken droids, and Anakin pulled Tarkin down the corridor leading toward the laboratories, the Captain fuming as he followed, but he stayed silent.

It didn't take long for Anakin to find a squad of clones rushing down the hallways, and quickly explaining the situation, they gladly took Tarkin on as their commanding officer and doubled back down the halls toward the command center. Finally alone, Anakin stopped and knelt, eyes closed as he reached out with the Force to feel the presence of all of those around him. The intense fury of the clones as they defended their home drowned out nearly all else, the fear and anger driving the Force toward the Dark Side, but through it all, he saw the current gently flowing in one direction, as if it were called to a singular source, as if it demanded that the Force obey, and the Dark Side answered in languid response. His course clear, he followed the pull, the Force guiding him to where he was headed all along.

Anakin arrived soon after, his speed augmented by the Force, and the doors of the laboratory opened with a soft hiss and closed nearly silently behind him, and awe nearly took his breath away. He had never been to Kamino, and it was nothing like he imagined. The room was bright, blindingly so, everything a brilliant shade of stark white that only seemed to draw attention to the enormous compartmented vats that reached from ground to enormous domed ceiling. Within all of them were clones, hundreds of thousands of them all in their developmental stages. From tiny cylinders filled with blue-green fluid to nearly formed infant humans, the laboratories were nothing more than technologically advanced hatcheries for the Grand Army of the Republic. This room had to be defended at all costs. Anakin frowned. Tarkin may have been right about maintaining group integrity. Strength in numbers would have been helpful in defending such a vast area.

He was about to contact his captain and tell him so when the Force seemed to pull at him, snapping his attention to a place deeper inside the lab, and Anakin ran, allowing his feelings to guide him. Someone was here, and he was beginning to wonder just how many entrances to the lab there were. Driving himself to run faster, he found the source of the pull on the Force that he had been feeling, and the intruder straightened at his approach and the hissing snap of his igniting lightsaber, giving Skywalker a clear view of the thin, dark gray tattoos on her smooth, hairless head.

"And here I thought this would be easy..." Ventress said as she turned around, Anakin's eyes drifting to a thin tube she clutched in her hand. _That_ was what they were there for...whatever it was.

"Think you're going somewhere with that?" Skywalker asked, pointing with his lightsaber at the object, and with a cocky smirk, Ventress attached it to the thick belt she wore around her, calling her twin lightsabers to her hand and lighting the weapons, and without a word, the Nightsister lunged forward, her strikes unbelievably fast as she forced the usually offensive Anakin into a defensive stance, and Skywalker quietly thanked Luminara for her stubborn commitment to his training. Ventress was greatly improved since the last time they fought, and Anakin briefly wondered if this was the same woman. Ventress was faster, stronger, far more aggressive and much, _much_ more angry, the Dark Side pulled to her as she allowed it to consume her, the Force itself seeming to burn with her rage.

Centering himself, Anakin thrust his blade forward when she brought one blade down upon him, the momentum of her saber circling Anakin's around, and in an instant, Skywalker's blade slid up hers, and Ventress was forced to bring her other weapon around to block its advance, and suddenly, Skywalker had the upper hand. He kept his movements small, slight flicks of his wrist directing his weapon exactly where it needed to be to send the Nightsister off-balance, retreating as she struggled to avoid the swiftly moving blade, and with a growl of frustration, Ventress slashed one of her blades across one of the massive vats, the thick transparisteel turning a molten red as it superheated. Anakin felt his chest tighten when the long slash quickly cooled, sending long cracks up the length of the tube. He needed to bring the fight out of the laboratory, or the wild swings of lightsabers would be the death of thousands of clones in their infancy.

Apparently, Ventress agreed. Anakin lunged forward, stabbing straight at her chest, and as he moved, Ventress jumped, flipping over him with ease, and Anakin wasn't fast enough to bring his blade around to catch her in the air. She had hardly hit the ground before she had taken off running, the Force lending her speed as she slid under work stations, vaulted over data terminals and jumped between closely lined vats, Anakin close in pursuit, but losing ground, the assassin proving to be the lither, more athletic of the two. Centering himself, Anakin redoubled his efforts just in time to see Ventress disappear behind one of the vats, and reaching out with his mechanical hand, he gripped the glass tube and used it to quickly round the corner. He just barely caught sight of the bald head disappearing through a doorway. Drawing on the Force for speed, Anakin chased after Ventress, and when he entered the hallways outside the laboratories, Skywalker got her in his sights and gave chase. He wouldn't lose sight of her again.

* * *

Obi-Wan didn't have to do a thing as he calmly walked the halls of the cloning facility. Periodically, he'd have to bring up his lightsaber to deflect a bolt away from himself, but it was an effortless affair. Cody was doing all the work. The clone at his side was positively brimming with hatred, something in his mind snapping and filling him with a burning rage for the place where he was born and raised by creatures that enslaved him for a singular purpose. He was a clone, bred for war and nothing else, and that's what Cody was intent to bring upon them all.

Protected by the Sith's lightsaber, Cody was able to focus his attentions on shooting down every clone they came across, from the soldiers who were awaiting deployment, to the young cadets returning from combat training, to seasoned veterans returning home to re-equip themselves. He knew all their tactics, all their strategies, all the weaknesses in their armor, and without regret or remorse, he killed them all. With Grievous serving as the distraction in the barracks, reenforcements came in a thin stream, never getting to the point where they faced a terrible amount of resistance, but never running out of targets either, and when one plasma rifle had been depleted of charges, there was always another to be taken off the dead. Just as they were trained to do.

As they approached the command center, the resistence they encountered was greater, the corridor heavily fortified, and several clones were equipt with the rapidly firing Z-6 rotary blaster cannons, and Obi-Wan centered himself in the Force and assumed Soresu's defensive posture, moving his blade so quickly and efficiently that hardly a bolt got past him. He kept up the swift defensive long enough for Cody to kill the heavy troopers, and with the rate of fire slowed significantly without the semi-automatic weapons in use, the Sith was free to rush in with his clone right behind him, Cody's blue lightsaber hissing to life as the two made short work of the clones at close range.

When the clones lay dead, the hall was silent, and Obi-Wan held up a hand, his finger drawing a large, looping circle above his head, and Cody took off, rushing down the halls that branched off the main corridor, and Kenobi knelt, his lightsaber humming in his hand as he reached out to the Force, felt the life forces beyond the door, the corner of his mouth tugging up into a delighted smirk when he felt only three, and one of those was a Jedi. _Shaak Ti_.

Periodically, he could hear the sound of a blaster discharging echoing down the halls, felt as another life was snuffed out, felt the shock and confusion of the identical as they died at the hands of what looked like, _felt like_ one of their own, and when silence fell, Cody returned.

"All clear, sir."

"Well done, my friend," the Sith whispered. "Your part here is done. Go and ready the ship. We will leave as soon as I return."

"How long do you suppose it will take to subdue the Jedi?" he asked softly, kneeling beside his Master, and Kenobi closed his eyes and breathed deep.

"As long as it takes. She is a Jedi Master of the High Council. She did not get there by being weak. She is strong in the Force, uniquely gifted with telekinesis, and her abilities as a duelist are singular."

"...and you want to capture this Jedi?"

"I _will_ capture this Jedi."

"Alone?"

Opening his eyes, Obi-Wan looked at his clone and smiled gently. "If I bring you with me, you will die. I did not come unprepared, and I have a plan. Her strengths will become her weaknesses. The Force itself will turn on her, if I will it so."

"Well, may the Force be with you then, my Lord."

"It always is, may it also be with you, Cody. Be cautious on your way back."

Cody didn't say another word as he got up and left the Sith Lord, rushing back down the hall and following the trail of dead clones to take him back to the ship. Every now and again, he'd duck into a hallway, hiding himself from view as a company ran past, carrying weapons and explosives on their way to the barracks to deal with Grievous. Occasionally, a group would venture down the hallway, drawn in by the bodies of their fellows, but they mostly went unnoticed. Dead clones were something they were trained to ignore in favor of completing their mission objective, and those that didn't head straight for the barracks were quickly struck down. Cody knew his Master could handle a few clones, but if he could make the Sith's difficult task easier by eliminating possible distractions, he would do it. After all, it wouldn't do to have the clones alerted to a direct attack on their leaders.

A red light on the com on his wrist began flashing, static filtering through the speakers in his helmet as he was tuned into the correct channel, and Cody rolled his eyes when he heard the hard, labored breathing of Asajj Ventress. He could practically hear her sneer when she heard she had been connected, and he wondered why she had even bothered contacting him if she was so bothered by it.

" _Clone_ ," Ventress growled, and Cody ducked into a hallway when he thought he heard swift footfalls echoing down the hallway.

" _Witch_ ," he growled in return, and he smiled when he heard the woman grumble in irritation.

"Where are you!" she snarled, and Cody could hear the thrum of her lightsabers. If she was running, she must have met the Jedi.

"I'm headed back to the _Umbra_. What's your location?"

" _Kamino_ ," was the disaffected answer, and Cody had half a mind to cut the call. The footfalls became louder as nearly two dozen clones rushed past, and when he could hear them rushing quickly away, Cody slipped out of the hallway and back down the long corridor toward the landing platform where the stealth ship stood waiting. "Why haven't you contacted me, what's taking you so long!"

"The command center is in the heart of the city, it took a while to get there. And Lord Lumis didn't want to make a bigger commotion by tearing through the place. That's Grievous' job."

" _Excuses_!" the woman hissed. "I'm ready to leave, get to the ship!"

"I'm working on it, you banshee. Patience."

"Patience!" Ventress cried, outraged. "I ought to gut you, clone. I'm being pursued by Anakin Skywalker, we need to leave _now_."

"Haven't you bragged in the past about killing Jedi?" Cody asked lazily, leaning around a corner and, finding it clear, he rounded it, his blaster rifle in hand as he jogged down the corridor. "Just kill him."

" _So help me, clone_ -"

"Call me clone again and I'm going to leave you in this kriffing city when we leave. I am _not_ like them. If you can't kill him, lose him. I don't want you to drag him back to the ship." Ventress began a volley of violently colorful cursing, and Cody cut the communications between them just as he turned a corner and he immediately took a step back. In the middle of the corridor was a squad of clones led by a Republic officer with brown hair and sharp, severe features. It was too late to retreat. They had seen him. Calm settled over Cody as he stood up tall, blaster tucked under his arm as he saluted. The clones and their commander slowed as they approached.

"State your name and rank, soldier," the officer calmly demanded, and Cody relaxed, the rifle resting easily in his hands and his lightsaber safely secured behind him.

"CT-411, Clone Commander, Lightning Squadron, sir." It had been practiced so many times before that Cody almost believed it himself. The _actual_ clone he was impersonating he had killed himself on Haruun Kal. Even if it was a commander, nobody missed a clone.

"I heard only fifty of your squadron survived some Separatist massacre in the Outer Rim," Tarkin said softly, and Cody could feel the man appraising him. This man was...dangerous.

"Yes, sir, but we can discuss that after we press these clankers into the ocean," Cody said quickly, pressing past them with urgency. "Come on, our brothers need our help."

For a moment, the clones began to follow him, but the officer quickly said, "Not so fast," and the squad stopped. "Our objective is to give support to General Shaak Ti in the command center, if she is still there. General Skywalker seems to believe that the focus of this attack isn't what it appears. We could use your help, Commander."

Cody nodded and stepped into line behind the squad. There were eight clones. He could easily take eight, though not quickly, but he didn't need to be fast. He just needed to get them away from their course. He reached behind him and took his lightsaber in his hand, lightly jogging behind the group as he placed the end of it on the back of the nearest clone and activated the weapon, the blue blade shooting through the unaware clone's chest. Cody quickly withdrew the blade and with a swift, sweeping slash, he cut through two more before they could realize what was happening. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the remaining five clones raise their blasters, and Cody took off running down the hall, blaster fire following him as the Republic officer commanded them to disable their assailant.

Tarkin was stunned, but only for a moment, and his swift mind began quickly attempting to discern what it was he was dealing with. The lightsaber denoted a Jedi, but his actions were not in line with one who could use the Force, or they would all be dead right now. He had heard about an entire clone battalion that had gone bad and defected to the Separatists early in the war, but reports of the missing battalion were few and far between, and they were always confused and chaotic, the rogue clones usually appearing to sweep through battlefields like a fatal wind, only to go to ground immediately after. They were said to be vicious and without remorse or mercy, and they never left survivors.

The stories were, of course, ridiculous, a terrible truth that passed into legend within the span of a year, but when Tarkin looked at the clone in red and black armor, he knew he was dealing with one of the Lost Legion. How true the stories were had yet to be seen, and Tarkin was intent on his capture so he could find out exactly how much was fact and how much was fable. Faced with superior numbers, the clone had been forced to retreat, which put Tarkin in a position that he was intimately familiar with, and that was the business of stalking prey. His adolescence had forged him into an apex predator, and a mere clone, no matter how legendary, would not best Wilhuff Tarkin.

They darted around a corner as they chased the man, but the rogue clone had seemed more intent on escape than on killing his pursuers. When he had a fair lead, he had planted his feet and swiftly turned to face them, two rapid shots fired from his weapon striking one of the clones as he rushed for cover, and without looking to confirm the kill, the rogue clone took off again. The chase lasted far longer than Tarkin would have liked, and he had lost two more of the clones with him when they went skidding around a corner and began to run in the direction opposite from where the traitor had stood waiting, rapidly opening fire on them as they scrambled for cover. When they had finally recovered enough to return the volley, the red and black clone was already sprinting down yet another hallway, and Tarkin gathered his remaining two clones and went after him in swift pursuit. They were not gaining on him, and the sound of his own heavy breathing was keeping Tarkin from hearing the footsteps of the escaping clone. Every now and then, he caught a glimpse of his black and red armor flashing around a corner, or turning down another hall, and the Captain discerned that he was making his way for the main hangar. There must have been a ship the Separatists had come in, and the man was clearly trying to make his escape.

He quickly tapped on his comlink as they ran into the hanger, breathing heavily and listening for the location of the rogue clone or the ship, both of which he couldn't see. Skywalker answer with an equally out of breath, "What is it, Tarkin? I'm _very_ busy."

"Sir, we intercepted an enemy clone commander on the way to the command center."

"A _what_? How could...oh, _Sith hells_!" A loud crashing could be heard on the other end that sounded like stacks of shipping crates toppling to the ground after being hit by a quickly moving heavy object. A moment later, Tarkin heard the General groaning. "Did you get him?"

"No, sir, he's escaped to the main hangar. I lost him, but I'll find him." The sharp whine of a powerful engine engaging erupted through the hanger, drowning out any response that the General may have said. It wasn't _in_ the hangar, it was just outside of it, and Tarkin and the clones sprinted to the semi-circular landing pad just outside the covered dome, and the Captain looked up in the sky just in time to see a sleek black and red ship rise above the dome of the city, only to vanish from sight a moment later.

The General on the com was frantically asking what had happened, what that noise was, if everyone was alright, but Tarkin ignored him, opting instead to stare at the spot in the sky where the ship was only a moment ago. The clone had beaten him. For now. Finally letting go of a breath he didn't know he was holding, he brought up the comlink in his hand and said, "General, the clone has escaped on a ship. And it's utilizing a cloaking device. It's _gone_."

* * *

When Quinlan and Ahsoka arrived in the barracks, the clones had just begun to drive the droid forces back, and with a clever use of the droids they had destroyed, they had managed to construct a barrier between them and the incredibly dangerous General Grievous, blue and green lightsabers in his rapidly rotating hands, sparks flying as the plasma blades struck the walls and the barricade the clones had built. Hundreds of clones were dead, but the living were undaunted and angry, bending to the task of repelling the intruders from their homes with a dangerous ferocity. Grenades were launched from over their cover, exploding among the droids with a shower of sparks and detached limbs, and the clones vaulted over their barricade and rushed forward, only to set up a new one with the parts of the newly fallen. That, combined with continuous fire, was proving to be a dangerous battleground for the Separatist forces, and they were slowly driving the General out of the barracks.

Quinlan laid his hand on the shoulder of the clone that he identified as the one who had taken charge of the defense and subsequent counterattack and, flashing him a cocky smile, the Jedi and his Padawan vaulted over the wall, landing directly in the sights of General Grievous. The organic yellow eyes behind the steel, skull-like mask narrowed in what Quinlan identified as anger, or delight, or both, and the low, metallic sound of a harsh laugh rang out over the sound of blasters firing and the humming of lightsabers.

" _Jedi_ ," he snarled, his wrists locking back into place as he held the blades poised over his head. "I knew you would come to defend your clones!"

"And you _still_ started the party without us?" Quinlan asked in disbelief, shaking his head and turning to his Padawan. "I _don't_ believe this. Can you believe this?" He smirked and looked back to the cyborg. "Really, that's very rude."

"Joke all you want!" Grievous snapped, his clawed feet clanking against the ground as he slowly advanced. "This is where it ends for you!"

"They _always_ say stuff like that, don't they Ahsoka?" The Togruta nodded, catching her lightsaber in the backhanded grip she used for combat, breathing deep and opening herself to the Force bond she shared with her Master. The two had become more than adept at communicating through the Force, becoming nearly as one on the battlefield, and now was no different. When Grievous crouched down and lunged at them with incredible speed, lightsabers held dangerously out before him, the Jedi acted, Quinlan flipping high above the General, and Ahsoka sliding effortlessly underneath him, both of them meeting behind him and, reaching through the Force, they pushed the cyborg with such power that he went flying through the air, slamming unceremoniously into one of the barricades, sending clones scrambling to take position behind their previous cover, and they immediately opened fire.

Under furious assault, it took Grievous a moment to recover, long enough for the clones to hit critical components of the cybernetic body, and while it didn't harm the General, it was a hindrance, his shoulder joints sparking as damaged gears ground together. The effects on his dangerous combat prowess had yet to be seen, but the immediate effect was a blind, seething rage toward the Jedi that caused this. With a rattling, metallic howl, the cyborg pulled himself up, lightsabers in hand, and rushed at the Jedi, Master and Padawan immediately turning and running as fast as they could down the long, wide corridor.

"Do we have a plan, Master?" Ahsoka asked, looking over her shoulder at the cyborg that was charging at them in a blind rage, furious cries of outrage coming from behind the sinister mask. Quinlan simply smiled at her.

"Don't I always have a plan?"

"Yes, but your plan is usually to not have a plan."

"The Kiffar rolled his eyes. "How many times do I have to tell you, Ahsoka, deciding to not have a plan _is_ a plan. It's how you stay flexible when things go wrong!" Another howl of rage came from the cyborg behind them as the creature slowly gained on them, and Quinlan cringed. "Like now. Now is a _great_ time to remain flexible."

"I disagree, Master!"

"Alright, alright, alright..." the Kiffar said softly as the Jedi jumped off walls to turn corners faster, making sharp turns and ducking into random, smaller passages, the cyborg striking nearly every wall as he failed to slow his momentum enough to make the quick corners the Jedi cut, each time snarling in anger, each time slowing him just enough for the Jedi to keep their lead. "Alright, we got him away from the clones, so we technically succeeded in our mission!"

Ahsoka nodded. "Remaining optimistic _is_ important. I wonder if Skyguy will see it that way."

"Lives saved, Padawan, lives saved! That's a victory!" The comlink on his wrist began beeping, and Quinlan answered it by tapping the earpiece he wore , listening intently as he allowed Ahsoka to take the lead, the Togruta leading them in an erratic pattern through the city. "That was Tarkin. He says there's an invisible ship in the mix."

"...like the one we used on Christophsis?"

"From the sound of it."

Ahsoka frowned. "That explains how they passed through the blockade." The corridor they ran out of led to a large, circular room, the red warning lights seeming brighter and more menacing here than they did in the cramped corridors. Tano immediately made for another corridor that led away from the wide open space, but Quinlan stood his ground, his lightsaber extended before him. "Master, come on!"

"We need to face him at some point, Ahsoka. We can't run forever." As if on cue, General Grievous came thundering into the room, his breath heavy and wheezing behind his respirator, his eyes narrowed and angry, the gears of his shoulders still sparking, but not seeming to hinder his movement. With a deep laugh, his wrists unlocked and they began to spin, the lightsabers he grabbed rotating rapidly as he approached the two Jedi, Master and Padawan sharing the flow of the Force as they moved forward to meet him.

The second the blades connected in a flash of light and sparks, the fight began at a furious pace, the Master drawing the cyborg's attention with swift, powerful slashes, and the Padawan moving athletically around him and striking at any opening she could find when Grievous was forced to block Quinlan's strikes. Despite the rapid pace the spinning blades afforded him, the cyborg found that they were not working on the two Jedi. Both Master and Padawan preferred to fight in very close quarters and when he moved to strike at the swiftly dodging girl, she had darted under him, and the spinning blades nearly cut off his own leg. The evasive movement didn't give Tano the time to strike out against the cyborg while she was underneath the hulking mechanical creature, but she did manage to avoid the heavy cleaves that would have easily bisected her.

With an outraged cry, Grievous locked his wrists and the lightsabers stilled, giving up the rapid rotations for more control. However, two highly in tune Jedi were becoming a problem, and despite his best efforts to divide them, their tandem combat proved to be effective regardless of their positioning. For half a second, the Jedi and the cyborg hesitated in their movements when an incessant beeping from within Grievous sounded, echoing in the large domed room, and a deep, irritated growl formed in the General's chest, reverberating metallically through the chest plate. Grievous' movements quickened, maneuvering himself to place both Jedi in front of him before he quickly dropped to the ground, scuttling along it on four swift limbs. His retreat signal had been received. It was time to go.

"Keep him from the hallways, Ahsoka, don't let him get away!" Quinlan said quickly as he rushed to block Grievous' path, his green saber poised before him as the General rose to his feet and resumed his assault, now frantic to get away and becoming all the more vicious for it. The Jedi had been on the offensive nearly the entire fight, but now the Kiffar was forced to retreat, his eyes narrowed in concentration as he whipped his blade around as quickly as he could. With the cyborg's full attention on Quinlan, Ahsoka rushed in, her blade poised high, and she jumped, her green weapon aiming for the cyborg's mechanical spine, but before she struck, Grievous had jolted to the side, the lightsaber digging instead into the already sparking shoulder joint.

Grievous screamed, from pain or from anger, Ahsoka didn't know, but the strike had seemed to only serve to make the cyborg furious. A large, taloned claw lifted up to kick Quinlan square in the chest, and the Jedi went flying backwards, striking the nearby wall with such force that it dented, thick blood splattered upon white walls bathed in red lighting from where his forehead had struck and split. Grievous dropped one lightsaber and shot a hand behind him to grab at the Padawan just as Ahsoka jumped away, but she wasn't fast enough to get away as the mechanical hand grabbed her leg, the claws piercing her skin and muscle, and for just a moment, fear gripped her as Grievous held her up before him, his lightsaber poised to strike.

As Quinlan looked on, his vision out of focus as he recovered from the strike to his head, the Force seemed to freeze time. As his eyes sharpened, he saw his Padawan dangling upside down by the leg in Grievous' grasp, blood from the talons dripping down her body, her blue eyes wide with fear as a blue lightsaber cut toward her. For a moment, Quinlan didn't understand what he was seeing. He wasn't unconscious, he was simply dazed, and not for long, things couldn't have gone that bad that quickly. Then there was disbelief, his heart beating faster in his chest until it was nearly humming, and he felt fear rush through him. He couldn't make it to her in time. He wouldn't be able to sever the cyborg's arm fast enough for the saber to drop uselessly to the ground, and what was more, his own lightsaber had flown from his hands when he had hit the wall, and he'd have to call it back to him to attack the General, and by then, it would be too late. He felt helpless as he saw what was happening before him

And that made him _furious._

Hot, searing wrath exploded within him and he felt a rush of power that came from flames of rage consuming him completely. In the back of his mind, he could hear Obi-Wan's voice, remembered back to their time on Florrum when that smooth, cultured accent reminded him of a singular truth: _You can feel the power around you, just reach out and take it._ The Force was burning with the power of the Dark Side, and in his fear, in his unquenchable, frantic rage, Quinlan Vos reached out and took it deep within him.

Grievous' arm swung the saber, the thrumming blue blade stopping mere inches from Ahsoka when the cyborg's arm was pulled back with such force he was ripped off balance, dropping the captive Jedi when his other arm was suddenly crushed, the hissing of hydraulics releasing as Grievous' hand uselessly fell open. The cyborg growled in outrage, but was silenced a moment later when he was lifted high into the air, his arms pulled out to his sides, and the narrowed yellow eyes widened with fear as he gazed upon Quinlan Vos, his hands held out before him as if he were grasping something, his arms shaking with strain, and the tanned, tattooed face contorted in rage. With a feral yell, Quinlan swiftly made a tearing motion in the air as one of Grievous' arms was ripped from his body, the shoulder joint leaking oil and hydraulic fluid and sparking, and finally, the cyborg howled in pain.

" _Master_!" Quinlan's focus shot to his Padawan, and his eyes widened as he watched the girl struggle to stand, slipping in her own blood that ran quickly from three deep punctures in her thigh. His anger forgotten, he threw Grievous against the wall with as much power as he could muster, and he ran to the Togruta, shrugging off the top layer of his robes and immediately setting to tightly wrapping her leg to staunch the bleeding. With a shaking hand, she pointed over the Kiffar's shoulder. "Master, he's getting away!"

"Let him..." he mumbled, pulling the girl to her feet, and she winced when she put weight on the leg. With a sigh, he picked her up, cradling her in his arms, and he called the fallen lightsabers to him, Ahsoka taking them out of the air and carefully holding them. He started running down the corridor Grievous had disappeared down, but slowed to a jog when the Togruta winced with every step. "You did well, Ahsoka," he said quietly. "I'm proud of you."

She smiled gently. "Where did you learn how to do that back there, Master? I haven't seen anything like it. You certainly haven't taught me how to do that."

Thoughts and feelings suddenly crouded his mind, but he gave voice to none of them. Not about the sinister delight he had taken in tearing the limbs off a fearful, screaming creature. Not about how he was filled with the desire to do it again and put those powers to use in any way he desired. Something inside him had broken, and he was both saddened and delighted at being free of what had shackled him, and through it all, deep in the back of his mind, he could have sworn he heard Obi-Wan's deep, amused chuckle and that smooth, easy voice saying, " _Wonoksh Qyâsik nun. The Force shall set you free._ "

* * *

Lock downs had never stopped Obi-Wan from going where he wanted. The Force cared nothing for restrictions such as those, so he cared nothing for them either. With the Force, he pulled the sealed doors open, and was immediately fired upon, blue plasma rounds shooting past him as he dove into the room, the doors slamming closed and locking back into place as he let go of them, and he ignited his saber, deflecting the rounds back at the two shooters and hitting them both. The were not fatal wounds, but they did encourage the men to drop their weapons and grasp their wounds in pain, one in the leg, and one bleeding profusely from the side. Obi-Wan looked closer. On second glance, the abdomen wound may have been fatal after all.

Golden eyes lazily drifted over the room and took stock of what he was dealing with. It was large, filled with expensive monitoring systems and displays, and in the center of the room stood a large holotable. The shooters had both been male, one a Siniteen, his large, oversized head resembled a human brain and denoted the characteristic high intelligence of his species, and the other a green, triangular headed Arcona, the fatal wound in his side now being attended by the room's third occupant, the Togruta Jedi Master Shaak Ti.

He silently watched the Jedi Master as she worked, using the Force to heal the wounded men, and he couldn't help but be impressed. The Togruta was known for her deep connection with the Force, so such a skill should not come as a surprise, but Obi-Wan still found himself raptly watching. He looked down at the comlink on his wrist when it pinged with a left message, and he groaned when he saw the chrono he had set. It was well beyond his hour time limit and quickly approaching the second. Time was tight before, but now it was urgent.

"Shaak Ti." He felt the woman tense, but her presence in the Force was calm and focused.

"Obi-Wan." She stood, facing the Sith and putting herself between him and the injured men. "The word in the Council is that you can be reasoned with."

"The Council says a lot of stupid things."

"And yet both Quinlan Vos and Qui-Gon Jinn have been peacefully in your presence."

He shrugged. "I like a good conversation."

The Togruta, smiled gently, but her hand rested on her lightsaber. "As do I. Let us talk, Negotiator."

Obi-Wan chuckled deeply, the red blade gently held in his hand as he walked forward and sunk the lightsaber into the holotable, the device sparking as it flickered, the electronics within whining for a moment before the holographic and communications interface powered down. "I'd love to, but not today. I'm already pressed for time, and it seems like I've already gotten my retreat signal. I do like drawing these things out, but I need to work quickly. I hope you understand."

The Master's saber ignited with a sharp hiss, the blue blade thrumming in the air as she held it before her, saying nothing at all as she reached out with the Force and cloaked herself within it. With a sinister grin, Obi-Wan lifted the two gunmen into the air, the Force about their throats, and the Jedi's attention was diverted to her struggling companions. She shot an icy glare to the Sith Lord. "Release them!"

"Surrender and I will." The Jedi's eyes narrowed in defiance, and Kenobi laughed lightly. "How long do you suppose your friends will last? The sooner you submit to me, the more likely they will live." The Jedi Master was not swayed, and tightening her grip on her lightsaber, she rushed Kenobi, her swift, precise strikes reminding him of Dooku's style. He slid into an easy defense, watching in fascination as the Jedi Master beat against his perfect defenses, delighting in every flawless strike, every elegant move, a combination of stunning blade work and light, easy steps made her seem as if she were dancing, her body moved by the Force itself. She was, without question, the most perfect duelist he had faced so far.

Kenobi growled slightly when the Dark Side pulled urgently at his mind, snapping his attention back to reality to block a flurry of quick stabs and swift, small cuts, followed by wide, arching slashes that beat heavy against his blade. The comlink on his wrist continued to flash, and he was reminded of the urgency of the mission. Any longer, and he would be faced with more Republic reenforcements than he could handle. When Shaak Ti cut down with her weapon, he slid under it, red blade angled down over his head to cause the blade to slide harmlessly away from him, and with his other hand, he pulled the black hilt off his belt, angling it toward the Jedi as he ignited it, and the darksaber slid through the Togruta's leg. With a gasp of pain, the Jedi staggered, one hand coming to rest on the wound when the Sith circled away, shaking as she watched the menacing man reach out with the Dark Side to close around her mind.

"Now we can talk," Kenobi said quickly, putting the lightsabers back on his belt and holding his hand up toward the gunmen that remained suspended in the air, gasping thinly for air they struggled to inhale. Tightening the hand, the Arcona's head suddenly snapped back, and he fell still. The Jedi shuddered, keenly feeling the loss, and Obi-Wan tightened his grasp on her mind.

"I will not break, Sith," she growled between clenched teeth, and Obi-Wan smiled almost kindly at her.

"Not today. Today, my dear, you will obey."

"I will do no such thing!"

"You will. You have no choice." He flicked his wrist, and the Siniteen gasped, a strangled scream catching in his throat as his face turned red, the bulging blood vessels in his oversized head thickening before they ruptured, blood flowing down his face as he died. Looking on in horror, the Jedi felt her chest tighten at the gruesome scene, the senseless violence, and Kenobi felt the cracks form in her walls. He tightened his grip, but the Jedi resisted, her eyes narrowing in anger as she stood, fighting through the pain in her leg and throwing herself at the Sith once again, the breath of the Force renewing her strength.

Obi-Wan hissed in frustration as he activated his sabers and brought them up to defend himself against the arching blade. He didn't have time for this, but he couldn't simply end the Jedi. That would defeat the entire purpose of being here. Pain slowly caused the Jedi to move away from the smaller, faster movements of before in favor of powerful slashes and a relentless assault. When the Sith Lord stepped in to change the flow of the fight, she rapidly cut up, and Obi-Wan just barely stepped out of the way in time to avoid it, his own red blade following hers upwards, and when she next moved the blade, the weapon went flying out of her hands, the Sith Lord slamming the hilt of the darksaber against the wound he previously inflicted, and the Jedi fell to the ground, teeth clenched against the agonizing pain and tightly gripping the wound.

He quickly wrapped the Dark Side around the Jedi, but again, her walls stood strong despite the cracks that pain was forming. It wasn't enough. He sighed, checking his comlink and looking at the chrono. They were just over two hours now. With a groan, Kenobi strode away from the Jedi, deactivating his weapons again and putting them in their place on his belt, and reaching out with the Force, he called Shaak Ti's saber to his hand as he contacted Cody.

"Sir, are you on the way?" the clone asked.

"I will be in a moment. How long ago did you give the retreat signal?"

"Over fifteen minutes ago, sir. I was starting to worry about you."

Kenobi chuckled softly, keeping his eyes fixed on the Jedi when she stopped gasping in pain. "Is everyone there?"

Cody seemed to groan in frustration. "Grievous is on board and in bad shape. I have yet to hear from Ventress, and I had to change plans. I had to take off, I was pursued by some Republic officer that was headed toward you."

Obi-Wan tapped his finger against his cheek. "Did he see you take off?"

"Yes, and I suspect he saw me enter stealth as well."

Obi-Wan hissed and paced the length of the room, kicking one of the bodies on the ground in frustration. "...it doesn't matter," he growled. "Lock on to my location, I'm heading out now."

"The main hangar is fully fortified, sir, you're going to want to find another way out."

"Pick me off on the lower levels, I'll find my way down. Tell Ventress."

Again, Cody groaned in irritation. "She won't answer the com. When I spoke to her last, she was being chased by Skywalker."

Obi-Wan felt himself burn, the Dark Side roaring to life around him, and he felt his control rapidly slipping. "Just be ready to extract us," he growled into the com, not waiting for the clone's response to cut the connection, and he turned on the Jedi, now staggering back to her feet.

"You cannot win, Sith," she panted. "The Jedi will prevail, we _always_ prevail."

"The Jedi have already lost, you just don't know it yet," he said cooly, voice devoid of emotion as he extended his hand, fingers splayed, and bright blue lightning arched toward the Jedi, lifting her in the air as it surrounded her, and Shaak Ti screamed in agony. Kenobi stayed connected to her presence in the Force, monitoring her suffering and releasing her when the Togruta drifted on the edge of consciousness. Still, Shaak Ti, tried to struggle to her feet, but it was a reflex, the Force moving her more than her own will. This time, when he extended the Dark Side toward the Jedi, he easily entered her mind, gripping hard and the Togruta tensed, shuddering at the intrusion, than slumping to her knees.

Obi-Wan knelt in front of her, a focused expression on his face as he examined the woman's features, a smile on his lips when he found the Togruta's black eyes distant and vacant. The Jedi was not broken, but the pain had sent her consciousness to the deepest part of her mind to recover, leaving the Togruta open to the Sith's will. Igniting her lightsaber, he drove it into the ground, cutting a large circle in the metallic floor, and the cut away piece dropped with a large clang into a hallway beneath them. Standing, he pointed toward the hole.

"You first, Jedi." Without a word, the Togruta rose and dropped down the hole without hesitation, the Sith following closely behind. As soon as he hit the ground, he reached out to the Dark Side, surrounding himself in its power, its insight, and, pulling on Shaak Ti's mind as if it were a leash, he sprinted down the halls, Shaak Ti running dutifully behind him, the floor largely vacant as the clones had been called above to deal with the droids and Grievous. Using the Force to guide him, Obi-Wan quickly found his way to a thin ramp encased in transparisteel that extended underneath the dome, running along its length and leading directly to the other city rotundas. Directly underneath them, the _Umbra_ was waiting, the boarding ramp extended, the entry hatch wide open. Obi-Wan cut a hole in the floor by his feet just large enough to fit through, and he dropped down, the ramp shaking as he landed squarely upon it. He closed his eyes and commanded Shaak Ti to do the same, and a moment later, he had grabbed her with the Force and pulled her into the ship with him.

Grievous sat in the hallway to the cockpit, coughing uncontrollably and sulking, looking away when Obi-Wan approached, and the Sith Lord threw the Jedi at him. "Take that to the brig and lock it up." Kenobi slammed his hand on the console on the wall and the boarding ramp withdrew as the airlock tightly shut. "There's a containment field on one of them, make certain you activate it. She shouldn't be a problem, but I don't want to take any chances." Without a word, Grievous nodded, poking at the Jedi with the useless hand of his one remaining arm and leading her down below. Kenobi quickly made his way to the cockpit, hand on the back of the pilot's seat where Cody sat. The clone moved to get up, but the Sith put a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back into the seat.

"Where is Ventress?"

"The main hangar, sir. She must not have gotten my message."

Kenobi growled in frustration. "Well, let's not keep her waiting. When we get there and you see I have Ventress, open fire and destroy the hangar, I don't want to make it easy for them to follow us."

Cody snickered as he banked the ship around. "You got it, my Lord."

Patting the clone on the shoulder, he rushed down the hall back to the airlock, tapping the console to open the hatch and extending the boarding ramp. He hung in the doorway, watching closely as Cody brought the ship around the city, and than made a slow approach to the main hangar, the external landing pad alight with blaster fire and the bright flashes of clashing lightsabers. His eyes narrowed when he felt the tremendous Force pull of Anakin Skywalker, the young Jedi Knight fighting ferociously with Ventress, who was impressively holding her own, but defeating the Nightsister didn't seem to be the Jedi's goal. Extending his hand, something on Ventress' belt flew to Skywalker, and Kenobi could hear Asajj's outrage over the sound of his ship's humming engines.

As the _Umbra_ drew closer, Obi-Wan ran out onto the ramp, calling to Ventress through the Force, and with a snarl, the woman turned and jumped high up to the ship, carried the rest of the way by Obi-Wan, the Sith glaring viciously at Skywalker. Blaster fire was turned on the ship, the shields absorbing the meager shots without any effort at all, and Kenobi deflecting the rest away from him as Ventress ran inside. A moment later, the ship turned, Skywalker's eyes widening in panic as he quickly ordered the troops to retreat when the _Umbra's_ forward cannons released a barrage of plasma charges, the entire hangar shuddering and the landing pad breaking away from the domed city as the ships exploded in balls of smoke and flames. With all passengers aboard, airlock sealed and the boarding ramp retracted, the ship screeched toward the atmosphere and disappeared as the cloaking drive was engaged.

This time, Cody surrendered the pilot's seat when the Sith approached and took the seat beside him for himself. Settling into the chair, his hands on the yoke and the accelerator, Obi-Wan pulled the former back and the latter forward, sending the _Umbra_ on a steep angle toward space. Kenobi closed his eyes, feeling the planet below him through the Force, and frowned when he felt Skywalker's presence. He didn't expect him to die in such a way, but he had hoped. Behind him, Ventress shuffled in, quietly strapping herself into one of the passenger seats, and Obi-Wan didn't need to ask her if her part of the mission was a success. Dooku wasn't going to be happy.

When they reached space, the battle had taken a turn for the worse for the Separatist fleet. One Republic Star Destroyer lay burning in space, but it had been replaced by five more, and they were now advancing on the _Invisible_ _Hand_ and the _Negotiator,_ and a preliminary scan showed that not only were the shields dangerously low, but Republic starfighters and heavy cruisers were making attack runs. Kenobi took a deep breath, hands clutching the controls tightly, and he flew full speed through the battlefield, the way toward his ship significantly smoother than when they breeched the blockade.

"This is my fault," Kenobi said under his breath. "It took so much longer than I anticipated. I didn't realize how quickly time flows on the battlefield." He ran a hand down his face, sharp gold eyes looking out the viewport at the swarming starfighters, and his breath caught in his chest as he looked through the Force and found another Jedi leading the attack run on the _Negotiator_. This wasn't just a Jedi, this was a distressingly talented pilot, and if Kenobi didn't know better, he'd think this prodigious pilot was Anakin Skywalker himself. Jaw tightly clenched and wrapping himself in the Dark Side, he flew toward the attacking starships, weaving out of the way of stray fire, but all focus was on the dreadnaughts.

"Cody, contact Longshot on the _Negotiator_ , tell him to open the hangar bay."

"...open it, sir?"

"You heard me, do as I command!" the Sith shouted, much harsher than he intended, and the clone swiftly nodded to do as he was asked. "Contact the _Liberator_ next. Tell them to come out of cover and begin an attack on those heavy cruisers. We want to divert attention away from the dreadnaughts as they jump."

Nodding, Cody patched through to the Star Destroyer. "Anything else?"

"Yes, recall any manned starfighters we have and prepare to jump on my command," the Sith said, his voice distant as the Dark Side took him, his eyes focused on the Jedi's starfighter. When the clone did as he asked, Kenobi banked hard right and circled around, bringing the cloaked ship just behind and underneath the Jedi's fighter as he flipped around and angled for another attack run. Obi-Wan didn't lose his position for a moment as the starfighter sped toward the _Negotiator's_ open hangar, the Jedi preparing plasma torpedoes and Obi-Wan sensed his intentions through the Force. Locking the accelerator, Kenobi moved his hand to the forward cannons, and when the Jedi began to angle his ship up in preparation to launch the torpedoes, he fired, the _Umbra_ coming out of it's cloaked state as a beam of plasma energy cut through the rear left of the ship's wing, the engines smoking as the starfighter cut down and left, sending the Jedi craft crashing into the _Negotiator_ 's hangar. All attention was now on the _Umbra_.

Kenobi pulled back on the yoke, sending the sleek ship straight up along the side of the dreadnaught in a tight loop, running upside down under the shadowing belly of the _Invisible Hand_ , grinning as several pursuing clones crashed into Grievous' mighty dreadnaught. Circling around, he evened out the _Umbra_ and pointed its nose right at the open hangar, shooting any stray starfighters in the way, and the ship screeched into the wide, expansive bay, pulling back hard on the accelerator and bringing it to a sudden, jolting stop in the air just above the wrecked Jedi starfighter. Kenobi quickly commanded Cody to relay orders to shut the hangar doors and make the jump to hyperspace as he got out of the pilot's seat, striding quickly to the airlock and slamming his fist on the console, the hatch hissing as it opened, and the Sith stepped out, landing on the ground before the burning ship and grinning in delight as the Iktotchi Jedi Master scrambled out of the cockpit.

"This really is my lucky day, isn't it!" Obi-Wan said excitedly. "Saesee Tiin, you are a _legend_!" The Jedi reached for his lightsaber, but never got a chance to ignite it as blue lightning struck him in the chest, the Jedi lifted into the air as he was electrocuted and was unceremoniously thrown against a nearby wall. The hangar shuddered as the doors closed, and Kenobi could hear the high-pitched whine as the hyperdrive powered up. Within one minute, the remainder of the fleet would be in hyperspace and headed toward Separatist territory, and there was nothing the Republic could do to follow them.

Groaning, the Jedi rose to his feet, the Master shaking his head to clear the haze and the pain, and laughing, Kenobi lifted him into the air, his other hand extended to channel more electricity into the writhing Iktotchi. Cody slowly came to stand by the Sith's side, the _Umbra_ set down nearby, and the Sith could feel Grievous and Asajj hanging back and watching. He threw the Jedi again, the horned man sliding across the floor, his breathing ragged and labored, and Obi-Wan laughed in excitement as he sauntered toward the fallen Saesee Tiin.

"What's wrong, Jedi? Get up and fight, come now!" The ship shuddered, a low thrumming reverberating in the air as the _Negotiator_ entered hyperspace, and the Dark Side firmly gripped Kenobi. "Two Jedi Masters in one day, _two_ members of the High Council!" He laughed maniacally, the Dark Side raging through him completely uncontrolled, and Saesee shivered under the intense pressure of being so close to a nexus of the Dark Side. Slowly, the Iktotchi rose to shaking feet, only to have the Sith grab his mind, and he staggered forward, reaching for the comfort of the Force but finding only the Dark Side.

The Sith Lord drew closer, hand extended, and golden eyes blazing in sinister delight, and when he commanded the Jedi to kneel, he had no choice to obey, Kenobi laughing loudly as the Master prostrated himself before him. "Oh, this is the best day of my life!" he said breathlessly. "I'm on _fire_ , nothing can touch me today!" Laughing, Obi-Wan draped his arm over Cody's shoulder. "If ever you needed proof that the Force is with us, here it is."

The clone smiled. "I never doubted it, sir."

"Bad day for Ventress, bad day for Grievous, but _excellent_ day for Obi-Wan Kenobi!" He patted the clone's chest and let go, gripping the Jedi's mind and forcing him to crawl after him as he sauntered toward an angry Ventress. "Don't be upset, sweetheart, I can fix this for you."

" _How_ ," she snarled, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at the carefree Sith Lord. "Dooku is going to-"

"Dooku is _nothing_ ," Kenobi snarled, his temper flaring dangerously for a moment before it smoothed back into relaxed ease, and Ventress recoiled slightly at the rapidly shifting emotions of the Sith Lord. "I _own_ Dooku, my dear..." he drawled softly, laying a comforting hand on the Nightsister's shoulder. "Don't you worry about a thing, I'll fix whatever trouble you have with him. But now!" Kenobi patted Asajj on the back. "We're going to lock up my prisoners, and then we're going to spend tonight celebrating by drinking ourselves into a stupor! Gods of the Sith, let's make a week of it! Cody can vacation on Mandalore, and I'll expend myself to exhaustion inside Satine!"

Cody snickered. "Keep at it like that and you'll put a child in her."

"Oh, I certainly hope so. And after _that_..." He took a deep breath, his entire being relaxing into the embrace of the Dark Side. "Grievous can get repaired, I'll fix Asajj's troubles with Dooku..." Golden eyes fell to the pale, shaking Jedi on the floor, and a sinister grin crossed Kenobi's face. "And then I return to the art of breaking Jedi to my will. The Dark Side is rising. We cannot deny its call."


	55. The State of Things

The Senate had made a mistake. They had made several, but their last one was proving to be a bigger misstep than they could have anticipated. While the Jedi were engaging in the business of war, the Senate was getting involved in a crisis of their own. Battles fought across the galaxy were causing trade routes to be shut down, and several systems, in desperate need of food and supplies they could not provide on their own, were turning to the black market, smugglers, and other such criminal enterprises to have their needs met. A side effect of the galactic conflict seemed to be a new rise in the cartels that ran illegal operations, and unfortunately for the Senate, one such system was Mandalore.

Some business a month earlier put neutral Mandalore in the Senate's sights when Mandalorian warriors had attacked Republic ships, which caused a bulk of the delegates to believe that not only did Mandalore have Separatist sympathies, but they were raising an army of the fearsome Mandalorian warriors of old, soldiers born of a culture that once shook the Republic to its very foundations. The matter, as it turned out, happened to be a strictly Mandalorian issue, an extremist group that had risen against their pacifist leader, and a Jedi investigation had confirmed that not only were the claims against the Duchess unfounded, but the matter had been peacefully resolved. However, suspicions against the Mandalorians had remained, and all aid that had been issued to the Republic's long time ally had been severed. "If they wish to remain neutral in our time of need," the Senate argued, "than they could do without Republic aid."

Senator Amidala had called this a serious error, decrying the action as petty and selfish, insisting that it was a mistake to isolate their allies, especially the peaceful ones. Not only would it serve to make the Republic look as though they encouraged war by forcing peaceful worlds to capitulate in exchange for aid, bit it could also drive Mandalore and the fifteen hundred systems they were in alliance with to actually ally themselves with the Confederacy in order to aid their suffering people. Since Mandalore's domestic conflict had ended with the arrest of their Senator Tal Merrik, who was revealed as a conspirator to the Death Watch that sought to overthrow the Duchess, nobody in the Senate would speak for the peaceful Mandalorians, and Padmé made it her duty to champion them. After all, _someone_ in the Republic needed to stand for peace, and it may as well have been her.

As it turned out, Mandalore didn't need anyone to speak for the planet. The Duchess was doing a fine job of it on her own. In the weeks following the attacks in Sundari, Satine's approach to maintaining her neutrality had changed. They were still peaceful, fanatically so, but the neutral system was now actively working to secure their peaceful boarders, and this was none more apparent than in Death Watch themselves. Largely overlooked in the Senate as a local affair, Pre Vizsla, the leader of the Death Watch, came forward to publically announce not only his resignation as Governor of Concordia, but the Death Watch's new support for Duchess Satine's rule, admitting that not only were they wrong about the pacifist leader's perceived weakness, but that Satine herself was not simply a Duchess, but worthy of the title of Mand'alor. The nuance was lost on those outside the culture, but the title was given only to those Mandalorians deemed worthy to have it, possessing the ability to unite the warring Mandalorian clans under one leader into a singular force.

While the Senate dismissed this as simple semantics born from a successful attempt by the Duchess to negotiate a peace with her detractors, the Jedi were concerned by the developments. For a woman that had so vehemently rejected the violent history of the Mandalorian people, Satine had adopted the title with ease, quickly embraced the Death Watch as protectors of Mandalorian interests, and with the appointment of her sister, Bo-Katan, as governor of Concordia, the Duchess seemed to not only be securing her position against internal threats, but fortifying her peace by making it clear that the pacifists would defend themselves from any threat that arouse with swift efficiency. This promise was tested when discontent wracked Mandalore, after over a year of war causing food and supplies to run dangerously low, and the government had no way to secure provisions since all trade routes to the sector were closed due to the ferocious fighting. Black market activities spiked, and with it, corruption and greed took over, not just with the smugglers that brought in the goods, but with government officials that were willing to overlook illegal activity in favor of a percentage of the profits.

Satine was having none of it, and what ensued was a swift and decisive investigation of her own government, leading to a purge that resulted in the arrest of a number of her staff, including the Prime Minister Almec, leaving the Mand'alor with a much smaller government with a much longer reach, those that remained understanding in no uncertain terms that nobody was secure in their position if they were not competent and obedient to the will of their ruler. With Almec imprisoned indefinitely, Satine abolished the position of Prime Minister, declaring it unnecessary when centralized rule led to greater unity and more efficiency, and she had pointed to the Confederacy's and the Republic's innate corruption among its vast number of delegates. "Multitude breeds discord, not good council," she had said in a speech to her people, "and were the Republic and the Separatists united under a single voice, this foolish war would have been over _long_ ago."

It was a sentiment echoed in her people and within the Alliance of Neutral Systems, and Satine soon found herself as the singular leader of fifteen hundred systems as the planets in her alliance surrendered power to her, bolstered and emboldened by how quickly Mandalore managed every threat that came its way. She brought an end to the smuggling as well by discouraging the illicit behavior, and she did so by targeting the Hutt Cartel, which miraculously heeded the woman's warnings, and issued a very public statement to all its subsidiaries and contacts to avoid Mandalore if they knew what was good for them, for the Hutts would not be there to save them if they failed to listen. Not only did this end Hutt Cartel funded smugglers, but it put a swift end to all others as well, who decided that if the _Hutts_ thought Mandalore was too dangerous, it wasn't safe for anyone.

With the internal corruption and lawlessness solved, Satine set to finding a solution the problem of the trade routes to help ease her people's suffering, and for that, she set her sights on the Confederacy on Raxus, and more specifically, on their powerful allies in the Trade Federation and the Commerce Guild. The Jedi Order had watched this with great care. They had suspected that Satine was utilizing a shadow operative to conduct aggressive negotiations with her enemies, not to destroy them, but to make certain that they lived to warn others to stay far, far away from the seemingly docile pacifists, as they were proving to be far more cunning and dangerous than their peaceful facade let on. Given what they had known about Satine and her affiliations, the Jedi suspected they knew exactly who it was that defended Mandalore, and when Satine came out of Raxus not only with signed contracts with both the Trade Federation and the Commerce Guild, but a public alliance with the Negotiator, the smooth, charismatic man exalting her continuous commitment to peace, their suspicions were confirmed. When Qui-Gon had returned from his investigation on Mandalore, the Council had thought that what he had to say about his interactions with the increasingly dangerous Obi-Wan were flippant and dismissive, but now they saw the wisdom in his warning. _Don't touch his things_ didn't apply to just the Jedi, it was meant for the galaxy at large.

Which led to the grave mistake the Republic had made. With her new contracts in hand, Satine still needed the signatures of Lott Dodd and members of the Galactic Senate who's systems the trade routes ran through in order to secure the routes for trade to Mandalore, and she sought a guarantee from the Supreme Chancellor himself in the form of a signed treaty that he would respect Mandalore's sovereignty in the matters of trade, not only to the Mandalore System, but to all systems that the Duchess governed. After all, she had gotten a similar document signed by Dooku himself, and she trusted the Republic would see the benefit in allowing Mandalore to do as they wished. Countless others have, and as the world was peaceful and neutral in the ongoing war, there was no reason to deny them. Moreover, Satine's protected, war free worlds were proving to be appealing to weary worlds in both the Confederacy and the Senate, and after her visit to Raxus, several Separatist systems had left in favor of neutrality, and the Separatist leaders had made it clear that Mandalore was not to be touched. Whatever she was doing, it was working.

Not wanting to appear confrontational to the neutral system, and therefore more militant than their Separatist opponents, a committee headed by Padmé Amidala and Chancellor Palpatine met to discuss how best to receive this powerful, emerging new galactic leader, a task made more difficult by the Duchess herself when she demanded to have an escort of her choosing to make her comfortable in a Senate that had accused her of treachery not two months earlier. They had agreed, of course, to allow her to be accompanied by who she wished, and it was too late for them to back out when they heard that Satine would be bringing Obi-Wan Kenobi to the talks. After all, she had assured, the Negotiator had been the primary proponent of working things out civilly since the war began. They had made strides the last time he sat down with a member of the Senate, and with the war into its second year and with no end in sight, it seemed as good a time as any to come back to the table and try again. If the Republic was unwilling to try for peace, than he would simply serve as her guest.

Under Chancellor Palpatine's urging, the Senate had agreed, though some reluctantly and some not at all, that meeting personally with the Negotiator was long past due. And the Jedi Order, in the simplest of terms, was freaking out.

With Mace Windu confined to the Temple, Master Yoda secluded in meditation, and most of the other Masters either in the field or missing in action, Qui-Gon Jinn had taken Anakin Skywalker with him to the Senate building to attempt to convince Chancellor Palpatine of the grave mistake he was making in allowing Obi-Wan Kenobi to leave the Outer Rim, let alone allow him inside the heart of the Republic. So far, it wasn't working.

"I understand your concern, Anakin," Palpatine sighed, folding his hands on the desk and wearily watching the young Jedi furiously pace around and around his office. "But we cannot deny the Duchess a request to meet with us." He smiled kindly. "After all, she has purged corruption from Mandalore, which is what I have longed to do in the Senate for years. I was elected to the Chancellorship on this platform."

"This isn't about having _her_ here!" Anakin nearly shouted, throwing his hands up in the air. "It's about _him_! It's about the Negotiator!"

Palpatine waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. "The man has tried for peace more than once, Anakin."

" _Before_ , and _now_ , he's a war criminal! He's been fighting against us, he's killed Jedi! Master Shaak Ti is missing, Master Saesee Tiin was killed! He's wounded some and possibly crippled others! If he comes here, we will arrest him!"

Palpatine frowned. "I thought you were more astute than this. Wilhuff spoke so highly of you after the Battle of Kamino."

Skywalker stopped his pacing for a moment. "...wait, he did? I thought he was really mad."

"He seems to respect your skills as a commander," the Chancellor said. "He believes you still have a long way to go as a General, but he feels you have potential, and he finds your views a bit more...practical than your Jedi fellows."

Anakin beamed for a moment, looking back at Qui-Gon, the older Master looking sternly at the Chancellor, and the young man shook his head, his focus returning. "The Jedi won't stand to have that Jedi killer on the planet!"

"I was under the impression that he _hasn't_ killed any Jedi," Palpatine said, shuffling papers on his desk and watching Anakin nearly come out of his skin.

"He has," Qui-Gon said in calm, measured tones. "On Vassek, for certain."

"I thought General Grievous was responsible for those." Qui-Gon shook his head, and the Chancellor exhaled sharply. "Even still, the Jedi invaded a Separatist moon, as I am given to understand. Were they not the aggressors in this case?"

" _No, because he's a Sith Lord_!" Anakin shouted, his temper lost, and Qui-Gon hissed at him for silence, tugging his sleeve and pulling him down into the chair beside him. Palpatine only just barely refrained from rolling his eyes.

"Not this again..." he said wearily. "The Sith have been gone for a thousand years, have they not? Quite frankly, nobody in the Senate believes that they actually exist. This looks like Jedi infighting because you are displeased one of your own left the Order."

" _Infighting_?!" Anakin started again, beginning to rise, but Qui-Gon pulled him back down.

"You'll forgive my friend," Qui-Gon said softly. "I understand the Senate's concerns, Chancellor, and I suppose it doesn't matter what we believe of Obi-Wan. All that matters to the Jedi is keeping the Republic safe, and having him here may dangerous."

" _May_?" Anakin asked sharply, and Qui-Gon's fingers drummed on the arm of his chair, a knowing smile on his face, but he said nothing.

"Is there no possibility he wishes to have peace?" Palpatine asked, and Qui-Gon shrugged.

"I'm uncertain. Obi-Wan has shown himself to be reasonable in the past, though I believe that is subject to change, depending on the situation." He looked away from the Chancellor, thinking for a moment before he nodded and said, "Regardless of how these talks go, he will be here as Duchess Satine's guest. I do not believe he will be dangerous in this situation." Anakin looked at him, appalled and disbelieving, and Qui-Gon shrugged. "He's not an idiot. He won't try anything rash or foolish when it would be dangerous for him to do so."

"He's toying with us, Qui-Gon!" Anakin whispered to the Master. "He's showing us that he can go anywhere he wants."

Qui-Gon shook his head. "I don't believe that's what this is."

"Clearly he thinks he's safe here," Anakin growled. "We should arrest him as soon as he lands!"

Palpatine looked shocked, and stammered a moment before saying, "I will not have the Jedi Order acting out of turn! A rash action like that is an affront to diplomacy, and I will not have it!" He folded his hands before him again. "Senator Amidala and I have worked very hard to work out how best to negotiate with both Duchess Satine and Obi-Wan Kenobi."

Anakin bit his lip. "...Padmé's been working on this?" The Chancellor nodded. "She didn't tell me."

"Perhaps she feared you would act just as you are acting now..." Palpatine said pointedly, and the Jedi Knight sunk down in his chair, face stained red with equal parts embarrassment and shame. "This meeting will happen, my friends. The Senate tires of the war, and the Negotiator has said in the past that he will enter peace talks as soon as we are ready. We may be ready now. And if not..." He sighed. "He will be here regardless as the Duchess' guest. It seems a waste to have him here is we are not to discuss peace, but," the Chancellor smiled, "it may be good for us to meet as equals, without political pressure. After all, establishing relationships and forming connections with the right people is the art of good politics."

"He is in no way the right person," Anakin growled through clenched teeth.

"He is _absolutely_ the right person," the Chancellor insisted. "A high ranking, powerful Separatist commander with a commitment to negotiations and peace."

"Commanding troops on a battlefield is not being committed to peace, Chancellor!" Skywalker insisted, and Palpatine arched an eyebrow.

"Are the Jedi not committed to peace, Anakin?"

"Yes, of course we are."

"And yet _you_ serve as a General in the army. You have destroyed droid factories, have won countless battles, have commanded your troops to kill and be killed."

"In the name of peace, we are fighting for _peace_!"

"As is Obi-Wan, I imagine," he said, a knowing smile on his face. "Only he has expressed a desire to talk, and you have run into every situation lightsaber first."

Anakin clenched his teeth. "Qui-Gon, _help_."

"I agree with the Chancellor." Anakin groaned loudly, hiding his face in his hands. "There are two sides to everything, Anakin." Palpatine smiled, and Qui-Gon adopted a stern look. "But at the same time, Chancellor, you do not know what Obi-Wan is, nor do you understand his motivations. He can be reasoned with, yes, but without understanding why he is doing this, we must remain cautious of our dealings with him."

Palpatine started to say something, than closed his mouth, looking away as he reconsidered his words. "Do you believe," he said slowly, "that there is something more sinister going on with his alliance with Duchess Satine?" The Jedi said nothing. "We suspected she was working with the Separatists before, could this alliance of theirs not be new at all?"

"I do not believe Satine is associated with the Separatists," Qui-Gon said softly. "She abhors the war, and despite her...new approach to ruling Mandalore, I do not believe that has changed. The alliance with the Negotiator may be one made out of a desire for peace from both parties." Anakin looked at the Jedi curiously. Qui-Gon was _lying_ to the Chancellor, but...why? The Jedi Master knew full well the relationship between the two, so...who was he trying to protect?

Palpatine nodded, heaving a heavy sigh of relief. "So you believe he is committed to peace?"

"...in a way."

"I will take all this to heart when we meet with him." The Chancellor rose from his seat, waiving with his hand toward the door, indicating that the meeting was over. Anakin wearily stood, but Qui-Gon stated in his seat, his cold, blue eyes looking at the Chancellor with a stern, unyielding expression, and slowly, Palpatine sat once again.

"That isn't to say he isn't dangerous," Qui-Gon softly warned. "Despite what you seem to believe, Chancellor, Obi-Wan Kenobi is dangerous. He's strong in the Force, has a talent for mind manipulation that he carried with him from his time as a Jedi, and he knows it. Don't forget, in Senator Amidala's first meeting with him, he agreed to Force containment to make us feel safe. Harsher restrictions must apply this time."

"I don't know if-"

The Jedi held up a hand. "Contact him."

Palpatine looked shocked. "W-what?"

"Contact him. I know you can. In your last meeting with him, he said he could be contacted at any time were you to accept his terms." The Chancellor looked disbelieving at the Jedi and Qui-Gon smiled slightly. "Padmé and I are old friends. She told me all about it so I may give her an opinion. And now that you are on this committee together, you and she must be sharing everything on matters regarding Mandalore and the Negotiator."

Palpatine smiled sheepishly. "You have the right of it, Master Jedi."

Qui-Gon leaned forward in his seat, a smile on his voice, but his expression was intense. "Contact him."

"Padmé will be very cross if I contact him without her."

The Master shrugged. "You're the Supreme Chancellor, it's your right. And if it becomes an issue, you may tell her that I insisted."

The Chancellor was still for a moment, than sighed, pushing himself out of his seat and walking around the desk, activating the holotransceiver upon it, and tapped in the needed information on the datapad to send the proper transmission. Qui-Gon leaned over to his former student and whispered, "You can leave, if you wish."

"No," the Jedi said insistently, his voice calm and even, and Qui-Gon smiled when he felt that the young man had centered himself, his previous anger released into the Force. "Master Yoda says I must one day oppose him. I am...reconsidering my reluctance to have him here. If we can get close, we can learn something. He'll be concealing his true nature, but you told me once that even lies have hints of the truth in them."

Qui-Gon smiled. "You never fail to impress."

Anakin shrugged, brushing it off. "If he can get me angry when he's not even here, than I've already lost against him. This will be...an exercise."

The Master patted Anakin's shoulder. "Keep your answers short and noncommital if he addresses you. He thrives on emotional upheaval now, and I believe indifference will offend him." Anakin nodded just as a hologram flickered into being, a life-sized image projected in the center of the room as if the man was actually there, and a moment later, the two Jedi stood to look into the respectful, than highly irritated face of Obi-Wan Kenobi.

"Oh," the Sith said flatly, his eyes looking over the Chancellor. "It's you."

Palpatine bowed in respect. "It has been a long time, Master Kenobi."

"Not long enough. Where's Padmé? I expected the call to be from her."

The Chancellor laughed softly, and Anakin felt that it was almost nervously. The elderly Naboo Senator was far too meek to stand toe to toe with Obi-Wan. "I am Chancellor of the Republic, Master Kenobi. It's my duty to discuss matters of great importance."

"And you need to have a Jedi guard?" Obi-Wan asked, his eyes lighting up with curiosity more than anything else. "Did you mean to intimidate me with a Jedi presence, or do you simply fear me so much that you need the Jedi to make you feel _safe_." The cruel, mocking tone was not lost on the Chancellor, and he took a deep, calming breath, the Jedi sensing his mild annoyance.

"I was consulting with the Jedi, and your impending visit was discussed."

This time, the Sith smiled. "Yes, it seems I will be returning to Coruscant very soon. In the company of royalty, no less."

"Yes, well, when we discuss peace-" The Chancellor stopped when Kenobi began laughing in earnest.

"Chancellor, I have no desire to discuss peace, no matter what Mand'alor Satine's idealistic views lead her to believe. This war has been difficult and brutal and there is no end in sight." He shrugged. "Besides, I'm not coming to Coruscant as a Separatist, I'm coming because the Mand'alor asked me to."

"And why should she do that?" Palpatine asked, his voice low and suddenly sounding very suspicious.

"She and I are committed to the similar ideals," he said softly. "We both want peace, and she has achieved it. I support her reign completely, though I suspect she asked me to come because..." He sighed, rubbing his temples. "Idealists, you understand. She believes that if Separatists leaders and Republic leaders were forced to sit down and talk, we would see that we are not so different, and negotiations may continue."

"It's a noble ideal," Qui-Gon said softly, and Obi-Wan carefully looked him over, his brow knit in focus as if he were looking right through him.

"Yes, it is..." Kenobi nearly whispered. "Though it is not realistic, as you well know."

"Perhaps we _can_ reach an agreement," Palpatine said kindly, a small smile on his face. "We strive to end the war, but nobody said it would have to end in victory for one side. It could end in compromise. As the Duchess has somehow done."

"Perhaps, but not on this visit," Obi-Wan said swiftly. "Again, I'm not going on behalf of the Separatists, so I will have no power to discuss anything in an official capacity. I'm simply going to be there as a guest."

"Speaking of," Anakin said, and the Sith's eyes darted to the younger man, the corner of his mouth twitching, "let's discuss the security of your visit."

"Oh, are the Jedi going to be in charge of my security?" Kenobi asked, laughter and malice in his voice, and Skywalker smiled in return. "I'm certain I can protect myself."

"You misunderstand. Our security from _you_ ," he said pointedly, and Qui-Gon shot him a look of warning.

" _Anakin_..."

"No, no, he's right," Kenobi said softly, and all three people in the room stared at him in disbelief, the Sith Lord the very image of calm. "Don't look so surprised. This isn't Mandalore, we are no longer on neutral territory like before. This is your home, and I'm a guest. I'll gladly submit to your rules to keep all of us feeling safe and secure." He smiled, but those eyes looked alive with cunning. "After all, I fear that you Jedi would arrest me the second I arrive if I do not adhere to your rules."

"Yes, of course," Palpatine said quickly. "The Republic honors that you will be here under a neutral banner. You will have nothing to fear, Master Kenobi." Anakin felt his chest tighten. _This_ was how the Sith had planned to stay safe. By trusting the honor of the Republic and the Jedi, Kenobi guaranteed his safety. He felt himself burn, but quickly relaxed. There was, perhaps, an advantage to be gained in this.

Kenobi smiled. "I misjudged you, Chancellor Palpatine. Perhaps those from Naboo are simply of a higher mind than the rest of the galaxy." The Chancellor laughed sheepishly. "What are your conditions?"

All sorts of things rushed to Anakin's mind, but he managed to calmly say, "Your connection with the Force has been used to hurt Jedi during this war. The Order is concerned." The Sith's expression turned from expressionless to cocky. "We will require your Force connection to be blocked."

"Torture, Skywalker?" the Sith asked softly, and Anakin could feel the Chancellor's questioning eyes on him.

"It isn't torture, it-"

"Yes it is."

Anakin grit his teeth. "It's one of our conditions."

The Chancellor laughed nervously. "We cannot _torture_ guests..."

"No, it's alright." Kenobi sighed. "I have been told that Mandalore keeps the latest in Force suppression technology because of their...sorted history, and I'm given to understand that they have a wide assortment of devices that can do such. You may inspect it upon my arrival."

Anakin stuttered, trying to grasp for words, but he could find none. He didn't expect the Sith to _agree_ to such a thing. It was... _suspicious_ , almost as though he wanted it. It was Qui-Gon that finally said, "There will be a Jedi presence nearly everywhere you go."

"Oh, I'm counting on it," the Sith drawled slowly, though Anakin felt that he wasn't pleased. "I only ask that I may stay with Mand'alor Satine, wherever it is that she may stay. I am, after all, coming because she doesn't feel safe on Coruscant."

Qui-Gon smiled faintly. "I believe that can be arranged."

" _Without_ the Jedi."

The Master nodded, his faint smile growing slightly larger. "That should not be a problem."

The Chancellor smiled warmly, his hands clasped before him. "I am feeling very optimistic about this meeting, Master Kenobi."

"I am as well, Chancellor Palpatine," the Sith said quietly. "Perhaps someday soon, we can forge a new era of peace for the galaxy." The hologram flickered off, and the three occupants in the room breathed a sigh of relief.

"I'm feeling much better about all of this, my friends," the Chancellor said softly. "Thank you." Rising, the Jedi quickly dismissed themselves, leaving Palpatine's office in a hurry, and Qui-Gon took Anakin's arm and pulled him close.

Before Qui-Gon could say anything, Anakin whispered, "You lied to him. Why? You _know_ Obi-Wan and Satine are lovers, you said so yourself, so why not say so?"

"Never fully reveal your hand," the Master said. "Especially not with politicians. Even those with the best intentions cannot be trusted." He leaned closer to Anakin as they passed delegates as they were walking by. "Don't forget. We aren't to touch Obi-Wan's things. I want to develop something of a rapport, and he can go from agreeable to violent in an instant if he finds out that his personal affairs have been made public."

"You said he wouldn't do anything here."

"He won't. It's far too dangerous for him to do anything here on Coruscant," Qui-Gon said quickly. "Don't forget, the Sith have changed. They're careful now, subtle, and used to hiding. Obi-Wan will have been trained in this as well, and he's not an idiot. He won't attempt something stupid in the home of the Jedi. But he is also resentful. He will find a way to take it out on us later."

"You're probably right about that..." Anakin said softly. "I don't know, Qui-Gon, if he actually loves this girl..."

"He does. Even the Sith can care about things. I don't understand his motivations yet, but I think it may be unwise to block his abilities." Qui-Gon breathed deeply and prepared his counter argument, but the need for it never came because the Knight nodded in agreement.

"You're right. Doing things the way the Jedi have been isn't working. We need to do things differently. We can't sense his presence, but if we're keyed in on him, we should be able to feel if he's using the Force, right?" Qui-Gon nodded. "Besides, it seemed like he wanted to be contained. We can't give him what he wants. And...this might be my only chance to really get a good look at him. I need to know what I'm going to face. I mean, the Senate is supposedly under Sith control already, right? Maybe Obi-Wan being here will lead us to his Master."

Qui-Gon laughed. "The Council is _really_ going to hate this."

Anakin grinned. "The Council has been wrong at nearly every turn, so I think there's a good chance of this going our way. Our hands may be tied, but so are his."

"More than that," Qui-Gon said softly. "This may be our chance to see if it's possible to get Obi-Wan to begin to break away from his Sith Master."

"Do you think it's possible?"

"I don't know, Anakin, but I have a _very_ good feeling about this. Escorting his Mandalorian Queen to the heart of the Republic is more than diplomacy, it's _politics_ , and it seems like he's sending a message."

"You think it's to the Sith Master?"

Qui-Gon nodded. "He's amassed a large amount of power in a very short time. He's either trying to impress him, or threaten him, and knowing the Sith, it's both."

Anakin began laughing softly. "I never cared much for politics, but I can't _wait_ to see this."


	56. Control

The Force was all around her, thick and heavy and it soaked into her very being, so very familiar, and yet, it was greatly changed from the warm waters of the light, its gentle caress comforting and soothing. It still embraced her, enveloped her completely to the exclusion of all else, was still calming and soothing, but it's clear waters were gone, and what Shaak Ti sat in was an inky black sea through which no light could penetrate, it waters gently rolling with the promise of peace, but also with the threat of whipping into a violent storm at a moment's notice. _This_ was the Dark Side, as terrifying as she had imagined, but so unlike what the Jedi had believed. In it was the familiarity of the Force, but unlike what the Jedi had so often taught, nothing about it was twisted or corrupt. Here, in this place, the Dark Side was _balance_ , and she, as one with the light, was the intruder, the mild disturbance, the gentle waves in place of quiet calm occurring because of her presence.

She felt the darkness reach out to touch her, a light brush of her consciousness, and where the Jedi would usually recoil from such, it was so gentle, so comforting, that she allowed it. The pain in her physical form was soothed, her mind lulled into a calm state of deep meditation, and while she did not allow it within her, she did not drive the darkness away. This was the Force, after all, and while she would not accept the darkness, it was not for her to repel the living, breathing Force away from her. The dark touch brushed her again, but this time, with a smooth, quiet command.

 _Awaken_.

And she did. Her consciousness returning, Shaak Ti slowly opened her eyes, her blurred vision slowly sharpening to gaze around the opulent room, the walls made of black obsidian inlaid with intricate gold, the ceilings high and vaulted, the ground beneath her warm, and the large windows overlooking a roiling sea of glowing red lava, it's radiance bathing the room in stark shadows and eerie light. On the floor before her knelt Obi-Wan, a huge, pale, hulking rancor laying calmly beside him, and the Jedi felt her senses dull, her mind grow hazy as a comforting calm surrounded her. She knew the Sith Lord was exerting his influence over her, but she didn't seem to have the strength to fight it. Here, the Force was not her ally, but a willing accomplice of the Sith.

"Welcome to my home, Shaak Ti," Obi-Wan said softly, and the Jedi felt her chest tighten, her breath held as the Sith produced three Jedi holocrons from behind him and laid them out in a row between them. "Shall we skip the pleasantries and get right to why I have brought you here?" He indicated to the blue cubes. "I need you to open these."

" _Now_ you want to talk?" the Togruta asked, her focus returning as she looked at the holocrons that were stolen from the heart of the Jedi Temple. The Force here may not be her ally, but she could draw strength from these powerful artifacts.

"I don't want to talk. I want you to open these."

"I will do no such thing."

Kenobi smiled. "You Jedi always insist that I will not get what I want, but I _always_ get what I want. Eeth Koth gave me what I wanted, and soon enough, you will as well."

"You cannot force me to open these," the Jedi said softly. "You know you cannot. If you move the Dark Side through me to do your bidding, the holocron will not open. It will only yield to one that draws power from the light."

"I know." The Sith smiled in a way that Shaak Ti interpreted as almost kind. "And still you will open it for me."

"But _why_ ," the Jedi asked. "What benefit are Jedi teachings to the Sith!"

Kenobi shrugged, looking the Togruta over as she slowly moved her arms, tested her limits, found that there was nothing binding her, and the notion of escape immediately flew threw her mind. Her thoughts, in explicit detail, immediately revealed themselves to Kenobi, and he very quietly discouraged them, and in an instant, the Jedi Master grew uncertain. Obi-Wan smiled. "You cannot escape, Shaak Ti." Her black eyes were filled with confusion as she looked at him, and then sudden realization.

"You're in my mind."

"I am. You cannot expel me, so don't even try." He smiled, pointing a long finger to his temple. "I have spent time establishing a Force link with you. You can hide no thought from me."

"...how long have I been here?"

"Only two days." He waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. "You were unconscious. If it eases you, there was nothing you could have done. The Force demands this of me." He frowned, looking away from the Jedi for a moment. "Although, I have yet to truly understand why. Your capture has not altered my visions."

Shaak Ti pressed her hands together in silent observation of the Sith Lord before her. She couldn't sense his presence in the Force, just as the others who had been near him have said. However, unmistakable was the action of the Force itself, and when she closed her eyes and saw the inky black waters of the Dark Side, they were gently swirling, a whirlpool of energy that gravitated toward the Sith. It was as Yoda had said. Obi-Wan had become a vergence. Curiosity gripped her, and she watched as the Sith Lord frowned, his golden, glowing eyes narrowing in what looked like confusion.

"You believe your actions to be the will of the Force?" she asked gently, and Obi-Wan relaxed. Shaak Ti, like a good Jedi, had quickly come to accept her circumstance and was now willing to learn. She was not fighting the tides of the Force, she was swimming with them.

"I know them to be. It's not for me to decide, my destiny. The Force guides me."

Shaak Ti smiled softly. "That is not the mind of a Sith Lord. That comes from the mind of a Jedi."

"Does it." The finality in which he said it took her aback, and her eyes narrowed as she reevaluated him. "The Force led me to the Sith. I was meant to be here. I understand my Sith brothers have a more destructive approach to the Force, but it is that mentality which had led to the Sith's destruction in the first place."

"Obi-Wan, to bring balance to the Force, we-"

He laughed harshly, and Shaak Ti could feel a deep, gnawing in the center of her mind, an irritation like an itch she could not scratch. "It's Jedi arrogance to believe that the Force _must_ be held in balance by you. The Force will balance itself. That's why it led me to the Dark Side, that's why it brought me to the Sith."

"You think you are so important that you effect the balance of the Force?"

Kenobi shrugged. "I never wanted importance. I wanted a quiet life in the Jedi Order. I wanted to reflect and meditate on the nature of the Force and my place in it. And _you_ , the Jedi High Council, pushed me into importance when I slew a Sith Lord. The Force has shown me the hypocrisy of the Jedi." Those golden eyes seemed to blaze, and Shaak Ti clutched her chest as the air was taken from her, the annoyance in her mind blossoming into exquisite pain that overrode all her senses. The cool and gentle waters had become a tempest in no time at all, thrashing and raging against the tight control of the Sith, and in an instant, they broke through, as if Kenobi had simply let go, had willingly unlocked the chains that bound a terrible power.

"You wanted me to destroy the Sith, but you denied me the power to do so! You ask for us to be compassionate and understanding, and than demand us to remain aloof and unattached! You demand we serve the Force, and than you capitulate to the whims of a corrupt and greedy Republic!" The rancor at his side stirred, growling and snarling and opening it's large, dangerous maw in a roar laced with wrath and malice, and the Jedi fell back, beginning to scramble away, but she found herself unable to move when a voiceless command echoed in her mind, demanding that she remain, demanding that she submit. She pushed past the fear and ignored the command to submit, though she couldn't bring herself to move away.

"Obi-Wan, please, calm yourself!" the Jedi begged, holding her hands out before her as the rancor approached, grabbing hold of the Force and urging it to push the beast away, but the pale, horned creature seemed unaffected, and Shaak Ti didn't know if it was because of her own weakened powers in the presence of the obtrusive Dark Side, or if the rancor had simply been soaked in the Force for so long that it became resistant.

The frantic, desperate plea seemed to have an effect on the Sith, and for a moment, he seemed to shake, eyes closed and breathing deeply, and Shaak Ti could finally feel Kenobi's presence, strong and commanding and forceful as it reached out and attempted to envelop the raging storm. It wasn't working, and the Dark Side thrashed against him, and with a feral growl, Obi-Wan fell to his knees, his jaw clenched tightly and his hand extended out before him. As Shaak Ti felt the Force close around her neck, she watched as the golden eyes seemed to bleed, the edges of his irises turning a jagged, blazing red. The Sith was no longer in her mind, his attention diverted fully to obtaining mastery of the tempest, and she closed her eyes, projecting calm through the connection he had said they shared as she began to asphyxiate.

It worked. Slowly, surely, Kenobi began to regain control, drawing additional strength from the Jedi, and Shaak Ti could feel herself somehow... _weaken_. Resistance was draining her last reserves, and she was already weary, her body still recovering from the barrage of Force lightning she had experienced a few days prior. The red receded from Kenobi's golden eyes, his breath labored, and his presence once again concealed, the Force like a choppy sea, but a far cry from the tempest it had been moments earlier. As she looked at him, she could feel nothing but pity for the boy that was so clearly lost, the fires of the Dark Side blazing around him, and he had not the strength to keep himself from burning.

"What happened on Kamino?" the Jedi softly asked when the rancor had resumed its relaxed position at the Sith's side. Obi-Wan glared at her, but she simply smiled. "I had heard you were a reasonable man. I will not open your holocrons, and you will not release me. All that's left to do is talk, Negotiator."

After a long silence, Obi-Wan slowly said, in a voice that was husky and strained from his struggle, "You will be pleased to know that the Republic fought the Separatists off."

"That does please me," she said, smiling softly. "You speak as if you remove yourself from the Separatists."

Kenobi scoffed. "Semantics. Are you going to pick apart my every word?"

"Yes."

He sighed, rubbing his temple. "My interests do not always align with the Separatist cause, and as of late, it has been less and less." Shaak Ti held her breath. It was possible that Obi-Wan could be saved. The Sith laughed as soon as she had the thought. "Don't delude yourself. My interests _always_ align with the Sith."

"Oh?" Shaak Ti asked, a faint smile on her lips and a knowing look in her eye. "You always see eye to eye with your Master?"

"Not always, no, but he isn't the only Sith. He and I agree on many things, and while he may be blazing the path to our return, I will be shaping the future of the Order. My way is the only way that Sith may thrive under the continued support of a Force inexorably pulled to the Dark Side."

"You will turn against your Master? You cannot shape the future if he is there to command your actions."

Obi-Wan breathed deeply for a moment. "I cannot shape the future at all like this." The Togruta could feel the man's emotional shift, from pride to something that could almost be regret. "My ability to control the Dark Side has faded, as you saw. One does not achieve mastery by allowing the Dark Side to feast upon you. I need... _help."_

Shaak Ti gasped in understanding. "This is why you need the Jedi holocrons?" He nodded. "I fear you are misguided. A Jedi holocron will hold nothing for you, the Jedi do not practice control of the Dark Side."

The Sith Lord growled deeply. "You are wrong. The Force is the Force. It ebbs and flows between light and dark, but it is _all_ the Force. A Jedi has as much to teach me as the Sith, and I will become stronger for it. I have _seen it_."

Shaak Ti's interest in the man slowly began to grow. This wasn't _just_ a Sith, certainly a long way off what the Jedi had believed the Sith to be. Obi-Wan was intelligent and focused, had grown to be a nexus in the Force, had clearly suffered visions because of them, and the pulling of the Force upon him was leaving him violently powerful and dangerously unpredictable. As the Jedi had discussed, it seemed that the Sith were, in fact, their own greatest enemy, as the young fallen Jedi clearly had ambitions that went beyond his Master. If Obi-Wan, Master of the Sith, would be easier to deal with had yet to be seen, but Shaak Ti had a feeling that somehow, it would be preferable. This wasn't a man to be fought. This was a man that needed help, and she could give it to him. If she just-

 _No_. The Togruta shook her head. The thought was her own, yes, but...

Her eyes narrowed. She heard no commands, felt no pull upon her consciousness. She felt the Force within her, gently guiding her actions, but that was all. Was he still able to manipulate her?

"Do you have visions often?" she asked softly, still trying to clear her mind of her rogue thoughts, and Kenobi nodded.

"All the time."

"The Force must...truly favor you, then." Had Obi-Wan been right all along? Was the Force truly leaning toward the dark? It would explain a great deal, if that were the case. Even still, even knowing that the Sith had risen again, the Masters couldn't find them, their sight clouded by darkness and their visions hazy, and from right underneath them, not a single one of them had felt the Dark Side in Dooku, the Dark Side in Obi-Wan. Was the Force actually... _protecting_ the Sith?

Shaak Ti violently shook her head. _No_. It may have explained everything, but...

"Does it? The Force may have given me power, but it has taken my control."

"You are unprepared for what it means to be a vergence." Again, the Sith's eyes narrowed in confusion, and this time, she felt a push in the back of her mind, soft, slight, simply an easy brush of her consciousness that quietly suggested that she explain. She was going to anyway. "You have become a nexus in the Force, Obi-Wan. Your very _presence_ calls it to you, alters its shape."

For the first time in a while, Obi-Wan was stunned. A _vergence_. It's what Qui-Gon had called Anakin, the reason the Jedi Master had abandoned him, the cause of all his hatred and envy of young Skywalker. The very reason for his turn to the Sith. Had he always been this way? Was it possible that Obi-Wan had always been a nexus, and the Jedi simply never saw fit to tell him? Or did this only come to pass when he had embraced the Dark Side, creating a vergence of darkness to counter Anakin's presence in the light. That seemed more likely. After all, it was Anakin's discovery that started Obi-Wan on his path to the Sith. But then... _why_. Why would the Force produce a nexus in the form of Anakin Skywalker, a bastion of the Jedi, when the Force craved the Dark Side? Was he born in response to some Sith misstep over twenty years ago? If so, than why force Kenobi to the Dark Side to become Darth Lumis? Had the Sith lost, and than suddenly regained favor? Obi-Wan frowned, taking a deep breath as frustrations began to mount in his mind. He would have to meditate on this.

"Are you certain I am this... _thing_?" Kenobi growled, and the Jedi slowly nodded.

"There is no mistaking it. Master Yoda felt it in you as well."

Rage welled up inside him. A _nexus_. A being so strong, so present in the Force that its mighty river was coaxed and compelled to change course so that it may run towards the source. And Sidious had never told him. Had never explained the cause of his visions, had never taught him the control required to keep him from drowning when the waters rushed over him. No, Sidious chose instead to sit back and watch, allow rage to consume him, provoke and encourage it to rise within him in violent fury, but had yet to teach him how to reel it in when needed. It had been _months_ since he had felt his control fail him, and his Master had yet to show him the way to Mastery.

 _Sidious was holding him back_.

The thought was a quiet one, and one that came from the Force itself. Darth Sidious was fashioning him into a weapon, a sword made of the Dark Side itself, and he kept Obi-Wan desperate and wanting by denying him the instruction he needed to truly become a Master. Sidious was _afraid._ The realization hit him hard, but it rang true within him, and Kenobi found himself unconsciously grabbing one of the blue cubes before him, Shaak Ti looking at him with interest and... _awe_.

"I need you to open this _..._ " Kenobi said softly, holding the holocron out to the Jedi, and she hesitantly took it.

"You can do this thing yourself, Obi-Wan. Let go of the Dark Side, come back to us."

"You know I cannot." He ran a hand roughly over his head, leaving the neatly combed blond hair ruffled. "I belong with the Sith. The Force has led me here. Even you must feel this."

"...yes."

"Then _please_ ," he said, golden eyes wide and pleading, and the Jedi felt her resolve tremble. "You have already sensed that I do not always agree with my Master, and it's something of a tradition for the apprentice to bring about his Master's end." He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "I can do it. I'm stronger than him. But without control, I am nothing but a beast, and the Jedi have made an art out of control. I need to learn. You can help me."

Obi-Wan spoke smoothly, easily, and it was... _soothing_ to listen to him, and Shaak Ti could feel the Force slowly drifting to her fingers, the holocron in her hand faintly lighting at the breath of the Force untinged with darkness. "Even if I could, there is no guarantee that what you will find in these holocrons will be any help."

"I have a feeling they will."

This was it. The Jedi held her breath as she realized what she had the power to do. The Council had talked about turning the Sith against each other, and she now had the power to set this plan into motion. If she helped Obi-Wan obtain mastery, it was only a matter of time before Kenobi rid the galaxy of this hidden Lord of the Sith. That this would make Obi-Wan, a living Force Nexus, the new Sith Master was a risk, yes, but a calculated one. After all, an enemy they knew was far better than one they didn't, and the Jedi had their own vergence in the form of Anakin Skywalker, and Anakin would not go at this task alone. Master Yoda had said that Anakin and Obi-Wan were destined to fight, and if Skywalker could accomplish this when Obi-Wan reigned as the Sith Master, than the Jedi could not lose. Anakin was surrounded by friends and family, supported by the likes of Master Yoda and Qui-Gon Jinn. Obi-Wan Kenobi, after the death of his Master, would be alone, and the Jedi would prevail because of it. Despite herself, Shaak Ti couldn't help but feel... _melancholy_.

A slight smile pulled at the corner of Obi-Wan's mouth, and the Jedi could feel a sudden rush of delight in the Force. "What are you thinking?" he asked, the slightest touch of the Force on his words, imperceptible in its gentleness, and Shaak Ti took in a long, shuddering breath.

"I see you as the Sith Master."

"Do you..." he said, his voice a low, smooth purr, and the Jedi's breath hitched when she felt the gentle caress in her mind, filling her with warmth and comfort, and despite the soft, gentle warnings in the back of her mind, she felt herself accepting it. "What is it like?"

"It's..." Her breath hitched, stopping the words from tumbling carelessly from her mouth. "You're...powerful. _Magnificent_. Your presence in the Force is overwhelming."

"And it isn't now?"

She felt it then, deep within her, something that she had realized before but only truly understood now. She couldn't discern her thoughts from the will of the Sith Lord. She _knew_ he was within her, sitting at the very core of her being and slowly, carefully inserting a stray thought, the mildest of suggestions, and she could feel herself tighten when she realized that, upon inspection, she could feel none of the Dark Side within her, none of the snaking tendrils of the Sith Lord's considerable darkness infiltrating her mind, none of what she had been actively searching for. Shaak Ti closed her eyes, shaking when she felt that her mental defenses were solidly in place, and not a crack upon them. And yet, Obi-Wan was within her, and not using a touch of the Dark Side to do so.

His infiltration was a quiet one, one born from the Jedi's own practice of the Mind Trick, but turned against the Master, not to dominate or overpower, but simply to quietly suggest, gently nudge her into having a thought, an idea, a belief. And all without the wrath of the Dark Side. It was the cunning of a Sith matched with the powers of a Jedi, the pure use of the Force turned to sinister purpose, and Jedi Master Shaak Ti had allowed this to happen. She had lent her his control, had allowed him to use her to bolster his hold on the Force, and now, with control firmly in place, Obi-Wan kept the Dark Side at bay, and in a state of calm and control, he had touched the Force, gently coaxing it to influence his target, as so many Jedi had done before. It only worked on the weak willed, the unintelligent, and Shaak Ti was neither of those things, but Kenobi had been applying this practice for as long as they had been speaking. A Jedi would have quit. A Sith would not.

"Answer me, Jedi," Obi-Wan whispered, the sinister light in his eyes growing brighter.

"...yes. With the right control..." She swallowed her words, tightly clutched the holocron in her hand. "You could achieve such heights...you'd be a Master."

Kenobi breathed deeply, seeming to saver the very words in the air. "You're almost there, my dear. Come now, say it."

The Jedi didn't think twice before she breathlessly uttered, " _Master._ "

"Mm, there it is," Kenobi drawled, chuckling as he watched the Jedi seem to waver. "I _told_ you that I was within you, did I not? I told you I would have what I wanted." He pushed the other two holocrons to her. "And you decided to serve me, all by yourself."

"You influenced me! Master, you did this!" She gasped, her hands flying to her mouth when she realized what she had unconsciously said, and Kenobi laughed loudly.

"You have the Force to thank for that, my dear!" Kenobi drawled, reaching out and lightly dragging his fingers down the length of her leg. "I needed you to come to serve me, and you came to me on your own. I barely had to push." Kenobi smiled gently when the Togruta looked away, and he could feel the thoughts in her mind betraying her, quickly sorting through which were her own and which had originated in the Sith's gentle suggestion, but she could find no way to distinguish them. Desperately, the Jedi reached out to the Force, and Obi-Wan could feel it answer with a single command: _submit._

"I've learned something valuable from you, Shaak Ti," Obi-Wan whispered. "Subtlety is far more dangerous than forceful subjugation, and with enough patience, one can make a person willingly _beg_ for chains." He flashed her a genuine smile. "Open the holocrons."

Slowly, the blue cubes rose into the air, a soft glow surrounding them, and moments later, the three holocrons were opened.


	57. Manipulations

Obi-Wan leaned over the table where the infant lay, concentrating as he examined his dark skin, dark eyes, felt the child's latent Force sensitivity, as was expected, given the parents, and he took quick notes on his datapad. This was the first of many children that would be born to the Korun people that had been captured on Haruun Kal, and Obi-Wan had been _very_ interested to see the results of this particular breeding experiment, this natural result brought about by Sith alchemical manipulation. With his careful study of the Sith holocrons, and with _plenty_ of subjects in the form of first the Korun, and now the Twi'leks, Obi-Wan's talents in the study of Sith Alchemy had been progressing quickly. At first, it was a slow process, the change taking place over the course of a month, than a few weeks. Now, Kenobi was capable of creating these Sithspawn, as the holocron called them, in a matter of days.

More brutal, more cunning, and more intelligent than their original selves, the Dark Side saturated through these beings until they were corrupted, altered, the Force changing them down to their very foundations. They were a superior fighting force that lived in servitude to the Dark Side of the Force, a weapon that Kenobi was planning to unleash upon the battlefield the next chance he got. All that was left now was to see how deep these changes went, how throughly altered they had become, to see if Obi-Wan's manipulations had effected them so deeply that their very biology, their very nature was changed, and that could be seen in the results of the Sithspawn's savage coupling. Those results were just now beginning to come to light, and very, _very_ soon, all the Korun females would have given birth to children spawned by Dark Side manipulation.

If the child was altered physically, Obi-Wan couldn't see it. It may have been that the child was simply too young to tell, or that these changes simply took generations to fully alter. It would have been terribly disheartening if Kenobi didn't sense that the child wasn't just Force sensitive, but the infant seemed to have a natural pulling toward the Dark Side. It was something, and it spoke to how deep the parents were indoctrinated to Sith control. Over time, a particularly rebellious species could be tamed and made to serve, and the change wouldn't just be in the effected, it would be in future generations as well. This wasn't just cultural indoctrination, it was genetic enslavement, turning submission to Sith will into a biological need like eating or drinking.

He had changed the method with the Twi'leks, partially out of curiosity, and partially because the clones had taken a liking to the females, as so many species did. The Twi'lek race was culturally subservient anyway, so Obi-Wan saw no trouble in allowing his clones to keep the unaltered females as pleasure slaves. The males, however, were quickly experimented upon, transformed by the Dark Side, and Kenobi quickly tasked them to breeding with their female counterparts. If the changes observed in the offspring of two Sithspawn could be seen in the product of only one effected parent, than it opened up a whole new world of possibilities on what could be done to a population of people were he to loose his creatures upon them. Children warped and twisted by the Dark Side, compelled to serve their Sith Overlords, could be forced upon those that rejected their rule, and such a thing only needed to happen once before the population understood what resistance meant.

Of course, most of his female Twi'leks were now thickening with child, and it occurred to them that instead of pure, Sith altered Twi'leks, the children they produced may be half breeds. It was... _irritating_ , but he supposed it was a little thing to reward his clones for their faithful service.

Obi-Wan closed the datapad and turned from the child and the medical droids that attended it and left without looking back. There was so much research, so much study that needed to be done, and simply not enough time to do it, and the ongoing war only made it more difficult. He understood _why_ Sidious had not ended the foolish conflict yet, but all the same, Kenobi was growing weary of it, longing for the day when he would rule the galaxy, or at least a part of it. He walked quickly through the palace, coming to the dungeons, where he kept his more... _wilful_ guests. Saesee Tiin was locked up down there, untouched since his capture nearly a week ago. Obi-Wan hadn't decided what to do with him yet, but the man's bellowing and desperate slamming into the walls with his horned head in attempts to escape forced Kenobi to take action. He still hadn't touched the Jedi Master, but he did move the Iktotchi into a new cell with thicker walls and a companion in the form of the hopelessly broken Eeth Koth to serve as a reminder of what the Sith was capable of. It seemed to have the desired effect, for Saesee Tiin had been silent ever since.

Kenobi's destination, however, was not so deep in the dungeon as his unbroken Jedi Master. Pushing the control on the wall, a thick door opened, and a red force field flickered off as he entered Shaak Ti's cell, if it could be called that. It was spacious, well furnished, and considered a luxury next to the sparse, bare rooms the Jedi usually kept. If not for the manacles on her wrists and ankles, the slaving collar around her neck, or the fact that she could not leave the room, Shaak Ti looked like a free woman.

The Togruta immediately knelt when the Sith entered, eyes cast at the floor, and she didn't move from that position, even after the door had closed and Obi-Wan had settled into the large, comfortable armchair he had placed in the room for his use. It was only four days since she had first opened the holocrons to him, and while she did exhibit some resistance and defiance in the first few days, the thoughts that he had planted within her, quietly urged her to accept and make her own, had grown cancerous, saturated into her mind so completely that they overtook all her other beliefs and slowly warped them to fit with the pervasive voice in her mind. Obi-Wan was a Lord of the Sith, one with the will of the Force, her Master, and he needed help. As a Jedi, it was her duty to follow the dictates of the Force, and that meant obeying this Sith. The other day, the last of her defiance had died, replaced with profound subservience. And she had chosen it herself. It was _perfection._

"Shall we begin?" Obi-Wan asked softly, and without moving from her place, Shaak Ti levitated the Jedi holocrons from a small table, the blue cubes glowing as they opened and came to float before the Sith. Extending a long finger, he gently touched one of them, and it began to slowly spin, and the other two closed, returning to their place on the table. Lightly, he brushed the Jedi's consciousness, and her black eyes met his as she looked up, rose, and came to kneel beside the chair Kenobi sat in. The Sith sunk down into the chair, his ankle crossing over his knee as he closed his eyes, his hand stroking the pointed montrals upon the Jedi's head, and she shivered, a soft, indistinguishable sound coming from her throat as she swiftly grasped her Master's leg, her long fingers running down the inside of his thigh, and Obi-Wan could feel her mental walls lowering in her submission.

Chuckling softly, Obi-Wan closed his eyes, continuing to stroke the sensory organ that was proving to be so distracting to the Togruta. "Be mindful of your defenses, Jedi," the Sith chided. "The Dark Side is strong here. We don't want it getting inside you." Shaak Ti softly gasped, and Kenobi felt her defenses reenforce, and with the Togruta protected, he turned his full attention to the holocron.

His senses were correct when he felt that the holocrons would be of use to him. They contained information on very old Jedi practices that were still in use today, and while the way they were taught did not apply to him, Obi-Wan trusted himself to be clever enough to translate the abilities into ones that could draw from the dark instead of the light. The holocrons contained information on manipulating nature, precognition, and most importantly, the ability to cloak oneself from sight, which he was now listening to. All three were invaluable, and both the holocron on precognition and Force cloaking delved a great deal into meditation and control, which was essential to successfully obtaining mastery of the skills. It was _exactly_ what he needed, and though the abilities were still beyond his reach, the control techniques were not. In time, with the control he gained, he'd find a way to use these abilities, translate them into Dark Side fueled versions of the same thing. He had the knowledge. He just needed to develop the skill.

Obi-Wan never did anything in halves, and he threw himself into his studies, his quick mind easily achieving full understanding, his considerable Force talent allowing him to execute what he had learned, and in just a few days, he had felt much more centered. While the Dark Side still gripped him, still hissed and roared for control, Kenobi was slowly bringing it to heel, and the darkness was forced to reluctantly obey. There was still a long while to go, but he suddenly felt more like himself than he had in a long time. Slowly, he began to distinguish his will from the will of the Dark Side, as well as from the will of the much greater Force as a whole. It was empowering to find himself against such cosmic powers, to see that even he could cast a distinct shadow on the waters of the Force.

The hissing of the door opening and the cessation of the low hum of the force field brought Obi-Wan out of his focus, not moving, but yellow eyes looking sidelong at the door as Cody entered, saying nothing, but watching the Sith and the Jedi. Kenobi sighed. "What is it, Cody."

"I apologize for interrupting, sir," the clone said, and Kenobi frowned when he felt... _what_? Tension? Desire? A mix of both, perhaps, and the Sith chuckled deeply. He had felt similar from the commander on their way back from Kamino, and Obi-Wan realized that while his clone brothers were expelling their tension inside the Twi'leks, Cody was _always_ working. He was a rare clone that, perhaps, had a slightly more exotic taste than his brothers. It was possible he desired the Force sensitive Togruta. The Sith had half a mind to give the faithful commander what he wanted. "The Mand'alor has arrived."

Obi-Wan grabbed the holocron out of the air as he stood, the device closing as he handed it back to Shaak Ti. "When did she arrive?"

"Her ship just entered the atmosphere. It will be docking shortly." Grinning, the Sith draped his arm over the clone's shoulders, leading him from the room, tapping the controls on the wall as they left, and the force field reactivated as the door hissed closed.

"You're a good man, Cody."

"I try to please, my Lord."

"You do." Kenobi silently gauged the clone, brushed at his mind to sense his feelings. "We _have_ pleasure slaves, Cody," Kenobi said softly, and the clone's broad shoulders tensed.

"I'm aware, sir." He frowned. "Are you in my head again?"

"Me? _Never_." The Sith laughed easily. "You're just shockingly easy to read." Cody grunted his disapproval. "Do you desire the Jedi?"

Cody bit his lip. "I just find her...alluring. I rarely see her kind." He paused, his mind racing. "Is it different with a Jedi?"

"I don't know, I've never been with a Jedi."

Cody hissed through his teeth. "Some help you are..."

"I don't know if she's ever been with anyone, Cody, her Order stands against such things." He snickered when he felt the clone's desire increase. "If you wish it, my friend, I'll put the suggestion in her mind to make her receptive."

"I'd like to first try on my own. _If_ you'll give her to me."

"She's yours. I've no use for the Jedi beyond my training. She'll do better servicing you than just waiting upon my whims." Cody said nothing, but Kenobi could feel his pleasure, his gratitude, and a renewed will to serve.

They reached the port just as the _Coronet_ was lowering its ramp, and a retinue of guards emerged first, followed closely by Mandalore's Duchess, who smiled and pressed past her soldiers when she saw the Sith Lord. Kenobi quickened his step, leaving Cody behind as he met his lover, the two tightly embracing.

"I told you I would come to Mandalore, Satine. Mustafar is so far out of the way, and we'll be leaving soon for Coruscant."

"I happened to be in the area." She smiled slyly when Obi-Wan gave her a look of confusion. He had not heard about this. "I was on Eriadu to meet with the Tarkins."

Kenobi scoffed. "Eriadu is a staunch supporter of the Republic. If you are looking to expand your alliance, you are searching in the wrong place, my love."

Satine smiled, laid a hand on his bearded jaw. "It's not all about expansion, and it's not something I must work at. Systems come to me regardless of whether I try or not. This was about our trip to Coruscant."

"Are you worried?"

Satine gave him a dismissive glance. "Please, Obi, I am not _you_."

He laughed, though it was forced. "I am not worried."

"You are." Her hand drifted down to his neck and gently kneaded the tense, corded muscle. "I've been navigating politics all my life. I have nothing to be worried about. Regardless of what happens, I win." The Sith kissed the palm of her hand as he placed it in the bend of his elbow, and they slowly began making their way into the palace.

"What happened on Eriadu?" Kenobi asked softly.

"I met with Wilhuff Tarkin. We talked about my rule of the neutral systems, we talked about the war, and we talked about _you_."

"... _me_?!"

Satine shrugged. "He was sizing me up, as is expected, and he saw you on Kamino. Blowing up the main hangar, I believe is what he said."

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. "And you met with a military man to discuss politics?"

"He was Governor of Eriadu before the war, and he's closely acquainted with Chancellor Palpatine." Kenobi's jaw clenched. "He knows the state of the Senate, and that's important for me to know before we arrive. The Republic is..." She thought for a moment a smile on her lips. " _Concerned_. It would seem that Mandalore has suddenly become _very_ intimidating."

"Mm, I wonder how that happened."

"Captain Tarkin assures me, however, that Chancellor Palpatine is doing all in his power to ease their concerns and make them receptive to us." Her lips pressed into a thin line. "However, the Chancellor's assurance has done nothing to placate the Jedi."

"We knew the Jedi would be a problem, Satine..." Kenobi whispered, but the Duchess shook her head.

"Not if we manage this right." She gripped his arm with her other hand and pressed herself closer as they entered the massive living room, the wall of transparisteel letting in the glow of the lava rivers, massive Yoda warming himself beside it. "Senator Amidala and a Jedi contacted me earlier. They said they will no longer require your connection with the Force to be blocked." Kenobi held his breath. "They say its torture, and the Republic does not condone such barbaric practices."

"What are they planning..." Obi-Wan said to himself, absently leading the Duchess to a long, comfortable couch, and he didn't sit until Satine pulled him down with her. The rancor slowly crawled on its belly to rest beside his Master.

"What they are planning doesn't matter, Obi, because you are going to give them nothing to work with." She smiled softly, putting a hand on his chest. "This is my domain. Allow me to manage it."

He nodded. "As my lady commands."

"Which is why I need you to socialize."

Kenobi groaned loudly and ran a hand over his eyes. "Satine, I am _garbage_ at social functions..."

"You are personable and charismatic, and you have a gift for talking, or you wouldn't be the Negotiator."

"That has nothing to do with-"

"It does." The Duchess took a deep breath. "I know you use the Force to get your way, but the Force isn't your only gift. You are going to come with me as my guest, and nothing more. No politics, no talk of possible peace negotiations, no talk of the war..." She kissed his neck, the Sith softly groaning under her. "There are already rumors about us in the Senate. They say you're a Sith..." Satine whispered, punctuating it with a languid kiss on his lips, and Kenobi seemed to purr in satisfaction. "That you're a war criminal..." Again, she kissed him. "That I am in league with the Separatists..." And again. "That ambition has made me a dangerous despot..." With a sly smile, she crawled into the Sith Lord's lap, his elegant hands stroking her hips. "They already say we are lovers."

"Who is they?"

"The Senate. Wilhuff alluded to it." She cupped his face, running her thumbs over his high cheekbones. "And before you think it was the Jedi that informed the Senate, they came to the conclusion on their own. Apparently, these rumors began when they found out that you and I will be housed in 500 Republica _together_."

"What shall we do about that?" Kenobi asked softly, his voice strained with tension, and the woman on his lap ran a soothing hand through his hair.

"About that particular rumor?" She shook her head. "Nothing. Those will exist anyway. But the others we turn around if you follow my direction and _socialize_." Kenobi's mouth turned up into a sneer. "I mean it, Obi."

"I can't see how it will help."

"It will help," she said slowly, "because they are interested and afraid of the Mandalorian alliance, and they will want to learn all they can about us. And _you_ , my darling Lord of the Sith, are going to win them over with the power of your personality, just as I will do. We put them at ease, and not only will we get what we want, but the rumors about us will suddenly become favorable. He's _not_ a Sith, he's a misunderstood former Jedi. He's not a war criminal, he just believes in peace, and has been _vilified_ for it."

"The Jedi-"

"The Jedi know better, yes, but the Jedi are simple to discredit. You have done a fine job laying the groundwork for that. The Order has nearly broken itself on you." She kissed the tip of his nose. "But you must do as I say, and you cannot use the Force. The Jedi will be there, and they will never look away. Know that, and use it to your advantage."

Kenobi drew her hips closer to his and kissed her hard, only parting from her when he felt the Dark Side in all its passion stir awake. "Where did you learn to be so cunning?"

She shrugged. "Politics. All the good politicians are."

"You have no need for politics, Mand'alor Satine."

"I do so long as there is a war and opposing factions I must deal with." A slight smile passed over her lips. "But that won't be for much longer. I am in talks with several Confederate systems that wish to join my alliance, and watch how many Republic worlds will flock to me after our visit to Coruscant."

Obi-Wan chuckled. "If you keep expanding at this rate, you're going to need a standing military to defend your peace. I can't be everywhere at once." Satine's entire presence in the Force suddenly shifted, going from a comfortable, clever ease to suddenly and desperately wanting, and it happened so quickly that Obi-Wan was taken aback, gasping when she rested her hands on his sides and slowly began stroking, her eyelids lowered seductively.

"I wanted to talk to you about that..." she whispered, her soft voice lined with the promise of _anything_ the Sith Lord could have wanted. "As it turns out, taking the violence out of the Mandalorian culture is...far more difficult that I had believed. My people yearn for peace, yes, but we are a people of strong tradition. I've managed to redirect our warriors to the defense of our empire, and _many_ have joined with the Death Watch to do so. But it's not enough."

"That's why you have me, my Mand'alor..."

"And I love you for that, my Obi-Wan..." She pressed herself full against the Sith Lord, the man groaning as she nipped at his neck. "But we need warriors to enforce our peace. And your clones are Mandalorian."

"Satine, are you trying to manipulate me to get what you want? Because you _don't_ have to do that, I'll just give it to you. "

"You will?"

"Not these clones, but I can get you others. I know how." Obi-Wan quickly kissed her cheek, the hands on her hips pushing her slightly away from him so the placement of her body was less compromising for his control. "I was unaware you needed an army."

"I was as well, and than I went to Raxus." She sighed heavily, laying her head on his shoulder, weariness overcoming her.

"You'll have your soldiers, Satine, but you need to outfit them. Having a stolen clone army running around on Mandalore won't do."

"I'll contact Bo-Katan about producing more weapons and armor. She will be pleased about that." With a heavy sigh, she nestled against him, closing her eyes and listening to the slow, strong beating of his heart. "How do you say I love you in Sith."

"Tunulis nu."

She slowly repeated it, deciding she liked the way it rolled off her tongue. Her progression in Sith had been much, _much_ slower than Obi-Wan's prodigiously quick fluency in Mando'a, but he had often told her that there was a reason the Sith language had died that went beyond the extinction of the Lords of the Sith. "The Republic tried to delay our meeting." The Duchess felt the man shift under her.

"Are they nervous, or is this some underhanded political thing?"

"It's both."

"When do we leave?"

"Two days." Obi-Wan's chest quickly expanded with a tight, nervous breath, and Satine reached up to lay a comforting hand on his cheek. "You need to trust me. I wouldn't be going if I didn't know I would come out on top, and I wouldn't have brought you into the heart of enemy territory if I didn't think we could benefit from it."

"I know you're exceedingly clever, Satine, it isn't just that." She looked up at him with her inquisitive blue eyes, and he sighed, absently combing his fingers through her hair. "My Master will be watching."

"Is that good?"

"It could be." When he said nothing else, Satine hissed in irritation and hooked her arm around his neck and pulled, the Sith Lord jerked off-balance and she pushed him back, shifting around so she lay on top of him, thin arms folded over his chest, a small smile on her lips as she looked into his golden eyes.

"I know you can tell me nothing of your Master, Obi-Wan, but if you don't tell me how he will act when he's watching us, I can't help manipulate the situation in our favor."

"I don't know if you can beat him in this game, Satine."

"Perhaps. What does he think of me? _Honestly_."

He took a deep breath, searching her face and feeling warmth spread through his chest. Soon, this woman would be his Queen, and they would rule the galaxy together, and it all began here, in this small empire they had created. "He believes you to be my pawn. You are shaping up to be a fine tool of the Sith."

"Than he underestimates me. What is he looking for in this?"

"Well..." Obi-Wan looked away from her as he collected his thoughts. "What you have done, the empire you have created is something of a... _test_. A small scale representation of what's to come. What happens on Mandalore will serve as a guideline on how we run the Sith Empire, so he is invested in its success, especially when our alliance will be so easily absorbed into the Empire." His face darkened. "But this is also a threat, because he did _nothing_ to make this happen. You and I amassed a huge amount of power in a very, _very_ short time. Two months to purge the alliance of traitors and corruption and establish yourself as the sole ruler. Another month of perfect peace within your boarders, and you are sending a _very_ strong message to the galaxy. Not only can Mandalore have peace in a time of war, but they are strong enough to protect it."

"So he believes he is becoming obsolete."

"No. He is the Lord of the Sith, in his estimation, there is nobody more important than him." Satine stifled a laugh, and Kenobi quickly kissed the smiling woman. "Careful, my love, this is serious," he gently chided, though he was smiling as well. "But he will see this for what it is. It's a promise of future greatness under the Sith, and it's a dangerous threat that this empire can exist without him."

Satine was silent for a moment, drawing circles on the soft silk of his robes with a long finger. "What do you want to do? Reassure him, or threaten him?"

"Satine, he will be both, he-"

She kissed him hard to silence him. "Reassurance, or threaten?"

"...reassure." Kenobi said after a short silence. "It's too early to declare myself as dangerous to him."

"Than trust me to leave him feeling reassured."

"...how?"

Satine threaded both hands into his hair, giggling softly as a look of irritation at his ruffled hair crossed his face. "I don't know yet. But I have two days to figure it out."

"I can always smooth things out afterwards with him." A pang of concern ran through him as he looked at her resting on his chest, and for a moment, he felt the Force pulling at him, warning him, though against what, he wasn't sure, and then there was a dull, empty ache in his chest, like he had suddenly lost something important. The Dark Side growled menacingly around him, and while it felt subdued, it also felt... _dangerous_. Far more dangerous, more powerful than he had ever felt it. Satine saw the sudden flash of emotion on his face and her hand quickly went to stroke his cheek.

"What's wrong?"

"...I-I don't know," he muttered quickly, shaking his head to banish the feeling. "Listen, this is dangerous, Satine. More than you know. If he's insulted, or threatened...I don't think he'd kill me, but I _know_ he'd kill you."

The woman bit her lip, and in desperation, Obi-Wan reached out and grabbed for her thoughts, but didn't find her afraid or the least bit concerned. Her quick mind was running through possibilities, ways to avoid this, and there was a confident fierceness in her that distinguished her not just as brave, but as a true Mandalorian. She may not have had the Force, but Mand'alor Satine Kryze was _Sith_. "So..." she said, measuring her words. "We make me indispensable to him and his plans."

"Nobody is too important to save, my love."

"Than we make sure I am valuable enough to keep around." With a sly smile, she reached down between them and stroked the tight skin between his hips, and the Sith Lord hissed, his hands quickly shooting to grab her shoulders. "Your Sith Empire will be ruled by powerful Force sensitives trained by you and your Master, right?"

"That's the idea."

"We have seriously talked about having children before, but we have both been...busy. If you are truly this...center of power in the Force, and if the talent is passed down, than our child will be uniquely powerful."

Kenobi breathed a sigh of relief when the warning in the Force melted into warmth. "You want to use our child to shield you from him."

"Would it work? If we seriously began attempting-"

"This is the sort of Force manipulation that he and his Master used to engage in. If I talk to him, if we..." Kenobi bit the inside of his cheek. "I believe I can work this to our advantage."

The Duchess breathed a sigh of relief, and until she relaxed against him, Kenobi didn't realize how tense she was. They had two days to plan, two days to look at the board. All the pieces had already been moved into place, and now, it was their move.


	58. The Galactic Senate

It felt like the entire Jedi Order and half the Senate had arrived to greet the _Coronet_. It was, admittedly, a pretty huge deal, but Anakin thought that it was becoming little more than a sensationist event, and that never helped anything. What was worse were the throngs of holonet news reporters and their crews standing by to record the entire event, and their presence was making him even more nervous than he already was. He could feel the tension of the Jedi around him as well, their collective unease about having a Sith Lord in their midst a strong reminder of how vulnerable they had become, and their anxiety was driven even further by having the likes of Kit Fisto and Mace Windu among them, physical reminders of what the Sith they faced was capable of.

Yoda wasn't worried, of course. Neither was Qui-Gon, and Anakin had spent a great deal of time meditating on what it meant to have Obi-Wan on Coruscant, and he too had come to the conclusion that they had little to fear by having him there. After all, if what they believed was true, than there was already a Sith Lord in the Senate. What did it matter if there was another one? Even still, their collective anxiety was making him nervous as well, and he had ventured away from the Jedi toward the Senators, not so that he could be around them, but so he could grab C-3PO from Padmé and take the droid away so that he could upgrade him.

The Jedi were concerned about the wrong things. Obi-Wan was far, far too smart to try anything in the heart of the Republic, something that Qui-Gon and Yoda had tried to ease the rest with, but to no avail. The Senate was also in a panic about the Mandalorian state, which was something that Chancellor Palpatine and Padmé had taken great care to reassure the delegates about. They were not worried about this powerful empire that had risen from the vulnerable neutral systems. Tarken had said that such a thing was expected, for uninvolved systems in a war torn galaxy are quickly made into battlegrounds if they are not protected. That a massive number of neutral worlds would band together to keep the galaxy at bay was just the natural course.

Anakin found himself agreeing with Chancellor Palpatine and Tarkin on the matter of the Mandalorians. Regardless of what was behind Mandalore's rise to power, it showed the galaxy that not only could peace be achieved, but it could be protected. That was an important message, and even if there _was_ a Sith Lord bedding the Duchess, Satine at least seemed to hold to her peaceful ideals. Qui-Gon's last trip to Mandalore several months back had led him to assure that Kenobi wouldn't alter Satine, even when it would have been in his advantage to do so. Qui-Gon may have been correct on this point as well. It was possible that there was still some light in Obi-Wan Kenobi in the form of a deep, profound love for the Mand'alor, and protecting that may be driving him to break away from the Sith Master. This meeting was important because it gave the Jedi a chance to observe Sith machinations at its finest. It was their first and possibly only chance to actually see what the Sith were actually up to, even if everything would be hidden and veiled, not by the Dark Side, but by politics.

He removed the central panel on C-3PO's chest, much to the droid's displeasure, and Anakin couldn't help but smile as he relaxed. "I hardly think this is necessary, sir," the droid said. "All my functions are working at their optimum capacity."

"I disagree. How are your language skills?"

The droid took a step back and emitted a noise that made him seem offended. "I am proficient in over seven million forms of communication, sir!"

"I know, I built you." Anakin sat back on his heels and smiled up at the shiny gold droid. "How's your Sith?"

"My _what_?"

"Sith. The language originated on Ziost and Morriban over seven thousand years ago, and it fell into obscurity at the end of the Sith Wars. So how's your ancient Sith, 3PO?"

The droid was silent for a moment, its processors whirring as it searched its databanks. "I...am unfamiliar with this language," the droid finally said in marked disappointment, and Anakin patted the gold arm, holding up a data chip in his other hand.

"The Jedi have some data stored on the language. I couldn't find much, but what there was is on this." He reached into the droid's chest and pulled out a small datablock, and inserted the chip, the small device beginning to hum as the droid integrated the material, and Anakin replaced the device and secured the central panel. He was so engrossed in what he was doing that Skywalker didn't hear Ahsoka quietly sneak up behind him, the small hand on his shoulder making him jump. Like all the Jedi, she was concerned, but it felt...different.

"What are you doing, Skyguy?" she asked cheerfully, but her voice was tight and forced.

"Upgrading Senator Amidala's protocol droid. I want to see if it can learn Sith."

"For..."

"Because we're getting a _Sith Lord_ here in a minute, Snips, and if he starts talking weird, I want to know what he's saying." Ahsoka laughed, but it almost sounded nervous, and Anakin stood and leaned in towards her. "What's wrong?"

"This whole thing is crazy, isn't it?"

Skywalker nodded. "That isn't why you're so tense, though." The Togruta bit her lip, looked over her shoulder to make certain nobody was close enough to hear, and than leaned in toward him.

"I'm worried about Master Quinlan," she whispered. "He hasn't been the same since Kamino, and that was almost three weeks ago."

"Everyone's on edge about that. Two members of the Council went missing, that's cause for concern."

"They didn't go missing, we _all_ know what happened," the Padawan snapped, crossing her arms, and Anakin sighed. She was right, of course. Everyone knew what the actual objective of the attack on Kamino was, but nobody was willing to actually admit it. Shaak Ti and Saesee Tiin were better off dead than where they actually were, and Anakin secretly hoped that they fought so hard that the Sith was forced to kill them, instead of allowing him to take them captive and do...whatever awful things it was that he did.

"Obi-Wan was a close friend of his. Maybe he's just anxious about seeing him."

"...maybe." She sighed. "He _did_ say he wanted the chance to talk with him. But I don't think it's just that, he's been acting weird since before we even knew about the Mandalorians coming to Coruscant."

Anakin craned his neck up to see if he could catch sight of the Kiffar Master, but the crowd was too thick, the excitement too high as the massive _Coronet_ starliner flew gently into the port and docked, the loud thrum of the engines slowly fading into a dull hum as the ship powered down. C-3PO quickly made his way back into the crowd, Ahsoka turning to rush away as well, when Anakin stopped her with a firm hand on her shoulder.

"I'll keep an eye on him, alright?" The Togruta looked away, her lips pressed in a thin line, and slowly, she nodded.

"Thanks, Anakin."

Smiling, he pat her on the back and pressed her forwards. "Come on, we don't want to miss this." The Jedi parted to allow them to pass, but it still took a fair amount of jostling to get to the front where Qui-Gon, Yoda, and Quinlan were standing, watching as the boarding ramp was extended, and Anakin could feel the collective and sudden tensing of the Senators and the Jedi as Mand'alor Satine and Obi-Wan disembarked together.

It was Palpatine that greeted them first, bowing deeply to the Duchess and warmly clasping Kenobi's hand. "I am so grateful that we have the privilege to host you on Coruscant, Duchess Satine," the Chancellor said, folding his hands behind his back and carefully appraising the pair. "I believe the Republic can stand to learn a great deal from you. For you to emerge to a state of galactic power in such a short time has been alarming from many, but I believe it speaks to the people's desire for a swift end to this war."

"I believe you are right. Perhaps we can find common ground so that we may aid you in achieving that end." She gestured to Obi-Wan at her side. "I understand that you are familiar with my companion."

"I am, yes. I know Obi-Wan from his days as a Jedi Knight."

Kenobi smiled warmly. "That was a long time ago, Senator. It's a shame that we find ourselves on separate sides of this foolish conflict." His golden eyes drifted to Senator Amidala, the young woman stepping forward to stand beside the Chancellor, and he bowed his head. "My lady, it's good to see you again."

"I'm glad you are well, Obi-Wan. I'm pleased that we share a friend as reasonable as the Duchess." Kenobi only barely repressed a grin when he felt the confusing mix of emotions within the girl, ranging from desire to resentment, and that passive touch of the Force was all it took to bring the Jedi down upon him. Before he even saw them move, there was a circle of the Order's best around the four of them, hands on the lightsabers at their waist. Eying them cautiously, Kenobi put his hands in the air in surrender, a slight smirk on his face becoming a wide grin when he saw Mace Windu."

"Mace! Good to see you up and about!" came the Sith's delighted chirp, and the only thing that kept the Jedi from drawing his purple lightsaber was that Yoda held his stick firmly upon it."How the back?"

" _Fine_ ," the Jedi Master growled, and Obi-Wan sighed heavily, his hand laid upon his chest.

"Thank the Force for that. I do apologize about that mess on Haruun Kal, Master Windu. It was... _unfortunate_ that we had to meet like that."

"Your glibness does you no credit, _Kenobi_ ," the Master snapped, spitting the words as if they left a foul taste in his mouth, and Qui-Gon laid a hand on his shoulder, pulling him back into the circle when the Korun Master took a step toward the Sith. Qui-Gon inclined his head toward Obi-Wan, and the Sith cautiously did the same.

"You'll forgive Master Windu. He is understandably sore when it comes to you."

"It would be strange if he wasn't," Kenobi agreed, wiggling his fingers on his raised hands. "But there's no need for such hostility. I'm unarmed. I left my lightsaber at home."

Qui-Gon smiled softly. "At home? Not even on the ship?" At this, the Sith grinned.

"What need have I for a lightsaber when I'm to be protected by my former Jedi friends, brothers and sisters? It's the least I could do when the Order so graciously allowed me to come here without having my connection to the Force... _disrupted_."

The Chancellor gasped in something just short of horror and disbelief. "The Republic is of the opinion that removing the connection to the Force is akin to torture to those with the inclination. We have forbid such a practice to be used on diplomats as a sign of trust and good faith." Palpatine smiled almost shyly. "However, you won't mind if we do _check_ to make certain you are unarmed, as you say."

"Be my guest..."

Satine's eyes narrowed as a Jedi stepped forward and began to roughly run his hands over Kenobi. "I understand there are a fair number of rumors circulating here on Coruscant about me and Obi-Wan. Is this how you are justifying your hostile treatment of my guest?"

Palpatine dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand. "Please, Duchess, the Senate pays no mind to rumors. I'm sure you will find that you and your... _companion_ shall be treated with the utmost respect. The Jedi are simply..." He paused, hand coming to his chin as he looked at the Jedi around them, the one that had searched Kenobi completing his task and roughly shoving him as he found nothing upon the man. "They are _cautious_. This war has taken a toll on them as well."

"Then it would do the Jedi well to remember who they serve, and adopt your more agreeable position." Palpatine nodded and raised his hand, and slowly, the Jedi began to step back until only Qui-Gon remained standing silently before them, and Kenobi could feel his deep blue eyes boring into him, his blinding Force presence reaching out to touch his consciousness, and Obi-Wan could feel the Dark Side, already tightly chained within him, shrink back as if it desired to fade into nothingness. This was why the Jedi had allowed a Sith Lord into their home with no means of containing him. They had attuned themselves to him, and even the slightest touch of the Force did not escape their detection. They were _observing_ him, just as he was carefully monitoring his Master. He'd have to exercise caution. He'd already planned with Satine not to use the Force, but he didn't think that the Jedi would be able to sense a passive touch, a cursory look, a simple attuning of the senses.

His eye twitched as he brushed Qui-Gon's presence away from him, only to find the Jedi to be undeterred and reach out to him again. This time, Obi-Wan reciprocated, the lightest touch reaching out hesitantly toward that blinding light before he swiftly withdrew, the concealed and cowering Dark Side thrashing in protest, and he stepped closer to Satine. The Jedi were watching him closely, and despite his concealed Force presence, they could still feel when the Force moved around him, reached out on his behalf, acted in his interest. It would actually _alert_ them if they could feel nothing, so Kenobi relaxed, reaching out to feel Palpatine, Padmé, the enormous Twi'lek representative, even the Jedi themselves, who all tensed and reenforced their defenses. A cursory feel of their surroundings was common of Force user, especially of the Jedi themselves. This was expected, and what's more, he could easily guide the Jedi's attention in this way.

"If you would follow me, Duchess," Palpatine said kindly, gesturing with his hand away from the ship and toward the distant towers of the planet's senatorial district, "we can get you settled in. We're having something of a celebratory gathering tonight, and we would be honored if you'd attend."

A small smile crept across the Duchess' face. "Is it customary for the Republic to put social events before work? That is how governments fall into disarray. If it's all the same to you, Chancellor, I'd like to conduct our business first, and celebrate our accomplishments after."

Palpatine seemed to balk. "What, now?"

"Immediately," was the Mand'alor's hard, swift reply. "We can rest as soon as the work is done."

"The proceedings will end for the day in just under two hours."

Satine held her hand out to the Chancellor, and stunned, Palpatine took it. "Then we better conclude our business quickly."

* * *

"He's doing it again."

"Anakin, stop, he's doing it because he _knows_ we're watching him." Anakin didn't listen to his former Master. He kept the macrobinoculars firmly in his hands, looking over at the hover-platform that belonged to Mandalore, once occupied by Senator Merrik, who was now imprisoned in a Republic detention facility, and was now occupied by Duchess Satine and her fallen Jedi. The Sith had his attention away from the proceedings, his eyes looking down at something he held, and Anakin couldn't see what it was from behind the railing that encircled the platform. Periodically, those golden eyes would dart up and look directly at Anakin, a smug smirk coming across his face before he'd turn his attention back to what he was doing.

"I _really_ don't like this, Qui-Gon."

"Be at ease, Anakin. His mind is calm."

"Than he is _calmly_ up to something." The Sith moved again, this time to sit up straight and look directly at Anakin, and the young Jedi _knew_ that Kenobi could see him. Slowly, he held up a piece of paper and grinned, and Anakin zoomed in, groaning loudly as he read what the Sith had been working on, a note written in a thick black elegant scrawl that read, ' _If you keep staring, I'll think you're interested in bedding me_.' Anakin dropped the macrobinoculars and hid his face in his hands. "I'm going to kill him. So help me, I'm going to kill him..."

Qui-Gon leaned back in his seat and chuckled. "My biggest regret continues to be my handling of Obi-Wan. If I hadn't pushed him to the Dark Side, I feel you and he could have been fast friends."

"I find that unlikely..." Anakin said, dismissing the idea entirely. "He's too evil for me."

"He wasn't always that way. Once, he was modest and reserved. He would have made a fine Jedi Master."

"What could have been doesn't matter anymore, Master. What matters is _now_." He brought the macrobinoculars back up to his eyes and looked once again at the Sith, squinting even through the magnified image. Something wasn't right. "He's a bit older than me, yes?"

"By fifteen years."

"How is it that he looks my age then?"

Qui-Gon leaned over the rail, listening intently to the Chancellor speak before he answered. "I've suspected for some time now that he's somehow using the Force to keep himself young."

"...you can do that?"

The Master shot the Knight a warning look. "Don't get any ideas, Anakin. That is a dark power, born from vanity and selfishness. It's a grave misuse of the Force, and there are consequences for leeching off the Force in this way."

Sighing, Anakin leaned back and closed his eyes. This assignment, in a word, was the most droll thing Anakin had ever had to do, and he was already beginning to long for the battlefield. The war was less painful than sitting there and listening to _politics_. A newfound respect for Padmé began to grow within him. The negotiations for use of the trade routes was derailed quickly, however, when the Senate demanded to learn about Mandalore and how they came about this peace when the entire galaxy was ready to be torn asunder.

Satine had smiled slightly and brought her platform floating to the center of the enormous chamber and quietly explained, not just about the alliance that she reigned over, but about her change as well. How personal betrayal at the hands of the politicians and advisors she trusted most, many who had stood by her to help bring her into power, forced her to look at how she had been running Mandalore. She had come to her throne after a violent and bloody war, which brought with it an abhorrence of violence that seeped deep into her being, as it did to the people she ruled. She ruled with a pacifist's ideals, which worked, until it did not. Her trust, her unwillingness to show the forceful dedication to maintaining all she had gained, had bred corruption and dissent, and the story seemed to resonate with the delegates that sat within their seats.

However, instead of allowing Mandalore to decline, suffer from greed and corruption and the dissatisfaction of those that saw another future, Satine had abandoned her hands off approach and found a way not only to bring her political opponents into agreement with her, but to eliminate the problems that plagued her government by strengthening her position. With the commitment of the Death Watch, no longer detractors, but enforcers, she had swept through her government and removed the corrupt and criminal elements, leaving her with a _very_ small court and a position of absolute power given to her by the people, not as Duchess, but as Mand'alore. Other neutral systems followed suit, asking her to rid their own governments of the problems that plagued them, and before she knew it, an Empire was born. It was further secured when she had reached out to an old friend, one of the men that helped put her on the throne to begin with. That he was a Separatist had nothing to do with it, and he left the Confederacy behind when he ventured to Mandalore to help her secure her territory, as he had done when they were young. It wasn't political. It was _friendship_.

And that's when the trouble started.

"You would ally with a _war criminal_!" one of the Senators had shouted, completely out of turn, and the entire room had erupted into chaos, some vehemently in agreement, some shouting their opposition to the notion, others crying for both sides to be silent, and no matter how valiant his efforts, Palpatine and Mas Amedda couldn't regain control of the floor. Rolling her eyes, Satine nudged the man at her side, and Obi-Wan covered the woman's ears and whistled sharply, long and loud, and the transceivers that surrounded the central platform amplified the sound to such a pitch that every occupant of the room swiftly covered their ears, their auditory canals, or any organ they used to perceive sound. They were deafened long after the sound ended, but the Senate had fallen silent, Satine standing with her hands folded before her, the man at her side wincing as he touched the Force to clear the ringing in his own ears.

"Are you all quite finished?" the Mand'alor asked calmly, and she suddenly had the attention of every creature there, complete command of the Galactic Senate. "Cooler heads will prevail, but I can see that is an impossibility until this matter is addressed. Let me tell you _exactly_ what I think on this matter. I don't oppose this war just on humanitarian grounds, I oppose it as an affront to life itself!" She pointed to Obi-Wan. "You call this man a war criminal, but for _what_? For fighting in a war against you? Are all Separatists evil criminals of war simply because they happen to disagree with the Republic?"

"That isn't what we are saying, Duchess," Palpatine began, attempting to backtrack when he saw that the woman had caught their attention, but Satine held up a hand and silenced him.

"If Obi-Wan Kenobi is a war criminal, than so is _every_ Jedi that has taken to the battlefield, and so are all of you, for allowing this to continue!" Her eyes narrowed as she looked about the massive chamber. She couldn't see them, but she could feel the tension in the room. She lightly brushed the Sith Lord's fingers, and he gently pressed at the small of her back, urging her to continue, his senses directly connected to the feelings of her audience. "The Republic has created millions of beings specifically made to fight, and your Jedi and your Generals every day lead them to their deaths, and they were never once given the option of doing anything else! This is a _slave_ army, and it is an insult to the freedom you claim to stand for!"

The representative from Kamino laughed harshly, moving her platform from the wall to be beside the Duchess in the center of the room. "We were right about this woman. She is financed by the _Separatists_. Just listen to her!"

Satine just smiled. "And _you_ are financed by the Republic. Tell me, how much did this clone army cost to produce? How fantastically wealthy have you become by keeping the war machine turning?"

"It is not _my_ faultthat wars are expensive!" the Kaminoan hissed, backtracking slightly, but it was enough for Satine to laugh and shake her head in disbelief.

"No, it isn't your fault, and it isn't your doing. But you are corrupt and greedy, like so many others, and you have _no right_ to speak out against me when you would trade lives for _credits_ , so _return to your place_." The elderly Kaminoan sputtered for a moment, looking around and listening for support that she did not have at the moment, and quietly moved her platform back to its place on the wall. "For the record," Satine said softly, "I had the same discussion with Count Dooku. The same thing applies to them. They may not be making clones, but they are _murdering_ them. I condone none of this, which is why I have created my alliance."

"The Jedi fight for justice!" another called out, though they could not see from where. "The Jedi say that man is evil! They say he is _Sith_!"

Hushed, nervous muttering and soft, dismissive whispers again filled the chamber, and Satine put her hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder. "I think he should respond to this rumor himself," she said, and Kenobi tensed for a moment before he dipped into the Force to calm himself. He felt the swarming of a hundred Jedi minds around him, but he slowly waved them off and sunk deeper until the only thing he could hear was the humming pulse of the Force and his heart beating in time with it.

"As I'm sure many of you know, I was once a Jedi Knight," he said, voice calm and smooth and even. "The Sith are our mortal enemies, and the phrase has been thrown around a lot lately. When I was a Jedi, I killed a Sith Lord on Naboo, a Dathomiran Zabrak called Maul, and we later determined that he was the Sith apprentice, not the Master." He took a deep breath and looked away for a moment, feeling the room and finding them attentive. "For a thousand years, we have thought the Sith were extinct, only to have them rise again. The Jedi are correct. There _are_ Sith out there, but there are only two and they stand against a thousand Jedi Knights and Masters. The Sith are no threat to anyone."

"But are _you_ Sith?" a voice, tight and nervous, called out, and Obi-Wan centered himself, drowning out the pull of the Jedi upon him.

"The Jedi know the name and identity of the new Sith Apprentice. _Darth Tyranus_." He smiled and shivered theatrically. " _Scary_. The Jedi know him to be Count Dooku, as I am certain they have said countless times. Am I correct in that assumption, Chancellor?"

Palpatine started, as if he had lost focus and was suddenly brought back to the moment. "Oh, um...y-yes, on many occasions."

"Now, I killed the last apprentice...twelve years ago? It has been quite some time since I was a Jedi Padawan, and quite a bit has changed since then. I will put this to you, the Galactic Senate. It was painful for me to leave the Jedi, more than I can possibly say, but the rift between us had grown so deep that I could not in good conscious continue to stay with the only family I had ever known. I left to make a difference where I thought I could, without the aid of my brothers and sisters." His face dropped, and his smooth, emotive voice became cold, his crisp accent making it harsh and commanding. "There are only two Sith, in accordance with the ancient Sith Rule of Two. If Dooku, Darth Tyranus, is the Sith apprentice as the Jedi claim he is, and has been since I killed Maul when I was a _very_ young man, how could I _possibly_ be the Sith Master?"

There was silence, deep and profound, and Kenobi could feel the Jedi, tense and afraid and outraged, each one of them recoiling away from his consciousness and hiding behind their walls. "Perhaps the Jedi are wrong," Palpatine said softly, pointing an accusing finger at Kenobi. "Perhaps Count Dooku, this... _Darth Tyranus_ is actually the Master, and _you_ his apprentice."

Obi-Wan scoffed loudly. "I can see how you would think that, but Dooku has nothing to teach me. What's more, I have no respect for that self-righteous fool. We may agree on politics, but nothing else, which is well documented among the Separatist Senate. Ask them if you don't believe me, I know many of you still count members of the Separatists as friends. It wasn't long ago that they served along side you right here. It's honestly a disappointment that the Jedi haven't thrown themselves in force at Raxus or Serenno. Many would die, yes, but if the Count were the Sith Master, it would be worth it. Not attacking him may be a strategy. Dooku may eventually lead the Jedi to his Master, and it's a tactic I am _very_ much in agreement with. Were I still a Jedi, I would have done the same."

"Very well, you've made your point," the Chancellor muttered. "But the Sith could have changed. Perhaps they abandoned the practice."

Kenobi shrugged. "It's possible. But I wouldn't know a thing about that." He could feel the entire Force tighten with the silent, muted fury of the Jedi. "But if I were to guess...the Jedi Order hasn't changed in thousands of years. As practitioners of the Force, why should the Sith be any different?"

There was silence, deep and profound, and through the angry pulsing of the Jedi, Kenobi could feel acceptance in the Senate. Softly smiling, he stepped back behind the Duchess, the woman drawing up straight and tall. "War is _intolerable_. You have all been deceived into thinking that you must be a part of it. Anyone who wishes to throw away their arms and accept peace is welcomed within the protected boarders of my empire. We will not be victims of this conflict. We will rise above it."

Throughout the Senate, hundreds of delegates from hundreds of systems roared with applause.


	59. The Dark Tide

Obi-Wan was dutifully doing exactly as Satine had commanded and was socializing. After all, it appeared to be a night where doing exactly what the Mand'alor wanted was simply what the Force demanded. She had gotten _everything_ she had wanted out of the Senate. With free access to all trade routes controlled by the Republic, and a treaty signed by Chancellor Palpatine that promised not only an official recognition of the Mandalorian state, but a promise of friendship between the two governments, there was nobody left to deny that Mand'alor Satine Kryze had achieved unprecedented galactic power. And all this happened under the watchful, helpless eye of the Jedi Order. Truly, the Force was with the Sith that night.

Most of the Jedi had returned to the Temple, leaving behind some of the most powerful in the Order to watch over the extravagant party the Senate had hosted, one that was originally intended to ease the delegates into dealing with the Mandalorian Queen now repurposed to celebrate their successful negotiations. Obi-Wan carefully navigated the crowd, politely making small talk and turning on the charm when they pressed for more information, but he made certain to keep his eyes on Satine. The woman was _fine_ , but she had been speaking rather closely to Chancellor Palpatine for some time, and while he was certain that what they were discussing was harmless, what Sidious was _actually_ discovering about her had him worried.

He sighed when another serving droid approached him with yet another tray of drinks when it saw his hands were empty, and he took a glass to make the damnable thing leave him alone. He wasn't drinking, of course. He had _never_ been good at it, and while he was much improved from his Jedi days, he still got inebriated quickly, and tonight especially, he needed to keep his wits about him. The delegates, however, didn't seem to share his prudence, for most were well on their way to drunkenness. No wonder the Republic was falling, and with this level of decadence and over-indulgence, it was a shock it hadn't collapsed sooner. But soon, it would be over, and this corrupt, wasteful system could be put out of it's misery. _Soon_.

He could still feel the blinding presence of Qui-Gon around him, still could feel the Jedi's oppressive hold on the Force, despite their smaller numbers. Master Jinn would have been enough to deter him from action, but they kept Quinlan Vos, Anakin Skywalker, and Yoda among their ranks, and they were doing little else but monitoring his actions. Jedi perseverance was beginning to fray at his patience, and he was suddenly overcome with the need to get out. Between the shameful excess, the fawning politicians, and the constant, ceaseless prodding of the Jedi upon his consciousness, Obi-Wan was beginning to feel like he couldn't breathe.

Passing his glass off to a Rodian who had already drank _far_ too much, Kenobi excused himself from the group he was talking with and found his way out on to a balcony, the large deck completely vacant, save for a Zeltron female tucked into the shadows and enthusiastically engaging in some _highly_ inappropriate activities with Kaminoan. Obi-Wan took a deep, long breath of the frigid night air, his tension releasing as the chill entered his lungs and spread through him. It was unseasonably cold, which explained the why the patio was largely unoccupied, and while Obi-Wan made a point to complain about unfavorable climates, Sidious had forced Kenobi in the early years of his apprenticeship to endure the intense cold of Mygeeto, where he had nearly frozen to death, forced to draw upon the Dark Side to save his life. The cold no longer bothered him.

"Did you think you could get away?" The voice was deep and rasping and angry, and while Obi-Wan recognized who it belonged to, it sounded very little like his carefree friend.

Kenobi didn't turn around when he breathed deeply and said, "Just needed some fresh air. Politicians make things so... _stuffy_." A large, strong hand lay on his shoulder and quickly spun him around, and Obi-Wan found himself looking into the very angry face of Quinlan Vos. Despite the man's anger, the Sith softly smiled.

"Lying comes _so_ easily to you now, doesn't it?" Quinlan growled, and Obi-Wan calmly brushed the Jedi's hand away and took a step back.

"Careful, Jedi..." he warned. "I'm here as the diplomatic guest of a brand new ally of the Galactic Republic. You wouldn't want to be the one that gets between that, would you?" He shrugged. "Besides, I didn't lie to anyone."

Quinlan grabbed Kenobi's robes and pulled him close, his dark eyes narrowed in fury, and he growled when he looked into the expressionless face of his old friend. "You said you weren't Sith!"

A slow, sly smile came to Kenobi's lips. "I've made my statement and been judged by the Senate _fairly_. I doubt they'd approve of your methods, Quin." The smile on Obi-Wan's face slowly faded when Quinlan's hands tightened into his robes, and he quickly crossed his grip and pulled _hard_ , his collar tightening around his neck as the Jedi choked him. This time, the Kiffar was grinning.

"Not so tough without the Force, are you, _Sith Lord_." Obi-Wan reached up and clutched the Jedi's wrists, and Quinlan pulled tighter, expecting the Sith to attempt to pull him off or force him to relieve his strangling hold, but instead, those hands gently wrapped around the scars that his red lightsaber had left. Vos felt Obi-Wan tug at the Force, sending it through him, not to control or dominate, and not at the behest of the Dark Side. What Quinlan felt was _compassion_. Understanding. A vast, deep kinship in those golden eyes that seemed to say, _You are not alone_.

Quinlan released him as so quickly it was as if he had looked down to see he was holding burning coals in his hands, and he trembled, backing away and looking at the Sith in fear. Obi-Wan turned away and coughed into his sleeve, a hand in the air and a gentle push of the Force to get the Zeltron and the Kaminoan, now staring at them, to forget about what they had seen and leave, which they compliantly did. Quinlan wanted to leave as well, but at the same time, he _desperately_ wanted to stay, and gripped with indecision, Quinlan Vos stood and did nothing.

"You're so angry, Quinlan..." Obi-Wan said softly, holding up a hand when the Kiffar darted forward, grasping for words that would not come to him. "When did this happen?"

"Kamino." He shivered when he said the word, and it was like a damn breaking, and suddenly, Vos couldn't stop himself. "I touched the Dark Side, Obi-Wan! Grievous was going to kill Ahsoka and I heard your voice in my head, and I reached out and I _grabbed it_!" The Kiffar snarled, his hands balling into fists. "I tore Grievous apart, Obi-Wan. I have never been so powerful, and all I have wanted since was to reach out and do it again!"

Kenobi stood on his toes to look over Vos' shoulder at the closed balcony door, felt the Force for the other Jedi, but did not sense them attuned to Quinlan, or aware at all of the raging pull of the Dark Side mere steps away from them. He could feel his own tightly caged darkness thrash against its bindings, demanding to be set free, but he closed his eyes and commanded it to still. "Have the Jedi not sensed this?"

Quinlan scoffed in disgust. "Like they have _ever_ been able to sense the Dark Side." His face darkened as he shot the Sith a dangerous glare. " _You_ did this to me! You planted the idea in my mind, you wanted to fall together, and now I'm falling with you!"

"There has always been darkness within you, Quinlan. If you want to stop your fall, than you are speaking to the wrong man."

"That's the thing, I don't _want_ to stop." Quinlan grabbed the Sith again, but gently this time, his trembling hands on his shoulders and his brown eyes wide and afraid and _pleading_. "Help me, Obi-Wan. I have never felt such strength, I need to learn how to control it and harness it. The Jedi won't teach me, but you're _Sith_ , you can-"

Obi-Wan's hand shot out and covered the Jedi's mouth, and Quinlan looked at him in confusion. "I _understand_ , Quinlan. You are lost and confused, but I cannot help you, because I'm not what you think I am." Vos looked at him with anger and betrayal, but it quickly melted away when he felt the Sith's comforting presence in the Force, heard the harsh inflections on certain words, saw those gold eyes narrow and glow with a devious light. "The Dark Side is dangerous, as the Jedi say, and if you have begun down that road, you must seek to purge yourself of it."

The Sith Lord removed his hand from the Jedi's mouth, and he quietly gasped, "How?"

"Meditation and contemplation of the Force, and what it has in store for you." He shrugged. "You may wish to look for a place that you feel can bring you closer to the Living Force."

"And...do you know where I can find such a place?"

Kenobi shrugged. "I hear Mandalore is conducive to meditation. Peaceful worlds often are."

"I'll...consider it. Thank you..."

Obi-Wan smiled softly and laid a hand on his shoulder. "It was good to talk with you again, my friend. But I _really_ need to get back before I am missed." Kenobi turned away from the Jedi and didn't look back as he walked inside the warm, crowded room and was instantly set upon by drunk, fawning Senators, who immediately began commenting on his sweet it was that he reconnect with the Jedi, how good it must have been to be able to talk with them once again, and Obi-Wan smiled, politely responding that it was a great pleasure. His instincts had been correct, and he was right to be cautious here. No matter where he was, how alone he believed himself to be, the politics of Coruscant were ever watchful and kept a keen eye and ear open to the activities of not just him, but _everyone_. Within minutes, even this conversation would spread and warp into rumors.

Breathing deep, he closed his eyes and reached out with the Force, not the soft, easy pushing he had been employing since he arrived, but an insistent tug, and he directed it in the direction of the elderly Senator from Kamino, and Kenobi felt his pulse quicken when the Jedi attention in the room snapped first to him, than to the long necked politician, and they immediately moved to gather together, talking among themselves while keeping a cautious watch on the room. He was certain that the Jedi would figure out that he was actively attempting to deceive them, but it was necessary. They could learn more from what he _didn't_ do than from what he did, and misleading them when they expected to be misled could help him clear the way to making easier contact with his Master later on.

As if summoned by the thought of him, Chancellor Palpatine put his hand in the air and called to him, smiling brightly and waving him over, Satine standing close to him with an untouched drink in her hand. Like him, Satine didn't drink when she was working, but Palpatine held a near empty glass, and as Kenobi approached, he saw the Chancellor was slightly flushed. "Obi-Wan!" he cried, laying a hand on the fine black robes that covered the man's chest, as much in affection as for support. "I had been looking for you! The Duchess and I...we talked about you _so_ much!" His words were affected with a slight slur, and Kenobi gently reached out and brushed the Sith Lord's consciousness with the Force to find it hazy and unclear for just a moment before a sharp, jarring tug deep inside him made his breath catch. For just an instant, the Chancellor's kind, slightly unfocused eyes sharpened, and Obi-Wan heard his Master's voice deep within him say, _Pay attention_.

"I'm flattered that you'd discuss me when I'm not around, Chancellor, but I assure you, it's completely unnecessary. I'm fairly uninteresting."

"Oh, I disagree, my boy!" Palpatine said, lightly pushing Kenobi to stand beside the Duchess, and Obi-Wan looked around to find himself in the center of the attention of nearly fifty people. Sidious was holding court. "A Jedi comes from humble beginnings, and now you are _royalty_!"

Kenobi sucked in a sharp breath, the slight pulling of his Master making his message excessively clear: _Does my apprentice mean to rule?_ Obi-Wan brushed off the notion with an easy laugh. "Standing in the light of the sun does not make one a star, Chancellor."

Palpatine smiled. "He's a Jedi as well as a poet!" The politicians in attendance laughed. "You must admit that allying yourself with these new Mandalorians has made you powerful."

"I was powerful before my current association with the Duchess, Chancellor." He smiled slightly. "My involvement in Mandalore is purely done out of a dedication to peace and...as a favor to a friend."

"And what a friend!" he said jovially. "Already your Satine is winning the hearts of the Senators."

"She seems to have a knack for it, yes."

"Many have come to her just this evening with an interest in joining her peace!" Palpatine said this cheerfully, but there was a silent menace in his Force presence. _Do you mean to dismantle my war effort?_

"Many do long for it," he said softly. "This war has lasted a long while, but I fear that most are not ready for peace. Mand'alor Satine has offered peace to all those who wish it, and yet so many choose to remain in the war."

"The matter is not solved so simply."

Kenobi smiled. "Perhaps not, but I believe as this war continues, more and more will leave the Republic and the Confederacy and join the Mandalorian peace. As this war continues, Mandalore will only grow stronger."

Palpatine laughed. "You almost sound as though _you_ have joined with her, Negotiator!"

"I _am_ here, aren't I? I have pressed for peace in the past. She has simply found a better way."

"So..." the Chancellor drawled, the syllable long and slurred. "Does this mean you have changed allegiance? Do you no longer serve Count Dooku and his Separatists?" Again, the meaning was clear: _Do you place this woman above the Sith Initiative_?

Obi-Wan smirked. "Chancellor, I have _never_ served Dooku. I am no politician. I am just doing what I believe is best for the galaxy, and if we can somehow be united once again, I must support the one who can achieve it."

Palpatine slowly nodded, and Obi-Wan would feel his presence withdraw and leave him with a sense of satisfaction. If this was a test, it appears that he had passed it. Slowly, _drunkenly_ , the Chancellor laughed. "Why, Obi-Wan, it almost seems as if you love this remarkable woman!" The delegates around them began to excitedly mumble with thick tongues and slow minds addled with alcohol.

"I do confess to having a strong admiration of Mand'alor Satine."

"As do we all! Many tonight have already asked for her hand!"

Kenobi laughed, a sly smile sliding across his face as he looked at the woman by his side. "Oh, have they?"

Satine was unimpressed, placing her untouched glass on a tray a serving droid was carrying as it passed. "All men are attracted to power, Obi-Wan. You know this. Their species and their political affiliation means nothing when they think they have a way to easily seize vast amounts of influence."

"And she is _shrewd_. Powerful, intelligent women are so hard to come by!"

A devious smile made its way on to the Duchess' face. "Chancellor Palpatine, you don't have any plans to make me yours, do you?"

Palpatine laughed modestly and waved his hand in the air. "No, no, not at all. The Republic is nearly too much fr me, I do not believe I could handle more. I'll leave the Duchess to younger, more vital men, such as yourself, Master Kenobi." The Chancellor nudged the Sith Lord in the ribs. "We hear you are _terribly_ close to each other..."

"I don't pay attention to rumors, Chancellor." Again, the elderly man laughed.

"No, no, of course not."

Satine linked her arm with Obi-Wan's. "It's getting late. We should retire. I have a great deal of work to do when I return to Mandalore, and I should like to leave at first light." Kenobi nodded and looked at the Chancellor, who smiled and put his hands up.

"Of course, Duchess. Allow me to escort you to the apartments we have reserved for your use. They are near my own, and I should turn in as well." He bowed to the delegates, smiling softly. "A bit too much to drink for me. I used to hold it so much better when I was younger." The Senators laughed, watching as the Chancellor, the Duchess, and the Negotiator left the room together, quietly whispering to each other as they left.

* * *

500 Republica was the most desired building on Coruscant, it's lush, exquisite apartments fit to serve any royalty in the galaxy, though most served as the on-world homes of the most prestigious Senators in the Republic. That the politicians so coveted the wealth and influence that came with owning an apartment at the address was exactly why the Republic was falling. They strove for wealth instead of progress, decadence instead of effectiveness, and it bred a laziness in the influential that led to the current galactic state.

Not that Obi-Wan was complaining. The room had been reserved for visiting dignitaries of high esteem, which was exactly what the Duchess was, and Palpatine would not have her placed anywhere else as a statement to those that had been worried about her arrival. As soon as the Chancellor had left them, Kenobi walked around the room and used the Force to short out the security cameras, and immediately after, he and Satine had furiously made love, drunk on power driven from their complete victory over every obstacle they encountered. They were, in a word, _unstoppable_.

When his lover was soundly asleep, Kenobi pulled himself out of bed and slipped into his casually discarded trousers and sat cross-legged on the floor, eyes closed and breathing deeply as he slowly sunk into the Force. The training with Shaak Ti had paid off, even if the training wasn't complete, as he easily brushed the visions brought to him out of the way, ignoring them as he searched deeper went further, past the drunken Senators, past the billions of the insignificant life on the planet, past even the Jedi meditating in their Temple, and for a moment, he could feel them upon him, observing him in his meditations. He sunk deeper still until even the Jedi couldn't reach him, until there was nothing but the calm waters of the Force and the raging undercurrents of the Dark Side, and Obi-Wan inhaled deeply as he submerged himself within the tide. There, he was a vortex, bright and singular, controlling the ebb and the flow of the waters around him. He was all at once surrounded by all that lived and completely alone, save for one other, who slowly reached out to him and grabbed his consciousness with firm, possessive, familiar hands.

" _Master_."

His golden eyes shot open, but he could not see the ornate room he sat in, couldn't feel the warm presence of his sated lover, couldn't hear the soft hum of the ever-present traffic in the skies of Coruscant. Instead, he saw the infinite darkness of Sidious' Dark Side shrine deep underneath the Jedi Temple, and before him was the shadowed, shifting form of his Master. He reached out to grasp it, but his hand passed through, and he frowned. Was this a vision?

"Not a vision," Sidious said softly. "Not like you are used to."

Obi-Wan looked around again, his sharp gold eyes taking in every detail of his surroundings, but he found it...shifting, as if everything was underwater, as his less clear visions so often did. "This shrine is a nexus in the Dark Side. Could our consciousness be drawn to this place?"

"Perhaps," the Master mused. "But you and I are simply connected, my apprentice. _Deeply_." He shrugged. "And my penthouse is right above yours. Proximity allows for a stronger link between us, as I am certain you remember from your time as a Jedi." Obi-Wan said nothing. "That woman of yours is not what I was led by Tyranus to believe."

Their surroundings became hazy and unclear, the waters disturbed by a sudden rush through them, and the Master merely smiled. "What did he say." It wasn't a question, it was a demand, and a moment later, the Force itself screamed as agony shot through Kenobi. Biting his lip, he closed his eyes, bowed his head, and quietly said, "I apologize, Master..."

"You grow weary of Tyranus." Not a question, a statement.

"Yes."

"He had expressed his displeasure with you. He believes I am emboldening you needlessly."

"I do hope you punished him for his insolence, Master..."

Sidious grinned. "I did. As you would have. As you _did_ , I suspect."

"...yes." This time, the Force lit with the calm, smooth warmth of his Master's satisfaction, and while he accepted the praise, Obi-Wan recognized this as his Master simply attempting to light further conflict between the two apprentices. "Can the Jedi not sense us, Master?" he asked softly, and Sidious scoffed, his face filled with disgust at the idea.

"Can the Jedi sense the Dark Side, Darth Lumis? Can they feel what it is that infects their treasured Temple?"

"No, Master."

"And so they cannot sense us now. We are cloaked in the Dark Side. How else could I hide among them?" He watched as Lumis considered this and slowly nodded, bowing his head in respect to the Master. "Tyranus insisted that the Duchess was simply a front through which you exerted your will and your power, and you use her because she is pleasing to you." Sidious grinned as he felt the Dark Side begin to swirl around the human nexus. "He says that she is little more than a pleasure slave elevated far beyond her station, and were I you, Lumis, I would control your rage before you bring the Jedi down upon you."

Obi-Wan didn't know how angry he was until he could feel the heart in his physical form race, the Dark Side drawn to him as he meditated and his consciousness lay elsewhere. With a deep breath and a sharp pull on the Force, he called the Dark Side to him, coaxing it softly before swiftly containing and controlling it. "Satine is a powerful ally, my Master," he said when he had controlled his heart to beat at a slow, strong pace.

"I am inclined to agree," Sidious said. "She provides the political acumen that you lack. Together, you have achieved what I have achieved _alone_."

Obi-Wan winced. "I recognize your superiority, Master. I still have much to learn."

"You do, my apprentice. But you _are_ learning." He steepled his fingers. "Your Duchess is politically astute, impressively intelligent, charismatic and ruthless. If she had the Force, I might be so inclined to throw you and Tyranus away in favor of her."

"She is...a great asset, Master."

Sidious' face suddenly contorted in rage, and Obi-Wan could feel his ghostly hands upon his throat. "And you believe you can rule an Empire with her? Tell me, Lumis, did you assemble an Empire to show me the power you could amass?"

"N-no, Master, I-" The hands tightened around his neck, and he could feel his heart beat faster as he choked for air. Sidious stared at him as if he was bored, watching him as he struggled for breath, the Force thrashing around them as Obi-Wan pulled upon it to preserve his own life. Suddenly, he was released, and he fell to the ground, gasping loudly as his lungs continued to burn.

"I find your Duchess agreeable," Sidious finally said. "She is intelligent and cunning and Sith in her mentality. Even without her connection to you, such a powerful political power is worth protecting. I will honor my alliance with her. Her rule must be upheld. It will make the violent birth of the Empire easier. The less Confederate Worlds at the time of the execution of the plan, the less struggle we will have with the Outer Rim when we conquer it."

"...I can see that she remains of use to us, Master."

"I suggest that you do." Sidious crossed his arms and looked over his powerful apprentice. "Have her slowly begin to bring Separatist worlds into her protection."

"I will, Master..."

Sidious frowned. There was still unease in the man, still a disturbance within him. It was not fear, but it was disquiet. "You are troubled."

Obi-Wan was silent for a moment before he nodded slightly. "Yes."

Sidious smiled as he identified the cause of Lumis' distress. "She is useful to us, Lumis. We did not need this Mandalorian alliance, but that we have it is a gift from the Dark Side. We shall not waste this. If your concern is for her safety, you may be at ease."

"Until the Empire is born."

"Yes, until my Empire rises." He grinned when the Force trembled with worry, the human nexus causing it to shift and swirl. He could not lose this, not now. Not when the corruption of Anakin Skywalker was going so poorly. "And after, if you have another use for her." Sidious grinned when the apprentice's golden eyes looked up at him, hungry and lustful and brimming with power.

"She will give me children, Master. _Powerful_ ones that will all be raised in service to the Sith."

"You have said as much before, and yet you have produced _nothing_." Kenobi winced. "I am beginning to believe that one of you is incapable."

"We have been _busy_ with a war and an Empire! When am I supposed to find the time to dedicate to making a child!"

"You haven't seemed to have trouble with this in the past."

"It's far too infrequently! We must be... _missing_."

Sidious took a deep breath and touched the Dark Side, searching for answers and found one, faint and distant, and he grabbed hold of it. "My Master Plagueis strove to manipulate the Force to create life. I always found it foolish, but perhaps he was simply going about it wrong. He reached to compel the Force itself when he perhaps should have reached through a powerful Dark Side practitioner." He stroked his chin as he thought. "I will compel the Force to prepare her for you. When you return home, you will allow the Dark Side to consume you as you ravage her, and you will have your child."

"You can do such a thing?" Kenobi gasped, and the Master simply looked at him as if he was bored.

"It's a simple thing." He pointed at the apprentice, his face stern. "I trust that you will continue to make the woman produce Sith Lords for you, but your first child, the one you will create for me _tomorrow_ will be _mine_ to train." He smiled slyly when he felt Lumis' resolve waver for a moment before it settled into fierce resolve. "Consider this your gift to me for allowing you to keep this woman."

"Gratefully so, my Master." It was a hard deal, but within the Force, Obi-Wan saw the future, and knew this was the right path to tread. If nothing else, it gave him and Satine extra time to plan in safety, and when the time was right, Darth Sidious would fall. It was, after all, the way of the Lords of the Sith.


	60. Counterpoint

The Jedi had been dispatched immediately following the departure of Satine and her Sith Lord. It had not been the unqualified disaster they had expected, and while plans by some of the Masters to secretly arrest Kenobi were thwarted by an unexpectedly early flight from the city, Qui-Gon Jinn assured the Masters that Kenobi's visit, for him, had been extremely informative. Sith ambition was at work in the Senate, in the Confederacy, and now in Mandalore as well. With all the galaxy's major governments influenced by the Sith, the ultimate plan was becoming clear, a fact that Qui-Gon privately talked to Yoda about so the Grandmaster may take the appropriate steps. After all, Master Jinn was seen as too personally involved, too controversial to be listened to, but Yoda heeded the old Master and began to work very closely with him and Skywalker to bring the Sith to heel.

And Anakin was becoming _strong_. Watching the Sith Lord at work in the senate had renewed his dedication to everything he held dear when he had seen with his own eyes that Obi-Wan had the very real ability to take it all away from him. And Anakin Skywalker would _not_ lose. He recognized that as a Jedi, he was a bit out of step with the Council, and while most called him defiant and difficult, Qui-Gon had always called their unusual approach... _forward thinking_. The Council at large didn't listen to Anakin, but they didn't need to. The Council was falling apart, and the most effective members were proving to be Luminara, Qui-Gon, Quinlan and Yoda, and _they_ valued Anakin's opinion, respected the power he had, and stood behind him in the confrontation with the Sith that they all knew was coming.

Despite his knighthood, Anakin approached learning with the eager readiness of a new Padawan, and while he was quick to relentlessly pester Qui-Gon about his knowledge of the Living Force, it was Yoda he went to for the bulk of his training. Yoda opened up his mind to the Force, showed him things he never knew to be possible, taught him what it meant to be a vergence in the Force and how to harness that power. The Force was light and gentle and loving, and it guided his actions, drove him to better himself, showed him that there was another way and a better way to deal with the problems they were facing. Anakin had _always_ liked lightsaber combat and yearned to fight, but with Yoda, he felt that drive diminished. Yoda never used a lightsaber. With the Force as his ally, he never needed to.

While Yoda oversaw his Force training, Qui-Gon helped Skywalker manage his personal struggles, of which there were many. Not being raised within the Temple, Anakin grew attached gladly and often to nearly everyone. He was compassionate, terribly so, which led him to connect deeply with those he had spent even a little bit of extended time with, and this made him frightfully protective. It wasn't a _bad_ trait, but it was a difficult thing for a Jedi Knight, and while not impossible to manage, his emotions often clouded his vision and prevented him from fully connecting to the Force that surrounded him as a living nexus. Qui-Gon was of the opinion that emotions were not necessarily bad for the young man to be feeling. They were expected, given his late start in the Order, and Qui-Gon had always known that one day, he'd need to train Anakin not to prevent these very human emotions, but in learning how to put them in their place and deal with them appropriately when the time allowed it.

He had recovered from the tragic death of his mother. It was a long, arduous process, but Anakin had managed to put it away, and while he still often sat and thought of her and was gripped with sadness, it was not laced with the anger and the bitterness that it had been. Visits to his brother Owen had helped, and Qui-Gon was slowly becoming of the opinion that Anakin's attachments were what was saving him. He felt deeply, passionately, and he surrounded himself with people he loved and trusted, and each and every one of them relieved the pain of loss. He grieved slowly, and when he did, he was never alone, having an understanding mentor in the form of Qui-Gon Jinn, a Jedi who never faulted him for his emotions. The embrace of his emotions wasn't the Jedi way, but Qui-Gon never followed the Jedi way in the manner the Council approved of, and that was just fine for Anakin. He always had a Jedi to fall back on, a friend to talk to, a father figure to understand, and with support in the form of the Jedi family, Skywalker always had a way to manage his emotions and deal with them in a way that was both healthy and human.

And then there was Padmé...

Manipulated by the Sith for reasons unknown to everyone, the young senator was an emotional mess, but after her encounter with Obi-Wan upon the _Tranquility_ , things began to change. Before, she was hopelessly drawn to her handsome, former Jedi protector, allured to his calm demeanor, his smooth words, his desire for peace, reawakening her old, childhood crush and igniting it into a lustful blaze. Anakin had found himself haplessly, and _happily_ , on the end of the culmination of her frantic desires, but he understood what it was. It was simply... _physical_. Raw and carnal passion born from Sith manipulation and raging hormones. And then Kenobi rescued Nute Gunray from right under Padmé's nose, and that desire turned to anger.

And she had been _furious_ , her strong emotions overriding even the attraction she had for the Sith Lord. She admitted she still found the _idea_ of him terribly appealing, and despite her rage, she was drawn to him, but she anger made her stubborn, and it made her recognize what this truly was. She was smitten, drawn to a man that was both charming and dangerous, and she had been drawn in, blind to all else until he had directly hindered her own progress, and Padmé was left to be angry and resolve herself away from him. She, after all, had Anakin. The differences between them could not be more stark. Obi-Wan was charming, smooth, frightfully attractive, but he was also cruel and manipulative, a Lord of the Sith, despite what the Senate believed. Anakin, on the other hand, was kind and sweet, awkward and boyishly handsome. He may have been impulsive, but he was also loyal and dedicated and much more intelligent than he let on, and with her anger with Obi-Wan solidified, she opened herself to Skywalker.

It was slow at first, tenuous and uncertain, and very slowly, they began to open up to each other, and despite being bound by institutions that demanded they not be together, Padmé found herself becoming infatuated with the Jedi that was clearly in love with her. It was a careful courtship, but the slow, easy friendship grew into a gentle intimacy that stood in stark contrast to the very fast, all-consuming lust she had for Obi-Wan, and the Sith's absence made it easier for her to return Anakin's gentle feelings.

Than Obi-Wan had returned to Coruscant, and Anakin felt he might lose her.

The evening that the _Coronet_ had returned to Mandalore, Anakin excused himself from the Temple to go see Padmé, with specific instructions from Qui-Gon to learn exactly what the Senate had discussed when the Jedi were frantically scrambling back at the Temple as they prepared to dispatch to the war as soon as possible. When the door slid open, Padmé had sighed in relief and quickly threw herself into Anakin's gentle arms, the Jedi flushing slightly as he pulled her into her apartment and sealing the door behind them.

"Are you alright?" Anakin asked, threading her long brown hair through his fingers. "I sensed a great deal of distress from you yesterday."

"It wasn't just me, it's everyone," Padmé said softly.

"Are they still worried?"

Padmé shook her head. "The Duchess did a good job stating her case. Nobody here is discussing peace options, but _everyone_ agrees that the Republic will benefit from this Mandalorian alliance." She laughed harshly. "Several systems just today have declared their intentions to leave the Republic and join the Mandalorian Empire."

"That's not good..."

She sighed wearily and sat on the edge of her bed, Anakin dragging her desk chair over and sitting backwards upon it, arms draped over the back as he looked into the Senator's big, brown eyes. "No, it isn't. The Mandalorians may be for peace, but they are further fracturing the Republic at a time where we need to be united. The war _cannot_ end unless we are!"

Anakin put his hands up before him. "I know, Padmé. You know I agree with you." He dragged his finger over the back of the chair. "Have you managed to convince anyone that Obi-Wan is Sith?"

She laughed at that bitterly. "I will say this about Obi-Wan Kenobi. He is an inspired talker. If he wasn't in service to the Force, he'd make an excellent politician."

"He isn't in service to the Force, he is _Sith_." Padmé glared at him pointedly, and Anakin looked away, biting his lip and sheepish. "S-sorry..."

"They all believe he's a poor, misunderstood, lost brother of the Jedi. He has everyone fooled, and even if I _could_ convince them otherwise, it wouldn't matter. Nobody believe the Sith are a threat." Anakin sputtered in outrage, but Padmé held up a hand to silence him. " _I know_ , Anakin. I know he's what you say he is. I've felt his influence, you know that."

"Y-yes..." the Jedi said, suddenly extremely uncomfortable. It was always a difficult thing for them to discuss, but Qui-Gon had said it was necessary. An open discussion would allow him to be compassionate and avoid any sort of misunderstandings, and doing so helped him release unease into the Force. After all, he wasn't supposed to have any of this. Careful and measured prudence must be taken.

"Obi-Wan has them convinced that the Sith are insignificant because there's only two of them. I _tried_ to tell them that a single person that is particularly powerful, or talented, or ambitious can change the course of the galaxy, but they wouldn't listen. The Chancellor tried to help, but..." she shrugged, a weary smile on her face. "He's just...too eager to try and please everyone."

"At least he's trying."

She nodded, covering her mouth with the back of her hand as she yawned. "And the Jedi? They at least understand the threat. Do they have a plan?"

"We're all being sent back to the war. I'm leaving for the Sullust system tomorrow morning, and I think they're sending Council members to the Mandalore system to try and cut Kenobi off as he's leaving for Separatist space. A lot of Jedi are _very_ angry that he wasn't arrested as soon as the Senate session was over."

" _I'm_ very angry about that."

Anakin smiled slightly. "I understood the Duchess' point, but Obi-Wan _is_ a war criminal, far more than we could ever be accused of being. I saw what he did to Depa Billaba. I saw ghost towns on Ryloth. I've felt the full fury of the anger inside him, I've seen the darkness that had has warped his soul."

"I know you have, Anakin..." She sighed heavily. "I'm not disagreeing with you. But what are the Jedi going to do about it? There's no way your Masters are going to be able to catch him as he's leaving Mandalore."

"You're right, they won't, he's too smart to allow himself to be captured. He's banking on the Jedi behaving in a certain way in order to manipulate us, which is what he did here yesterday. He counted on the Jedi obeying the Republic and honoring the promise that was made to him, but if we acted differently..."

"We have to behave honorably, Anakin..."

"I know, I know," he said quickly, waving her off. "But if we defied his expectations, he'd be confined in a cell deep inside the Jedi Temple right now, and we'd all feel safer." Anakin took a deep breath as he observed Padmé, the young woman thinking carefully for a moment before slowly nodding her agreement. "So Master Qui-Gon and Master Yoda came up with a plan that should do exactly that."

Padmé grinned widely. "I knew you would come up with something. Will it work?"

"The way things look now, it should, but things are constantly changing in this war, and so must we. It's a plan, but it's a flexible one."

"So," she drawled, "is this one of those plans that you hide from everyone?"

Anakin rolled his eyes. " _Please_. It was Qui-Gon that thought of this. Does he _ever_ demand secrecy?"

The Senator smiled softly. "Not usually."

"The plan is..." Skywalker said, holding up his hands before him. "We don't do anything."

"...nothing?"

"Nothing."

Padmé's expressive brown eyes narrowed in anger. "Doing nothing _isn't_ a plan, Anakin!"

The Jedi grinned. "Except when it is. If what we believe is correct, there are _three_ Sith Lords, Dooku, Obi-Wan, and their invisible Master, and they are all involved in the three major powers in the galaxy right now."

"I know you all say there's a Sith Lord in the Senate, Anakin, but-"

"There is, Padmé. Just because we can't feel it, doesn't mean it isn't there. We learned that from Obi-Wan. Unless he's sufficiently stressed, we can't feel him in the Force at all." Anakin thought she'd argue, and for a moment, it looked like she would, but than she bit her lip and nodded for him to continue. "Obi-Wan is, by far, the most actively dangerous of the three. The Master is, of course, a bigger threat, but Master Yoda doesn't think the Jedi will ever see him, and if we do, it will be too late to stop his plans, whatever they might be. So to get to him, we need to go through his students."

"You're going to make Obi-Wan do it?" she asked, incredulous. " _How_. I know what it's like to get between a Jedi and his Master, I doubt that the Sith are any different."

"But they are, because they're entire culture isn't based on supporting each other like the Jedi, it's based on the desire and will to successfully execute the Master that trained them." Padmé stared at him aghast for a moment, than gasped in understanding. "As Master Qui-Gon says, Obi-Wan may be the most dangerous of them, but he's is also the only one that has shown he can be reasoned with, and he just recently came into quite a bit of galactic power."

Padmé nodded in agreement. "It's very clear that he's involved with Satine."

"Deeper than you'd think, if Master Vos and Master Qui-Gon are to be believed, and that kind of power leads to ambition for the Sith that may be _very_ dangerous for the Master. Master Yoda says Obi-Wan is a Force nexus, so he's absolutely going to be stronger, but if he manages to kill this Sith Master isn't going to matter. The fight between them will draw so heavily on the Dark Side, cause _such_ a disturbance in the Force that the Jedi will _have_ to feel it. We should be able to find them, and than Qui-Gon, Yoda and I will be there to deal with the one who lives, which _should_ be made easier by the fight they just endured."

At this, Padmé frowned. "Why do you have to go, Anakin? It's going to be dangerous, isn't it? More dangerous than anything you have ever done."

"Yes." He sighed, standing up from the chair and coming to sit beside her on the bed, taking her small hands in his. "Master Yoda says that I'm destined to fight Obi-Wan. He believes Kenobi will be able to slay his Master, and it will come down to a fight between him and me since we're both vergences in the Force. " Anakin looked away from her sheepishly. "I'm not sure I believe I am, but that's what they say. So!" He brought one of her hands to his lips. "Qui-Gon wants the Jedi to come out in support of Obi-Wan and his rule of Mandalore. He thinks it might stir tensions between Obi-Wan and his Master and if that happens, it's only a matter of time before Obi-Wan kills the other Sith. Meanwhile, I'll be training with Qui-Gon and Yoda to make myself ready to face him. Or the Master, if Obi-Wan is killed."

Padmé thought about this in silence for a long while, her hands tightening around Anakin's. "This plan is completely insane," she finally said, but she was smiling. "It might work."

"Yeah, it might." He brushed a stray strand of brown hair behind her ear, the woman smiling gently as he caressed her cheek. "I know you have... _passions_ for Obi-Wan. Was seeing him alright?"

She looked away from him as she laughed, and Skywalker couldn't help himself from smiling. Despite the serious nature of the subject, her laugh was infectious, her care and delight in the Force not unnoticed. "I'm alright. Mind you, I find him _terribly_ attractive..."

"Oh, that's wonderful."

"But _you_ have mentioned off-hand how beautiful you find some of your Jedi friends..." Anakin blushed fiercely.

"T-that's not the same!"

She smiled, planting her small hands on his thighs and leaning up to plant a chaste, innocent kiss on his lips, the Jedi blushing furiously as she did, as he _always_ did when they touched. "What I find physically appealing shouldn't matter because I chose _you_ , Anakin..."

A breathless whimper was torn from the Jedi and he quickly embraced her, an easy, gentle passion building in them and slowly overtaking the two lovers. Even in their most passionate, they were careful, cautious, like they weren't supposed to have the slow, gentle intimacy they shared, which they supposed they weren't. But it was theirs, and for the life of him, Anakin wasn't letting go.

* * *

Obi-Wan had told Satine everything on the ship as they left Coruscant for Mustafar, about his conversation with his Master, about how pleased the reigning Sith Lord had been by the proceedings, how he agreed that the Mandalorian state had to be protected as insurance for the future. But most of all, how the Sith had essentially _gifted_ her to Obi-Wan in exchange for the rights to their first child, and how the Master would aid in the infant's creation by...Satine wasn't exactly sure _how_ , but Obi-Wan had assured her that the Sith could manipulate the body to do as he commanded, and apparently, her body _had_ been manipulated.

It served two purposes. First, it would give her and her lover the child they had wanted, not just born from them, but created by the Dark Side itself, a condition that the Sith Lord had demanded, and they both knew that it was these demands that were keeping Satine not just alive, but under Sidious' protection. However, more importantly, this put a time limit on Obi-Wan's plans to murder his Master. They had no desire to surrender this powerful child, and not least because it belonged to _them_. This was the union of Sith and Mandalorian, the first of a new breed of rulers, and it would begin a legacy that would outlast the long history of the Republic.

When they reached Mustafar, they quickly sequestered themselves behind the locked doors of Obi-Wan's large, ornate bedchamber and wasted no time in setting about their duty. Satine watched in rapt interest as Darth Lumis knelt before her, eyes closed and breathing deep and calm as he reached deep within the Dark Side, the contained beast pacing restlessly within him, and he gently stroked it, coaxed it to come closer, and with a shuddering gasp, he surrendered himself to its power, the darkness instantly rushing through him and clutching him in its cold, wrathful grasp.

The claiming had been rough, brutal to the point of dark bruises on pale skin and the possessive burning of the full fury of the Force on every brush of his body against hers. And still, Satine was unafraid as she looked into those golden eye rimmed in a jagged blood red, so unlike what she was used to, but still so familiar. In them, she saw the Force itself, raw and dangerous and powerful beyond her imagination, all fury and passion and hatred and lust, and she loved _every_ moment of it, worshiped the feel of it as it rushed through her and ravaged her body. It was a difficult thing to understand, the way the Dark Side worked, they way it gripped the man she loved, the way that it not only came when called but shared a body with the Sith Lord, but as she lay underneath him, she saw it burning within him, seizing control of his movements and his actions until there was little left of Obi-Wan within the possessive, lustful fury of the gold and red eyes.

There was pain, yes, and not a little of it as the Dark Side lay claim to what belonged to it, and while others may have shrank back from the beast that overtook one that they loved, Satine faced it head on, looked unafraid deep within it, and embraced it, _loved_ it just as she loved the man the housed it. The Force was power, furious and vengeful and unending, and while she knew that she should turn away from it and never return, Satine was stubborn and dedicated. This thing was a part of Darth Lumis as much as his heart and lungs, and she _wanted_ it. With acceptance and submission to the flames that consumed her came pleasure, not covering the pain, but moving in tandem beside it as the Dark Side took full possession of her, pleased by her willingness to serve it in the way it wished.

It was a long while before it was over, and after having been lulled into thinking it was _several_ times, only to find herself roughly taken once again, Satine found it best to simply keep herself as close as possible so the beast didn't feel the need to exert its hard-handed domination over what was already his. She only knew her Obi-Wan had returned to her when the possessive, tight grasp on her hips relaxed and a gentle hand lay on her stomach, pulling her close, and the fine hairs of his beard brushed the back of her neck as he kissed it, sated and pleased and far less drained than she was. They were silent in their contentment, which made the ping of the comlink seem all the louder. With a tired groan, Obi-Wan extended his hand and called the device to him, answering it with a tired drawl of, "What is it..."

"Kenobi." The voice was husky, a low, dangerous timbre, and completely distinctive. _Ventress_. "Where have you been? I have been trying to contact you for days!"

The Dark Side growled its displeasure at the tone the woman used, but otherwise did nothing else, and Obi-Wan couldn't help but smirk. Even the Dark Side could overindulge. "Do I need to remind you that I don't answer to you, Asajj?"

"I _don't_ need a reminder!" Kenobi frowned. Ventress was angry, so much more than she had ever been, which was saying something, since wrath consumed the Nightsister more often than not. And with her rage came _power_. Ventress had become alarmingly powerful within the past few weeks, her embarrassing loss to Skywalker on Kamino driving her to strive deeper into the Dark Side for power. It was working, but it was also consuming her, and nobody around her would argue with the results she was producing. One week of solid victories and six dead Jedi Knights had landed her squarely in Dooku's good graces, but it had also attracted the attention of the Jedi Order. She was a threat before. Now, she was a target.

"I think you might."

"I didn't call for a lecture!"

"Then why _did_ you call?" Obi-Wan snapped, his patience gone, and he could almost feel Ventress recoil.

"...I'm flying to fight on Sullust."

Obi-Wan's eyes narrowed. "You bothered me to tell me that?"

"...no." She took a deep breath that could be heard over the soft muffling of the comlink. "I wanted to train with you."

"Dooku made it very clear that you are his to train."

Ventress scoffed. "Since when have you _ever_ listened to Dooku!"

"I still don't, but our Master wants peace between us. I think." He paused, dragging Satine closer to him and gently whispering apologies in the sleepy woman's ear. "Regardless, Dooku and I have come to an understanding, and it has suddenly become more beneficial to me to make nice with him."

He could _feel_ Ventress roll her eyes. "You two are _insufferable_."

"We are Lords, we can do as we like."

"You are dramatic children! One moment, you hate each other, and the next, you need each other." Obi-Wan and Satine both attempted to stifle laughter at that. "...Kenobi, is someone else there?"

"Can Dooku and I hate each other _because_ we need each other? I find that is often the case, and that is especially true of the Sith."

"Really, Kenobi, who's there? If this private call has become a _public_ conversation, I-"

"Asajj, honestly..." Obi-Wan sighed. "I never complained when you flirted with the Dark Side, but you are allowing it to _own_ you."

"But it has made me _strong_!" she insisted, her voice a low, dangerous growl, and Obi-Wan just scoffed, dismissing the notion entirely.

"You think winning a few battles and killing a few Jedi makes you strong, Asajj? There is strength in the Dark Side, yes, more than even you will ever be able to understand, but all that power is useless if you allow it to burn you to nothing. You've reached too far, too quickly, Ventress."

"That's why I want you to train me!" the Nightsister pleaded. "Kenobi, Lord Lumis, _please_! I'm so strong now, but you can make me stronger!"

Obi-Wan groaned and rolled on to his back, Satine settling her head on his chest as he rested the hand holding the comlink on the pillow beside him. "What do you think, Satine?"

Ventress gasped loudly. "Is _that_ who you're with?" It was followed by an audible sneer. "So help me, Kenobi, if you two are-"

"If we were, believe me, you'd know." He grinned when the Nightsister retched. "Ventress, I respect your desire to deepen your studies, but I...don't think it's a good idea. You're already stepping into territory you have no business in." Obi-Wan could feel Ventress become angry again, but it did not affect him. There was a pulling in the Force, something deep and persistent that seemed to warn him, not against Ventress, but against making her stronger.

"And what makes you so special that you get to decide what territory I belong in!"

"Asajj. I am a _Sith Lord_. I don't just reign over the Dark Side, I _am_ the Dark Side."

"You are _afraid_ ," she sneered, contempt dripping off her voice. "You fear how strong I will become!"

"You have _never_ been a threat to me, Ventress, but it's cute that you think so." She sputtered in rage, and before she could say another word, Obi-Wan closed his eyes, focusing on her voice, her anger, the thin, constant connection that they shared, and he grabbed hold and pulled hard, and the angry growls changed quickly to a gasp of pain. "Feel that, Asajj?" Obi-Wan asked quietly, picturing her in his mind and feeling her anger flee in the presence of overwhelming fear. "I am a Lord of the Sith, and you may be trained in the Dark Side, but you can never match up against one of my kind."

"I-If you trained me-"

"You aren't Sith, Ventress!" he snapped, his fragile patience giving way to temper. "You are powerful, far more powerful than I thought you would have become, and despite all your strength, you have barely begun to scratch the surface of the Dark Side, and it is already consuming you!" Kenobi took a deep, calming breath. "I can help you reach the next step in your training with Dooku, but I can't show you the ways of the Dark Side. I'm an apprentice, and I cannot take an apprentice of my own without drawing the ire of my Master. It would put us both in grave danger."

"But Dooku-"

"And Dooku is walking a _very_ dangerous line," Kenobi said softly, and he could feel Ventress slowly shift away from outrage as she began to listen. "I don't know if Dooku plans on training you as Sith, Asajj, but our Master has taken notice of his ambitions. No Sith Lord stays satisfied being a mere apprentice, and if Dooku made the push to kill my Master with you at his side, I would be forced to stand against both of you, and mark my word, my friend, I will not lose."

Ventress was quiet for a long while before she finally said, "Do you think that would happen?"

"No. I think my Master would find a way to bring Dooku back into subservience. Despite his harsh methods, you mean something to him, Asajj. What that is, I don't know, but being important to a Sith Apprentice is a _very_ dangerous place to be, and now, you are overreaching."

"...I'll be careful," Ventress said slowly, and Obi-Wan could feel an ache in his chest suddenly lessen. He didn't realize how tense he was. "Thank you, Obi-Wan."

"Look, Asajj, I..." Kenobi hissed in frustration, biting his tongue as he thought. "I need to stand by the Sith, and as long as you are an asset to us, I suppose I could find a way to help you hone your skills."

Obi-Wan heard her breathe a sigh of relief, but she didn't express her ease or her feelings verbally. Instead, she quickly snapped, "It's not like I _need_ your help, Kenobi. I just prefer Mustafar to Serenno."

Kenobi smiled softly. "Goodnight, Ventress. Happy hunting." The com cut, and he unceremoniously tossed the device back to th ground, curled up with Satine in his arms, and the two fell quickly asleep.


	61. The First Loss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thanksgiving to all my American readers! I'm thankful for all of you! Your feedback and your enjoyment of this thing not only helps my writing, but keeps me doing it. You, my lovelies, are the greatest. Thank you.

"You did _what_?!"

Dooku sat at his large desk, his elbows on the hard surface, his chin resting on his folded hands, and looking more morose than Obi-Wan had ever seen him. Kenobi had been leading a battle on Malastare when the Force _screamed_ , the Dark Side as well as the light, and it had brought the Sith Lord to his knees in agony. For a moment, he had thought he had somehow been shot. Than he _was_ shot, a plasma round tearing through his side and leaving him bleeding profusely in the dirt, the pain inflicted on his body and his mind wrecking his focus and forcing him to give into his rage. With the Dark Side fueling him, he cut a bloody trail through the army of Dug soldiers that opposed him, setting the three rancors upon them and commanding Cody to finish up. The Force was more than disturbed, it was...he didn't know what. The blood loss was making him hazy as well as powerful.

Kenobi had escaped to the _Umbra_ , hand tightly gripping his bleeding wound as he punched coordinates into the navicomputer, leaning back in his seat as the ship flashed into hyperspace, and he reached into the Force. He tried to reach out for his Master, for Satine, but the waters were so stormy, so murky that even Kenobi could see very little. He'd be on Mandalore soon enough. All he needed to do was heal himself enough to keep himself alive until he got there, which was easy enough. Unconsciousness in the frantic, clawing arms of the Force made the trip go quickly, and when he came to, he frowned deeply when the planet in the viewport was lush, temperate Serenno, not Mandalore. He checked the coordinates he punched in earlier, only to find that he had unknowingly directed the ship toward Count Dooku's home, not Satine's. Groaning loudly, he put a bloody hand on the accelerator and headed toward the planet. The Force had clearly brought him here. It would be unwise not to heed it.

Which brought him to now, his hand upon the wound in his side and pacing back and forth before Dooku's desk. The wound _had_ healed on the ship, but it had since reopened when a rush of power and tension gripped him. Blood was dripping freely on to Dooku's fine rugs and leaving a perfect red trail of the path that Kenobi was cutting back and forth before the large window. With a growl, Obi-Wan slammed his hands upon the desk, the noise making Dooku jump and blood from Kenobi's hand splattering across the Count's fine silk shirt.

"Tell me again, Dooku, because I must not have been listening."

"You were," the Count said, his usually grand, imperious voice a dull, flat monotone. "Asajj Ventress is dead."

"That isn't possible, she's too strong to just..." Kenobi's voice trailed off when Dooku looked at him with his dark brown eyes, and they were filled with...what? It wasn't regret, but the Count looked _lost_.

"As I said, our Master demanded it." He laughed, but it was hollow. "He believed I was training an apprentice to overthrow him. He said Ventress had become _too_ powerful."

"And you just _killed her_?!"

"I pulled her support and ordered the dreadnaught she was on destroyed, yes. The droids confirmed that no life forms were detected after the explosion."

"Droids make mistakes!" Obi-Wan said quickly, a nervous, frantic laugh torn from his chest, and the jerking, random contractions of his stomach further tore the fragile new skin on his side, and blood dripped faster out of him. "She could have escaped, she could have left the area before-"

Dooku rolled his eyes in annoyance, and the other Sith ceased talking. "Come now, Lumis, the Force brought you to your knees over this, as is expected, given how close you two were. Now _sit down_ before you bleed to death!"

Suddenly lightheaded, Obi-Wan did as he was told, slowly lowering himself into the chair opposite Dooku. Strangely, he wasn't angry with Dooku, didn't blame him for what he was ordered to do. Were their roles reversed, Obi-Wan was certain he would have done the same thing. This was why he had taken special care to make Satine important to Darth Sidious. "This can't be happening..." Kenobi muttered, swaying in the seat and his blood-slicked hand dropping from the bleeding injury. "Why would the Force care about Asajj Ventress, this doesn't make sense..."

"The Force cares because _you_ care, Kenobi," Dooku said, his voice straining with effort as he rose from his seat and came around the desk. He grabbed Obi-Wan's arm and pulled the dazed man out of his seat and led him over to the couch, biting his lip as he looked upon it, than shook his head and brought the younger Sith to the long, elaborate dining table instead, using the Force to push the individually carved chairs to the side. "A Lord of the Sith brought to his knees because a _nobody_ is dead. It's shameful. Take off your clothes, your injury needs to be treated."

Kenobi's shaking hands struggled to undo the clasp on his belt, which Dooku silently helped with when he saw the younger Sith was completely incapable. Obi-Wan managed to shrug his robes off his shoulders and pull his tunic over his head after that, and waved the Count off when he tried to help him up on to the table, gritting his teeth as he hoisted himself up on the smoothly polished wood and laid back and closed his eyes, weariness overcoming him. He was immediately jolted out of his restful state, golden eyes flying open when Dooku roughly jabbed the exposed muscle of the jagged, bleeding injury, his teeth clenched and hissing as he made to sit up in protest, but the Count's firm hand held him down.

"Don't sleep," Dooku calmly commanded. "I don't know if you'd wake up again."

"Sounds ideal for you." Dooku scoffed, looking away from Kenobi to watch a medical droid walk stiffly toward the table. "Why do you even care?"

"I don't," the Count said, his voice cold, but distant, as if he was thinking of something else. "But our Master wants you alive. And who am I to defy him..." For the briefest of moments, Dooku felt a terrible wrath within Obi-Wan, saw the rage and fury of the deepest reaches of the Dark Side brought on by pain and grief. Dooku had his own personal conflicts with young Kenobi, but he also recognized that he was powerful, and that power was growing greater with each passing day. He was an asset, even if he was a dangerous, unpredictable one to him, but to his friends...

Just before Dooku could give voice to his thoughts, Kenobi softly whispered, "You're upset too. About Ventress, it's not just me..."

"She was important to me," Dooku said slowly, watching the droid begin to work on the bleeding wound instead of looking at the other Sith's expressive golden eyes.

"As a tool," Kenobi sneered, and the Count shook his head.

"As an apprentice." Obi-Wan was silent for a long while, and Dooku held his breath as he watched the young Sith as he winced under the treatment he was receiving. The medical droid reached out toward Kenobi's neck with a needle, but the Count quickly caught it and shook his head. "Do not dull his senses," he growled in warning, and the droid's fixed face stared back at him.

"Sir, the pain will be extraordinary."

"That's what we want." Dooku paid the droid no further attention and ignored its worried mumbling, instead looking at Kenobi, pale and shaking, as the faintest smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"Thank you..." he whispered, closing his eyes and breathing deep as the droid thrust a long, thick needle into the open wound, pain searing through him with such intensity that it brought the Dark Side to him in a sudden blaze of hatred and rage, and the stormy, unclear haze of the Force lifted, driven into focus when the Sith seized his loathing and held it close. A sudden rush of air filled his lungs, and Kenobi laughed as his senses sharpened, bringing him to full alertness. "Why," he began through clenched teeth, "would you tell me that Ventress was an _apprentice_. Are you trying to make me angry? Are you _trying_ to make Sidious kill you as well?"

"Because I told you that I was responsible for Asajj Ventress' death, and I'm _still alive_ ," the Count said firmly.

"Our Master wants you alive. He was... _very_ adamant about that the last time we met."

"Three months ago, you wouldn't have hesitated to kill me if I told you such, and Lord Sidious' wishes wouldn't have been able to save me. You would have endured whatever consequence he rained upon you with _great_ satisfaction if it meant the death of the one who murdered your friend." Dooku looked at the Sith pointedly, a knowing smirk on his patrician features. " _Something_ has changed in you."

"...maybe so." Kenobi frowned. "You and I both _knew_ Asajj wasn't cut out for the life of a Sith Lord! Why would you train her like that!"

"How else was I supposed to kill Darth Sidious?" Those golden eyes flashed in anger, and Dooku gave a long suffering sigh. "Oh, stop it, Lumis, you have just made an empire out of a collection of pacifists. You cannot tell me that killing our Master hasn't crossed your mind, or you are no Sith at all."

With a pained hiss, Obi-Wan sat up, much to the droid's protests. "It has..." he said slowly, measuring Dooku, but the Count was keeping his emotions tightly guarded. "But we have come to an arrangement. Our Master will protect my Empire in exchange for my first child."

"And you have _agreed_ to this?" Dooku asked loudly, surprise on his face when the other Sith simply shrugged.

"It's a fair trade." The Count looked Kenobi over very carefully, feeling him through the Force, once so clouded and disturbed, but now sharp and clear with focus and rage. His friend Ventress was dead. A true Sith would not simply accept this. A true Sith wouldn't have accepted this deal, and a true Sith wouldn't have turned to his Master for protection, nor would a Master have offered it. Obi-Wan was _lying_.

"You cannot possibly mean to keep this from your Duchess," he tried carefully, and Kenobi shook his head and laughed.

"She knows all about it."

"And you mean to tell me that Satine is fine with giving up her child? I think you gravely underestimate her." Kenobi's eyes narrowed dangerously, and Dooku put his hands up, backing away from the topic. "I intended to use Ventress to help me kill Sidious. She was considerably powerful, and we could have done it, but _you_ were always an obstacle." He frowned, observing Kenobi observing him, and found not rage, but interest. "Ventress would kill you. You wouldn't expect it from her, and without you, our Master could not stand against the two of us."

"And yet, you still killed her." It wasn't an accusation. Instead, Obi-Wan shifted uncomfortably, not just because of the droid tending his wound, but because of a sudden surging of the Force, one that Dooku felt, but could not interpret the way Obi-Wan could.

"I was not ready. _She_ was not ready. I did not expect our Master to take notice of her so quickly. It was...unfortunate, but I had no choice. My loyalty was tested, and it was a test I could not fail."

Slowly, Obi-Wan nodded. "My plan isn't so well thought out as yours." When Dooku didn't say anything, Obi-Wan took a deep breath, pausing for a moment to collect his thoughts. "I was just going to kill him. You never figured into the picture, and you and I are his most dangerous allies. I'm certain I could kill you, if necessary, but I never saw the need. I'm not stronger than him yet, but I will be, and it needs to happen soon, because there is no way that he will have my child while I still draw breath."

"Is Satine-" Kenobi quickly waved off the question.

"Not yet, but I suspect she will be _very_ soon. Sidious has taken a personal interest in her conceiving."

"That can't be good."

"I couldn't agree more."

Dooku looked the younger man over, watched the golden eyes occasionally dart swiftly away, his attention snapping elsewhere toward something that only he could see. "I know we do not often see eye to eye," the Count began slowly. "And we have detested each other since the day we met, but I believe a great deal of that is born from our Master. If we unite, we have a chance to end the cycle and destroy him. We can rule the galaxy _together._ "

"No, I'm going to rule the galaxy with Satine." Kenobi leaned back and slowly stretched out his side, the droid stepping away as it finished its work. He'd need to rest for a few days, and there was a vicious scar upon his side, but it was no longer bleeding. "Besides, if we defeat him together, who would be the new Master? I certainly won't follow you, and you would never submit to me, and you know very well that I could kill you."

"Yes," Dooku mused. "But you won't."

"Oh, won't I."

Dooku shook his head. "What does it mean to be a Sith alone? With both me and Sidious dead, you would be the only one left."

"I can take an apprentice. This galaxy does not lack for those with dark ambitions."

"No, but this galaxy lacks for _talent_."

Kenobi growled. "Dooku, Sidious wants my child to train! I don't need to find an apprentice, I'll be producing my own."

"And you mean to rule a galaxy, raise a child, revive the Sith Empire, and take an apprentice when your progeny is old enough all alone?" Obi-Wan started to answer, than quickly bit his tongue and looked away. Dooku leaned against the table next to the man and crossed his arms across his chest. "You cannot do this alone. Even Sidious cannot do this alone. If he could, he wouldn't have you and me running about the galaxy for him."

"I...concede that you have a point. But the problem still stands. Which of us would be the Master?"

Dooku stroked his beard. "We could rule together. You are stronger than I am, but I have the political sway that you lack, and we will need both to be successful. Sidious has long discussed taking apart the Rule of Two. It worked while we were forced to live in the shadows, but as the lords of the galaxy, we will need a multitude to enforce our rule."

"Sidious and I discussed exactly that," Obi-Wan growled. "Why would I want to rule beside you when I could rule beside him?"

"I don't want to take your child from you."

"You have betrayed me before."

"And _now_ ," Dooku snarled, his dark brown eyes flashing yellow for the briefest of moments, " _Master_ has commanded me to kill the apprentice that I worked so hard to train. He is responsible for what happened to Asajj, and don't think you are immune just because he has made a deal in your benefit. When your child is born, he will take it from you, and he will destroy everything you care about, because he will have what he wants, and when it suits him, he will kill you too."

Obi-Wan drummed his fingers on the table for a moment before he slid off to stand on his feet, wincing when his boots hit the hard floor. He breathed deeply, his side aching as his chest expanded, and he felt the Force, so turbulent, so disturbed, still screaming in its anguish. This was not because of the death of Asajj Ventress. This was something else, something far beyond a single person. It was possible that Sidious had accomplished something with her death, but he doubted it. Nothing had changed. The galaxy was still at war, and life still went on, even when millions of beings were dying each day. The Force didn't scream for Asajj Ventress. It screamed for something else. And still...

He couldn't shake the feeling that the two things were related, and deep within him, he didn't believe that Ventress was dead. If she was, he would have felt it, of this he was certain. No, the Force brought him _here_ , to Serenno, to Dooku, despite their antagonistic relationship, despite their hatred for each other. If the Force did not want them united, than _why_.

"I don't want to fight our Master," Obi-Wan finally said. "You're right that we can take him together, but if he dies now, we jeopardize the Sith Imperative. Everything we have worked for, everything the Sith have been moving into place for a thousand years will be completely destroyed. We can't let ambition and revenge get in the way of the will of the Dark Side."

"I agree," the Count said slowly, watching as Kenobi picked up his discarded robes and frowned when he put his hand through the blood-soaked hole in the fine fabric. "But we are in agreement that our Master has outlived his usefulness when the Empire is born."

"Or very shortly thereafter, yes..." Kenobi said absently, tossing the robes to the side and sneering with disgust. "We can work out the details of it later. If we find that this new alliance of ours _actually_ functions, well..." Obi-Wan shrugged, a small smile on his lips. "It's very possible that Sidious has kept us antagonistic toward each other just to keep such a union from happening."

"Ventress' death may be his final mistake."

"It may be. And while we're speaking truths, Dooku," Obi-Wan drawled, "there is something wrong in the Force. I don't know what it is, or why it has happened, but it lines up with Sidious commanding you to kill Asajj. That _can't_ be coincidence."

Concern crossed Dooku's face as he listened, and he reached into the Force, deep within it, and felt... _nothing_. "I don't feel what you do, Kenobi."

"No, but our Master has always said my connection is uniquely deep. Trust me. I've no cause to deceive you, not now. Not when my future hinges on our ability to bring Darth Sidious down." Dooku stared at him for a long while, and Kenobi could feel him grasp at his mind to look for sincerity, and he recoiled quickly when he found it and nodded.

"I accept that what you say is the truth. But what is to be done about it?"

"I don't know. But we need to be cautious. Something... _something's_ not right, and I'm willing to bet my clone army that Asajj Ventress isn't dead. I don't yet know what that means, but I _really_ don't think it's going to be good for any of us."

Dooku scoffed. "We are both stronger than she ever was, or ever could be."

"Maybe so, but she's not the one that concerns me. It's the Nightsisters, it's Mother Talzin."

The Count laughed, cold and dismissive. "We have nothing to fear from Mother Talzin."

"I disagree. We don't understand her, we don't know her, but _she_ knows _us_ , and she has had personal dealings with all three Sith alive today. I think she's _very_ dangerous, and we need to be cautious."

Dooku was silent for a moment as he thought, his swift mind running through everything that had happened, everything he knew about Obi-Wan, and his eyes narrowed as he came to a conclusion. "This is about your visions, isn't it? This is about Maul."

A shiver ran through the younger Sith Lord and his already pale skin whitened further, and Dooku knew he his the mark. "I-I don't know..." Obi-Wan whispered. "I think it might be, but I don't know..."

The Count's large hand came to rest on Kenobi's shoulder. "Rest tonight, Darth Lumis. We will have plenty of time to discuss this in the next few days."

* * *

Obi-Wan had long ago stopped brushing off his restless dreams as simply nightmares. The Jedi had often told him that dreams were often just dreams, and believing in them too much could lead him astray, and anyway, if Obi-Wan had been talented enough to sense the future, than the Masters would have felt that he had such a gift. The Jedi, as usual, knew nothing, and within the first month of his apprenticeship, Darth Sidious had pointed out how remarkable his gift was, how freely the Force flowed through him, how accurate his visions were, and they _were_ visions, not the product of nightmares. So when he lay in the bed that had once been his in Dooku's palace, and dreams immediately swept him away, he paid rapt attention.

They flew by in a blur, so rapidly, so frantic that he woke in a cold sweat and was sent to vomiting out a window, and still the Force would not relent. It wasn't just disturbed, it was in a state of panic, and it seemed to feel the need to drag Obi-Wan through the turmoil with it, not showing him the _cause_ , but bringing him visions of the _result_. With a growl of frustration, he threw himself back into bed, yelping in pain when his wrapped injury hit his fist, and the sudden jolt was enough to sharpen his focus long enough to see what the Force needed him to see.

Like always, there was the field of dead Jedi an the two standing among them, and he frowned deeply to see the Togruta still remained, despite Shaak Ti's capture and enslavement, both at his hands and at the hands of Cody, who had finally managed to break the Jedi to his advancements. She wasn't the one the Force had shown him. He'd have to keep looking. When it faded, it was replaced by another, one of a town burning to the ground as two Zabrak's with red lightsabers cut down the villagers. Quickly, the town became a city, than a planet, and as the planet was consumed in the inferno, the cruel, laughing face of Maul materialized out of smoke and flames.

It was new. New was good, but it was also unwelcome. New visions meant the course the Force flowed down had been altered, and Obi-Wan had _liked_ the path it had cut, a path that ended in Sith galactic domination, with Satine at his side as Queen and mother to the Sith Lords of a mighty Empire. He saw none of that now, at least, not yet. He had pulled out of the vision when fury gripped him, the Dark Side raging against this change in direction, but also pulling at him in warning so insistent that Obi-Wan would have to be a fool to ignore it. This could yet be changed. All he needed to do was heed the Dark Side, be mindful of its warnings, and all would be well.

And yet, caution still pulled at him, the Force prodding him with an urgency he rarely felt, and Kenobi couldn't help but think of Ventress. Had she felt like this when she learned she was going to die? Did the Force reach out to save her, or had it left her just as Dooku had? Obi-Wan never felt fear in the flows of the Force, but poor Asajj must have. Everything she had ever known was gone in an instant, vanished into nothingness, and all because Darth Sidious had uttered two words: _kill her_. They had to be obeyed, there was no other choice, but Ventress would never understand that, just as Obi-Wan could never understand how his Jedi brothers had betrayed him so long ago.

He knew she was alive, now more than he did before, and the certainty of her survival left Obi-Wan more hollow than it would have if she had simply died. She had been betrayed by her family, by the Sith she served, and while betrayal was expected within the duplicitous embrace of the Dark Side, it did not make it any easier. Deep within him, he yearned to help her, to bring her back into the fold, to return her to her place in the Dark Side, but her path would be different now. No less dark, but now turned against the Sith that had betrayed her, a weapon of their own making turned against her creators. He couldn't help her. He was Sith, and there was only one thing to be done to enemies of the Order.

The tug of sympathy he felt for his lost friend quickly turned into trepidation, unclear and uncertain, but the pull in the Force was unmistakable in its alarming worry. Someone was here, or very, very close. Kenobi jumped out of bed once again and left the room, the skin of his bare chest prickling from the cold of the dark palace halls, and he instantly missed the warm embrace of volcanic Mustafar. He traveled silently, keeping to the shadows and reaching into the Force to feel for the disturbance he knew was there. His sharp ears picked up the whistling of the wind and the echo of the clanging footfalls of battle droids out in the courtyard and far below them in the palace dungeons, but the Force was still, save for the gentle rippling of tension upon its surface, but Obi-Wan could not yet see the cause.

Kenobi breathed deep and closed his eyes, sinking into the Force to recall the lessons that Shaak Ti revealed to him through the holocrons. He had been working diligently, and now, with clarity brought on by his heightened tension and the aching pain of his recovering wound, he grasped the lessons of concealment and gripped the Dark Side, wrapping himself within its dark comforts and, slowly, stepped back into the shadows, a breath of air and the muffled sounds of his own heart and the pulsing of the Force in his ears as he blended into the darkness. It wasn't a perfect concealment, but one day, he knew it would be. One day, Obi-Wan would walk the shadows, just as he was born to do, and not a single being would be able to distinguish him from the darkness that surrounded him.

A sharp tug in the Force drew his attention down the long hall, stark shadows cast by bright moonlight making the palace seem almost alive, and keeping to his concealment, Obi-Wan moved like a cast shadow on swift, silent feet toward Dooku's room. The closer he drew, the tighter the tension in the Force, and when he punched in the code to enter, the doors slid open to reveal the Count, staggering on his feet and clearly unwell, his lightsaber drawn and held out before him to ward off the three blue and green lightsabers that slowly drew closer to him. The hairs stood up on the back of Kenobi's neck, and he rubbed his eyes and looked again, squinting at the glowing blades. He knew someone had to be holding them, he _felt_ the presence of the three intruders in the room, but both through his eyes and through the Force, they were nearly invisible, hazy and unclear and completely indistinguishable. He couldn't tell their height, their weight, their species, their gender, and the only thing he could see through the Force was their significant Force sensitivity and their hostility toward Dooku.

His hand flew to his belt to draw his own lightsaber, only to find that he had neglected to put his belt back on after Dooku's droid had treated him. He stood in the room, looking at the hazy, nearly invisible creatures, and he drew close, satisfaction racing through him when he saw that they couldn't see him at all in the dark. With a vicious snarl, Kenobi reached deep within the Force, drawing upon all the anger and rage and pain within him, and threw lightning through his extended hand at the intruders. One had sensed the violent change in the Force and had jumped gracefully away, and another managed to dive out of the onslaught just in time, but the third was not so lucky, caught in a barrage of the blue electricity so powerful that the illusion faded, revealing a woman dressed in red cloth armor, screaming as her nerves were set ablaze. With a wave of his hand, Obi-Wan threw the woman up toward the high ceiling, the body striking the hard, unyielding stone with a sickening thud, and Obi-Wan released his grip, catching her falling lightsaber as he dashed underneath to stand at Dooku's side.

The woman fell from the vaulted ceiling and was caught by the Force, one of her comrades reaching out and pulling the charred, smoking body toward the two survivors, an outraged scream echoing through the room upon discovering the woman was dead. Obi-Wan's golden eyes glowed in the low lighting as he cautiously observed the hazy, concealed figures of the other two Force sensitives, and he drew closer to Dooku, his hand resting on the other man's arm. "Are you alright?"

The Count shook his head. "They injected me with something, it has dulled my connection to the Force."

"How! How could they get so close!"

Dooku frowned. "The dart was self-propelling. And can even _you_ sense them?"

"...not well."

The Count growled, gripping his lightsaber tighter, but keeping in a defensive posture and blinking his hazy eyes. "The Jedi have finally sent assassins."

"You believe they are Jedi?"

"I do."

Frowning, Kenobi looked over the weapon in his hand, gripped it tightly, flicked it on and the long, blue blade extending and casting a faint glow around them. "This weapon _is_ of Jedi make, but a Jedi lightsaber can be held in anyone's hands. They don't feel like Jedi to me, Dooku, they don't even feel like a natural part of the Force. They're using the Dark Side, but it's...not like us."

"We can debate this after they are dead," Dooku growled, his red blade twisting in his hand as he slowly advanced with Kenobi at his side. The cloaked assailants launched themselves at the Sith Lords with a renewed vengeance, screeching their fury, and Obi-Wan could feel the Dark Side pulling and raging around them. They were fast, exceptionally agile and frightfully strong in the Force, augmenting their natural athleticism to make them move almost supernaturally, and they quickly targeted Dooku, a focused effort to attack the Count when he had been weakened. Whoever they were, they did all they could to put distance between themselves and Kenobi, as he was a more unpredictable, unknown element, and with swift flips and quick feints and dodges, they managed to keep Dooku between the themselves and the furious Obi-Wan.

He was becoming frustrated, and not being able to see these attackers was making fighting them exceptionally difficult, the mist that surrounded them concealing not just their movements, but their missteps and mistakes as well. Grabbing hold of the Force, Obi-Wan placed himself into its guiding hands and closed his eyes. His vision was misleading him, but the Force had _never_ led him astray, and it was true now as well. With his vision no longer impeding his judgement, he relied on his senses to detect the assailants, and just as ever, the Force had not failed them. Through the dark, rippling waters, he could see their glowing green outline, sense the darkness they commanded, so unlike the darkness that rested within himself, and he opened himself to the Dark Side and became one with it.

Their speed no longer mattered. Obi-Wan could feel what they were going to do before they did it, and he moved to defend Dooku against the vicious assault, and despite his impediment, the Count was holding his own. Kenobi crouched down and used the Force to augment him as he jumped high over the other Sith, lashing out with his blade as he twisted in the air over the two lithe combatants, and landed behind them. He immediately drove himself between the two, narrowly side stepping as a green blade came sweeping down at him, so close he could feel the heat radiating off the plasma blade, and he spun, the sharp turn and the quick lashing out of his own blue blade cutting so dangerously close to the woman that she had to swiftly retreat to avoid it. It was enough, and Kenobi didn't waste a second to push his offense, the Jedi weapon in wicked hands cutting a fierce blue trail through the air as he forced the concealed creature back. Even diminished, Dooku could handle a single opponent. Leaving him was fine.

Kenobi didn't let up for a moment, the blue weapon slashing wide, vicious arcs through the air at such speeds that the light trail the weapon left in the air looked like ribbons, and it proved to be too much for the assailant as she was quickly overwhelmed. Upon feeling the intruder's grim resolve and acceptance that she was about to die, Kenobi smiled wickedly and reflexively opened his eyes for just a moment, and his senses were instantly scrambled, his eyes forcing him to look at the shimmering, vague mist where a person should have been, and the Force screaming against what was before him.

Quickly, he closed his eyes again, but a second was long enough for the woman to dart between his guard, the green blade angled at his chest, and he spun out of the way, his hand reaching out to swiftly grab the wrist that held the lightsaber. His rage fueled his strength, and the grip became crushing, the woman gasping in pain as Obi-Wan felt the fragile bones in her wrist shift and crack and fracture under the pressure of the Dark Side that strengthened the Sith. The lightsaber dropped uselessly to the ground as her wrist shattered, and Kenobi pulled her forward to send her sprawling to the ground, but a swift hand darted up to grab him behind the neck, the woman using him to catch herself. Before he could get his bearings, he was roughly jerked sideways, and his vision exploded in a flash of blinding light as pain tore through him when the woman's knee was brought with her full strength into the bandages on his side.

With intense pain came a fury so overwhelming, so pervasive, that a searing heat filled the Sith Lord, his golden eyes blazing as he dug his fingers into the woman's throat and pulled down so hard that Kenobi felt the wind pipe in her fragile neck snap. The woman jerked forward, her eyes widening as the Sith's blue lightsaber pierced right through her, and with a snarl of rage, Kenobi wrenched the weapon sideways, nearly bisecting the thin body, and with an upward strike, he severed the head from her pale gray shoulders. Obi-Wan looked over just in time to see Dooku upon his knees on the ground, his curved lightsaber hilt clear across the room, and his hands extended, holding the remaining intruder in the air as she was electrocuted. With a final surge of strength, he tore his hand through the air, sending the electrocuted woman crashing through the large window and falling down the cliffs below.

Obi-Wan ran to the window and threw it open, leaning out over the ledge and peering down into the darkness, reaching out with the Force to feel for the woman's presence, but he found none. Kenobi frowned. She could either be dead, or the vagueness given to her by her concealment could simply be preventing him from sensing her from a distance. Either way, she was gone. He stood up straight, eyes closed and breathing deeply, and he could feel thick, hot blood running in a steady stream down his leg. He laid a hand on his side, and felt the bandages to be completely saturated through. This day was shaping up to be one of his worst.

"Are you alright?" Kenobi asked, his voice a weak, thin shadow of his usual commanding presence, and he cleared his throat and swallowed hard. Dooku nodded, groaning as he rose to his feet, and he shuffled to the younger Sith, put a hand on his bare back, and led him to the bed. Kenobi sat upon it without complaint, and Dooku lowered himself next to him, taking the comlink from his belt and he lazily tapped a few buttons before tossing the thing to the side.

"I've called for the medical droid."

"I'm fine. It's just blood."

Dooku sighed. "For both of us."

"You're going to want to take a blood sample. We need to analyze whatever it is they used to poison you." Kenobi laughed harshly. "This is sort of pathetic, isn't it? We're the most powerful beings in the galaxy, and we're sitting on a bed waiting for medical attention. Sidious would never have accepted this."

"Even our Master was once an apprentice, Lumis. He faced setbacks worse than these, I'm sure."

Kenobi laughed, falling back onto the bed and grinning as Dooku cursed when he saw blood soaking into his fine threaded sheets. "What do you suppose they were?"

"We can check the bodies when we have been tended to, Kenobi."

"Humor me."

Without a beat, Dooku growled, "Jedi. Assassins, I don't know, but whoever they are, they are bold enough to attack me in my own home. I shall have to increase my security." He paused, waiting for Kenobi to answer, looking at him when he did not, and roughly shaking him when he found the bleeding man with his eyes closed. Kenobi didn't open his eyes, but he did hiss in pain and irritation, and Dooku breathed a sigh of relief. They had never liked each other, but after this, after they had fought together, not against one another, but as a team, Dooku could feel the dynamic between them shift. "And you, Kenobi?" he asked. "What do you believe they were."

Without thinking, without even considering any other options, Obi-Wan quietly hissed, "Nightsisters."


	62. Caleb Dume

Caleb Dume walked slowly through the Jedi Temple on his way to the mess hall after training all morning for the Initiate Trials. They were less than a week away, and he was beginning to become a bit nervous. The Jedi had been rushing to put more Padawans out into the field of battle alongside hardened Masters, replacements for the ones that had been lost. It was a frightening time to be a Jedi Padawan, as the enemy put a priority on the deaths of the Jedi who commanded the clones. For Caleb, the thing he was worried about most was not being selected by a Jedi Knight or Master in time to get in on the action. He wanted to fight for the glory of the Republic. He wanted to represent the Jedi on the field of battle, he wanted to stand for peace and justice in a time when the galaxy needed most. He also wanted a hot meal. Training under Master Qui-Gon Jinn was _hard_.

At a very recent thirteen, Caleb was still a bit on the young side to be taken as a Padawan, and certainly too young for the heat of war, but Ahsoka Tano was only three years his senior, and _she_ was running around the galaxy with the notorious Jedi Master Quinlan Vos. It was _terribly_ unfair, but surely, nobody would be so cruel to end the war before he got a chance to be tested. His mind wondered, as it so often did, as he looked around the halls filled with younglings and initiates on their way to afternoon lessons or heading toward the Room of a Thousand Fountains for meditation, and Caleb found himself walking against the slow, milling flow of the others. There were so few Jedi in the Temple these days. There was no lack of younglings or initiates, but _real_ Jedi and their Padawan learners, the Masters and the Council members, all of them were out fighting against the Separatists. Every able bodied Jedi was needed, especially now that the rise of the Mandalorian Empire was making the Separatist fight even harder for possession of unaligned worlds and systems.

In truth, they were lucky to have Qui-Gon Jinn there to teach them as he recovered from an injury he had obtained in a recent battle. The old Master was not only terribly strong in the Force, but he was an active General in the Army of the Republic, and he had a wealth of knowledge to share not only about the Separatist they were fighting, but about the Sith that threatened to tear them apart. Not only was he trained by Dooku, the Sith Lord Tyranus, but Qui-Gon had _raised_ Obi-Wan Kenobi, the infamous Sithkiller, fallen Jedi, and Lord of the Sith Darth... _something_. Caleb bit his lip as he had passed a group of initiates that stood together whispering and laughing. He'd have to ask Master Jinn about the Sith one day, he had so many questions that the others seemed to know so little about. Like why the Sith had returned. How could the Jedi not feel it? What was it that made a Sith a Lord? Why did they take different names when they became Sith? And if Obi-Wan Kenobi was Sith, why didn't _he_ have a new name? Did it mean he was still a Jedi? If not, than why? How?

The crowed in the hall passed, and Caleb was alone again, his soft, slow steps sounding with a muffled echo against the vaulted ceiling. Most were headed for lunch, and he was as well, but he had a stop to make at the infirmary first. He did so every day at least once as soon as he had the time, and he _always_ made sure there was time for it. He wasn't hurt, not this time, at least, and it irritated the medical droid TB-2 to no end that the pesky, inquisitive youngling bothered him on a daily basis, but there was little it could do to make young Caleb leave. Besides, he had a reason to be there. _She_ was there. Since the first day he had seen her in the bacta tank, Caleb had felt... _something_.

He felt like he knew her, though he had never met Jedi Master Depa Billaba before, but something drove him to her, day after day after day, and his questions about that were met with no answers, only lectures. "You must have control over yourself, youngling," Jocasta Nu had told him more than once when he had asked her why he was driven to her, asked who she was, what had happened, what was actually wrong with the Jedi floating in the light blue healing vat. The Jedi taught that there was supposed to be knowledge over ignorance, but there was also a rule somewhere about knowing your place and showing due respect, or...something like that. Caleb's curious nature made those things difficult for him.

His mind could freely wander as he made his way to the medical wing, as he had made this journey every single day for over a year now. After a while, even he had stopped asking why he went, he just knew he had to. His friends Tai and Sammo had thought he was insane to latch on to a Jedi Master that was clearly never going to recover when there were other Jedi Knights and Masters that needed Padawans. The Masters that served on the Council were largely without Padawans, though training under them seemed to be extremely dangerous, as Sith Lord Obi-Wan appeared to be targeting them, but the younglings were still eager to impress, and became downright show-offs when Qui-Gon Jinn had come to teach. True, the old Master had something of a reputation, having trained the rogue Kenobi, but he had also been responsible for training Anakin Skywalker, a Jedi that was quickly becoming the poster boy of the Jedi Order and the most famous General in the Republic.

But while his fellows were trying to impress the likes of Qui-Gon Jinn and Anakin Skywalker, Caleb Dume did nothing to seek their approval or their attention, which was, admittedly, an odd choice for a boy that wanted to travel the galaxy beside his Master and fight against the Separatists. Instead, he walked the halls every single day to sit with the comatose Jedi Master, even if he didn't know why, even when he stopped even _asking_ himself why. It defied all logic, but...he felt this was right.

He peeked around the corner as he entered the medical wing, shifty blue eyes gazing down both sides of the hallway, and he slipped around the corner and ran as fast as he could when the coast was clear. He periodically darted into small examination rooms when he felt someone was coming, holding his breath as he listened for the sound of footsteps or the whirring of droids, and when he heard nothing, he dashed out again. He knew exactly where to go without thinking, and soon enough, he had entered the intensive care unit and made his way past rows and rows of bacta tanks in a dimly lit room. Slowing to a respectful walk, he almost tiptoed down the line as silent as he could, as if the sound of his footsteps might disturb the healing of the people within.

Caleb stopped before one at the far end, a partition separating this one from the others, and he sat on a nearby chair that he had pulled into the small room months ago that the droids had given up trying to remove when the chair simply found its way back day after day. Caleb took a deep breath as he observed her, calming his mind and reaching out to the Force to find...nothing. There was the faint thread of her life force, but he consciousness could not be detected, just like every single day before that. The mask on her face fed her oxygen and nutrients to keep her body alive and functioning, and the thick blue liquid had healed her wounds completely, pale scars on her dark skin all that remained of her grisly injuries.

She was still, as always, her thick black hair floating like a halo behind her, her thin body clothed in small black compression shorts and a tight, midriff revealing tank top that showed a body that had once been muscular and athletic, but now was atrophied from over a year without any activity at all. It was difficult to look at, even if Caleb felt a sense of peace when he did. He looked over his shoulder when he heard the whirring of droids, half expecting to have TB-2 come bearing down on him, as it always did when he thought he was alone, but Caleb found the hallway completely empty and silent, save for the quiet beeping of the monitoring device that was attached to the tank. He closed his eyes when he felt a rush in his ears, all sound becoming muffled as he felt... _something_. He wasn't sure what, but whatever it was, it was coming from the Jedi in the bacta tank. Caleb rose from his feet and took the few necessary steps to stand before the vat, and he slowly reached out and laid his hand on the cool glass.

Nothing happened. Caleb's heart sank a bit. He didn't know what he expected, but he at least thought there would be something that happened. He sighed, sliding his hand down the glass and looking up into the woman's face. The feeling in the pit of his stomach continued. He had put off lunch long enough. With a final pat on the glass, he turned to leave, and Caleb's body lurched forward and he stumbled, his head striking the seat of his chair as he fell to the ground. He sat up with a groan, wincing as he rubbed his head, and he could feel the Force, strong and insistent and pulling at him. Caleb ignored it, shaking his head to clear the pain, and found himself being dragged backwards. With a gasp, he dug his fingers into the ground, but still he moved. Looking over his shoulder, he saw deep, brown eyes staring at him from the bacta tank and a hand pressed insistently to the inside of the glass. Depa Billaba was awake.

With a strangled cry, Caleb jumped to his feet and pressed his hands and his face against the tank, looking her over and feeling the Force that she commanded, strong but gentle, flowing freely through her. She was pointing to the side of the tank, and Caleb followed her finger to the softly beeping controls. Without thinking, he slammed his hand down upon the panel, and it flashed red in warning just as he brought his hand down upon it again. Quickly, the tank began to drain, the blue liquid leaving through a grate in the bottom, and less than a minute later, the vat hissed and lifted, leaving Master Billaba exposed and shivering as she removed the breathing mask, coughing fitfully as fresh air rushed into her lungs for the first time in over a year.

All Caleb could do was stare, his mouth hanging open and his heart humming in his chest as he looked upon the Jedi Master that everyone said would never recover as she coughed and sputtered and gasped for breath. He forgot how to speak, how to move, how to do _anything_ , and even though his mind was screaming at him to stop looking like a fool and do something, his body wouldn't move. It didn't take long for the medical droids to arrive in force, surrounding the woman as they ran physical scans and examinations, and the irritated drone of TB-2 saw Caleb forcefully expelled from the room, and the youngling was too tongue-tied and shocked to resist.

When his body had calmed and his heart rate slowed, Caleb indignantly tried to push his way back in, but the droids were forceful and prevented him from entering. He was too short to see over their shoulders, and when he bent over to peer between their legs, all he could see was a distant crowd of droids. With a sigh, he slunk off, but not too far, sliding down a wall and sitting on the ground with his arms wrapped around his knees. He didn't even understand what had happened. His training had never covered things like this.

Caleb didn't know how long he sat against the wall, a never ending stream of questions running through his head. He had answers to none of them, and thinking about them for too long simply yielded more questions. He had been so hungry before, but now, food seemed so unappealing.

"Youngling." The voice was calm and kind, and Caleb looked up to see Master Billaba, dressed in clean, rough spun brown robes standing a short way down the hall, a small smile on her face. He jumped to his feet and stood stiff as a board and hardly breathing. "Come along." He didn't need to be told twice. A moment later, he was at the Master's side, keeping an easy pace next to her as they went...somewhere. He didn't know _where_ they were going, now that he thought about it. She just asked him to follow, and he obeyed.

They walked in silence for a long while before Caleb could take it no longer and swiftly blurt out, "Where are we going?"

She smiled gently. "After all this time, that is the first question you have?"

"...I have a lot of questions."

"I'm certain you do. As do I." Caleb looked up at her curiously. "The droids told me you came to me every day. Why?"

"I-I..." He couldn't answer. No matter what he said, he would sound like an idiot before this Master, and that was the last thing he wanted. There was silence, and it was awkward, and Caleb looked sidelong at Depa to see her looking at him. She was waiting. He swallowed hard. "I just...it felt like the right thing to do." To his relief, she seemed to accept this.

"We are going to report in to the High Council. My report is long overdue."

"Which report?"

"...from Haruun Kal." Caleb was silent as he studied the Master, her kind face dropping into a grim pensiveness, and his mind flooded with questions, Depa seeming to notice when she sighed heavily. "You have questions." He opened his mouth to speak, but she swiftly put her finger to his lips. "I'll give you three."

"Three!?" Caleb gasped, his mind racing with hundreds of questions, but he couldn't grab a single one. "How am I supposed to pick just three!"

Depa smiled. "Wisely. You have two left."

Caleb gawked at her. "Wait, did that question count?"

She nodded. "As did that one. Your last question, youngling."

This time, Caleb held his tongue, thinking long and hard about what he would ask, but a single question kept coming to his mind. "Everyone said that you were broken," he said quietly. "They said you were never coming back. Why? What happened to you?"

Depa chuckled sadly. "I appreciate your directness, young one. The short answer is that I led my men to their deaths. Good men, who didn't deserve to die, and as their General, I failed them." They stepped into an elevator, the door hissing closed as they began to rise, but Caleb hardly noticed. "And then I faced a Sith Lord. I was unprepared for..." She hissed as she looked away, her hand coming to her face, and Caleb could feel the pain in the woman. He reached out and gently lay a comforting hand on her arm. "He got inside my head and tore me apart from the inside."

"I-I'm sorry..." Caleb said, his voice barely a whisper and his chest aching with sympathy, but the Master simply shook her head. "You seem fully recovered..."

"Perhaps..." Depa said softly. "But the fact of the matter is that many good men under my command are dead. Those deaths are my responsibility, and I fear causing more." She laughed bitterly. "Which makes my usefulness as a General in the field suspect at best."

"But the Sith-"

"The Sith are not the issue," she said swiftly, dismissing the notion before Caleb could even finish the thought. "Any trouble I have in my recovery, any challenge I fail rests on me, and me alone. Count Dooku, Obi-Wan Kenobi, any other Sith we may face simply provide the grounds on which we are tested. It is up to us, not them, if we face failure, both during the trial, and after." She smiled at him as the doors hissed open and they stepped out. "Do you understand, young one?" Caleb shook his head, and the Master closed her eyes. "You will in time." She moved her hand through the air, the large door of the Council Chamber opening before her, and she stepped toward it, the youngling staying rooted to his place by the elevator. Depa looked over her shoulder at him. "Well? Come along."

They entered the chamber together, Depa breathing deeply as she looked around the room at the twelve chairs placed in a circle around the windows at the walls. All the seats were vacant except for one, the old Master sitting cross-legged with his eyes closed, and Depa and Caleb felt his presence reach out to him, and Qui-Gon Jinn smiled. "Depa Billaba," Jinn said softly, his blue eyes opening and gently regarding the other Master, his hand extended to one of the vacant seats. "Welcome back. The Council has needed you."

She stared warily at the seat, a pained expression on her face. "Has my seat not been filled?"

"It has," Jinn said softly. "But we have since lost two more to Obi-Wan. We have yet to fill those seats, and one is yours, if you will take it." With a deep breath, Depa nodded and took the seat that had once been hers.

"You don't have the power to give this back to me," she said softly, "but I appreciate the offer."

"I'm certain the Masters will have no trouble in reinstating you, once you have cleared the tests they certainly have in store for you. After what happened to Eeth Koth, there is some cause for concern, as I'm sure you understand."

She nodded. "Where is everyone?" she asked, beaconing Caleb to come to her, and the youngling quickly and dutifully did as she commanded, kneeling by her feet and looking in wonder around the room. He'd never been in the Chamber of the Jedi High Council before.

Qui-Gon smiled sadly. "Where is everyone...it's a simple question with a difficult answer. I fear you have missed a great deal." And he told her all of it. Caleb listened with rapt attention as Qui-Gon Jinn explained all that had happened after Haruun Kal, about the injuries sustained by Mace and Kit, about the disappearance of Shaak Ti and Saesee Tiin, about the Republic victories and defeats, about the formation of the Mandalorian Empire controlled by the Sith, and Caleb Dume listened intently through it all. Really, he was uncertain why he was even allowed to be there to hear all of it, why a Master as renowned as Qui-Gon Jinn, who now sat in the Council second only to Yoda himself, would allow a youngling to a discussion between Masters without question. He didn't understand, but in his presence, he felt comfort and an easy grace.

"So everyone is in the field?" Depa had asked after the long while it took Qui-Gon to explain, and he nodded.

"With the exception of myself and Master Yoda, yes. Yoda sits in meditation to see if he can't sense any more of the Sith and I, well..." He smiled sheepishly. "I'm recovering. It's nothing serious, but I will be out a few days more. It gave some of the others a chance to leave. Mace hasn't been in the field since Haruun Kal."

"That must have killed him. He has always been itching for a fight."

"Perhaps, but Obi-Wan had humbled him a bit. I would say it did him good, if we did not need him so badly to be fighting." He stopped and looked the woman over, frowning as uncertainty came off of her in waves. "What is it?"

"You should not be trusting me," she said softly. "I only just came back from what that Sith had done to me. You don't know if he had altered my mind, or... _tampered_ with me. You didn't even ask. How could you be so careless?"

"As I have said, Obi-Wan spent a day here on Coruscant, and I spent that day learning what he can do, how he thinks, and where his place in the Force is. I know his darkness. I know what it looks like, what it feels like, how it seeps into a person's mind, and his touch is not upon you. It is true he has broken you, but he never touched your soul." He smiled gently. "I believe you will find that to be true as well, as will the other Masters."

She breathed deep, felt the warm, comforting embrace of the Force, and she knew it was true. "He killed my sister," she said softly, and she heard Caleb gasp beside her. Qui-Gon leaned forward, his elbows upon his knees as Depa held up her hands, the sleeves of her roe falling down to reveal the scars left by the lightsaber burns on her wrists and on the pit of her throat. "He told me when we fought. He... _cut me_ the way he had cut her in her final moments."

"...that was cruel of him."

"He is Sith, Qui-Gon, of course he is cruel."

"Do you seek revenge?"

Depa didn't say anything for a long while, and then she shook her head. "I did at the time. I thought I did, but now..." She sighed heavily. "My sister has been with the Force for a long while. How she got there no longer matters."

Qui-Gon bowed his head. "I'm sorry...Obi-Wan's fall to the Dark Side is my doing. Every life he claims, every cruelty he inflicts can be laid at my feet as well as his."

"Didn't he choose it?" Caleb blurted out, and he swiftly covered his mouth with his hands, his ruddy skin flushing when the deep blue, compassionate eyes fell on him.

"You watch this one, Depa," Qui-Gon said, not unkindly. "There is greatness within him. Speak your mind, youngling. You would not be here if I did not care for the questions of inquisitive children."

He was quiet for a moment, shifting uncomfortably as he remembered that Qui-Gon Jinn had trained the Sith in question. It was, at best, a sore topic. "The Masters teach us to resist the Dark Side. They say that not being able to is a reflection of our own failings and weaknesses. They say that embracing the darkness is a choice."

"Your Masters aren't wrong," Jinn said softly. "But sometimes, the only choice you are given are bad ones. Sometimes, there is no easy choice, or right choice. When faced with that, what will you do?"

It took a moment for Caleb to realize that the question wasn't rhetorical, that the Masters sat there and watched him patiently, waiting expectantly for an answer. He stuttered for a moment, looking away as he thought before he quietly answered, "I'd do what was best for the most amount of people."

"Oh?" Qui-Gon smiled slyly. "Say you are a Padawan, faced with impossible odds, and your Master's life, a battle, the fate of a planet hangs on your victory. The power of the Dark Side lays just in reach, and grabbing hold of it will give you a chance for victory when there was none before. What would you do?"

Caleb started to answer, than quickly stopped, thinking for a moment before he said in a firm voice, "There is _always_ another way. I wouldn't do it."

Qui-Gon smiled sadly. "It is so easy to say that. This is the choice that Obi-Wan was faced with, and he touched the Dark Side in order to defeat a Sith Lord. Was this not done for the greater good?"

"W-well..."

"What he did was wrong, youngling, but he was faced with a situation where there were no right answers," the Master said softly, leaning back in his seat. "I have had a very long time to try to understand my wayward student, and it was ultimately my fault that he was given no other choice. We always had a different understanding of the Force, and toward the end, we fought often. I handled him badly, forced him to embrace darkness just to cling to balance, neglected him in favor of another when he needed me most."

"You cannot blame yourself for his choice, Qui-Gon," Depa said, but the other Master shook his head.

"I can, because the fault is mine. I gave him no choice but darkness." He looked at Caleb, the young boy gripping his knees tightly as he listened. "The lesson, child, is that there are right choices and wrong choices, but sometimes, the only choices you have are bad ones, but you still have to choose."

"W-what do you do then?" Caleb asked, and Qui-Gon smiled sadly.

"You do all you can not to lose yourself. We are not Sith, young one. There is good, and there is evil, but we must not allow that distinction to cloud or vision, or get in the way of compassion and understanding."

"But won't that make it easier for the Sith to kill us?" Caleb asked. "If we just try to understand them, and all they want to do is kill us, then they win."

Qui-Gon nodded. "Not everyone can be saved, you are right. But still we must try. Cruelty and violence only breeds more of the same. It's the job of the Jedi to stop this cycle by approaching problems with patience and understanding."

"...how do we do that in a time of war?"

"I'll let you know as soon as I figure that out."

Depa laid her hand on the youngling's shoulder. "Enough questions for now. Master Jinn has given you plenty to think about." Caleb silently nodded and looked down at the ground. He only had more questions. Perhaps Master Billaba could explain further another time. "When will the others return?"

Qui-Gon smiled. "Oh, when they find out you have returned? I suppose they will be here by morning."

"They can abandon their battles so quickly?" Qui-Gon simply shrugged.

"After Obi-Wan had come to Coruscant, he has been rarely seen. Dealing with him right now is not a priority, and while Grievous is still a problem, nobody has seen Asajj Ventress in weeks. Soldiers from the battles over Sullust are insisting that she was killed in action, but we have yet to confirm that. And as for the rest, the biggest confrontations right now are on Umbara and Mon Cala, but the Generals in command there are not on the Council." A light on Qui-Gon's armrest began flashing, and he sighed heavily, a weary smile on his lips. "I swear, he can hear when he's being talked about," he said sheepishly, answering the com, and the room dimmed, a life-size hologram of a wet, frustrated Anakin Skywalker projected within the room. The General bowed swiftly.

"Master Qui-Gon. Good to see you up and about. How's the leg?" Skywalker said tersely, and the Master shook his head.

"Well enough. How are our Mon Calamari allies?"

" _Fine_ ," he said harshly, crossing his arms in front of his chest and scowling. "The Quarren have been pressed back, the new Mon Calamari king has been instated, and the battle has been won."

"That hardly seems to be something to be upset about."

"No, all that is _fine_!" Anakin nearly shouted. "The problem is what happened _after_ the battle had been won. While we were all underneath the water, _someone_ was up above stealing our ship!"

"...excuse me?" Qui-Gon felt a pit in his stomach as he watched Anakin become even more angry.

"We came up for pickup after we were ready to go, only to find that someone has stolen the _Endurance_ and the entire battalion of clones she carried. They are _all_ gone."

Qui-Gon groaned loudly, burying his face in his hands. "Return to Coruscant, Anakin. I fear we need another change of tactic." With a nod, Anakin cut the com, and the room was left in silence. "Youngling," Master Jinn said, his voice weary, "please bring Master Billaba back to her quarters. It's been a long day, and I fear tomorrow will be even longer."

With an enthusiastic nod, Caleb jumped to his feet and took the Master's hand, and despite how grim the Masters were, he couldn't help but feel a warmth in the Force. This was where he was meant to be.


	63. The Apprentice

The clones convulsed on the hard ground, tearing off their helmets and gripping their heads as their eyes rolled back, their mouths frothed, the sound of a repeated command echoing in their heads and driving them to madness, the words, "Good soldiers follow orders" on their lips, spoken in the same mindless cadence as the voice in their minds. On a platform above, overlooking the thousands of clones, was Obi-Wan, his eyes closed and his hands extended as he reached into identical minds and tripped the biochip in their brains, altering the command ever so slightly to suit his needs when subservience washed over them. Next to him stood Cody, the clone commander's hand tightly gripping the back of Admiral Shoan Kilian's neck, the gasping commander of the _Endurance_ on his knees and clutching his ribs, which were certain to be broken.

Cody shifted his weight from one foot to the other, watching closely as his clone brothers were freed from the chains the Republic had created them with. This was the last group that needed conversion, and Obi-Wan had done the entire battalion in record speed, far faster than the first time he had done it. His Master was much, _much_ more powerful than he had been a year ago, and liberating the entire battalion seemed almost effortless for the Sith Lord. Of course, Cody didn't know how difficult or easy it was, as he had no knowledge of the Force or Kenobi's command over it. What he _did_ know was that his brothers were being freed, and while these clones would be serving on Mandalore and not with the 212th, Cody was just glad that another battalion was being freed of their shackles. He knew the phrase in three languages, as Kenobi chanted it when deep in his meditations. Ashajontû kotswinot itsu nuyak in Sith. Adol parjai ner mircin cuyir shuk'la in Mando'a. And in Basic, through victory, my chains are broken.

Kenobi let out a shuddering breath as he dropped his hands, his clones of the 212th rushing forward to take their brothers away when they had stilled, and the Sith looked at his work with satisfaction. "Do you remember when I freed you, Cody?" he asked softly, and the clone nodded, tightening his grip on the Admiral at his feet.

"I do, my Lord. It was... _liberating_. I didn't know I was a slave until you showed me the way."

Kenobi smirked, his golden eyes looking over the clone and his captive. He imagined that Sidious wouldn't be pleased about the capture and indoctrination of another clone battalion, but Obi-Wan had a plan to placate his Master. After all, these clones were meant to be _gifts_. They wouldn't even be going to the Separatists, they would be going to treasured, protected Mandalore. The clones were a gift for Satine, and Kenobi could see no reason why Cody shouldn't have the Admiral as a gift as well. Shoan Kilian belonged to him, after all. They _all_ belonged to him, and he would do with them as he pleased.

"What would you do with this Admiral, Cody?" Kenobi asked smoothly, watching the clone's strong hand tighten in anger. "After all, he's the one that held the chains of your brothers."

Cody growled in anger as he looked at the defiant Admiral Shoan, and he threw him to the ground, standing over him with his blaster raised. "...what do you wish done with this filth, my Lord?"

"Mm, I think you may have better ideas than me, Cody. He's yours." The clone looked at him in confusion for a moment before a cruel grin spread across his face.

"You are too good to me, Master. You have already given me a Jedi."

"And you made a pleasure slave out of her. I'm impressed, and I look forward to what you will do with this one."

"He enslaved us," the clone said firmly. "Maybe we'll see how _he_ likes slavery."

"There's my boy," Kenobi said, patting Cody on the shoulder as he began to leave. "I'm disembarking. Come to the palace when you're done up here." Cody saluted swiftly, and Obi-Wan was off for the hangar so he could get the _Umbra_ and fly down to Mustafar from the captive _Endurance_. Cody would repurpose the ship in no time at all, and after that...Obi-Wan hadn't decided what to do with it yet. With its crew going to serve on Mandalore, he simply didn't have the manpower to run another Star Destroyer, and he didn't think he could get away with stealing more clones for personal use. With due time and diligence, he supposed he _could_ staff this ship with his Sithspawn creations. They were a simple thing for him to create now, and there was no shortage of beings in this galaxy that could be easily obtained and converted. The loss of Mon Cala was devastating for the Quarren people. He could start there.

It had been three weeks since the attack on Serenno, and Kenobi hadn't stopped moving since. The morning after the attack as he was about to leave for a covert mission to Dathomir, Sidious had contacted Kenobi and demanded his immediate departure for Coruscant so that they may meet deep in the shrine beneath the Jedi Temple. The Sith Master had felt the change in the Force as well, and he was deeply concerned by the turbulence in the Dark Side. Together, they had sorted through the new visions the Force had given Kenobi, and Sidious agreed that the problem lay in the failed apprentice and Sith pretender Maul. The creature was alive, though Sidious could feel he was not on Dathomir. Where he was, he could not say, but if the son of Talzin had found his way home, Sidious would know about it, of that he was certain.

Finding Maul had become their top priority. The Force had demanded it, as had the Master of the Sith, and Obi-Wan immediately set out on his search. Dooku was capable of taking care of himself. He was a Sith Lord, after all, not some mewling Jedi youngling. From that moment forward, Kenobi had been pulled every which way by Sidious with new places to check, by Dooku, with new targets to attack for the war effort, by Satine, who was in desperate need of reenforcing her boarders with the fighting in the galaxy reaching a new level of ferocity. Now, three weeks of hardly any sleep had left the Sith Lord tense and strained and irritable, and he shuffled into his room and threw himself onto the bed with such finality that not even Yoda rose to greet his Master.

Sleep immediately took him, allowing Obi-Wan to walk his visions. They were so clear now, so vivid that the sharpness of them and the bright, vibrant colors were almost painful to look upon. The Jedi holocron on precognition had taught him a great deal about control and focus and how it applied to the visions he had, and Obi-Wan had grown so frightfully exceptional at the skill that he now walked the Force as one would walk in a park. The vision of the dead Jedi was always a constant, but now, it was changing ever so slightly. The Togruta remained hazy and vague, but the other, the human, the lone Padawan, had suddenly come into focus. He was still obscured in shadow, but Obi-Wan could clearly see the mused dark hair, the teal eyes that belied an inquisitive, intelligent nature, and while before, he could not take a step toward the boy without the vision moving more distant, now, it stood fixed.

Even close, Kenobi couldn't make out the details of the Padawan's face, and when he looked away, it was as if he had suddenly forgotten every detail he _could_ see. He remembered the eyes of the boy, but little more. He frowned, drew his lightsaber and cut through the young Jedi, but the red blade passed harmlessly through him, as he suspected it would. In most visions, Kenobi was a passive observer, watching closely and carefully as events that would be or _could_ be played out before him like a holovid, but this was different, and for a moment, Obi-Wan couldn't help but wonder if this Padawan was observing him too. What was it that made this child so special, so vastly important that he would stand out like a beacon in the waters of the Force? He didn't know, but his path was clear. His focus had been on the Jedi Masters and Knights that posed a much more serious threat to the Sith, but clearly, this needed to shift. He'd have to let Cody know that from this moment on, the deaths or the capture of the Padawans were a priority.

Obi-Wan moved away from the vision, despite the Force's pull to keep him there, but the other visions proved to be largely the same. Still there was the face in flames, as vague and shifting as before, the burning planet, the face of Maul, and now, the small, faint vision of a child with pale blond hair and bright blue eyes, a Sith holocron open and floating before him, and even through the vision, Obi-Wan could feel the child's power and feel the grim delight of the Dark Side. Kenobi had felt the subtle shift in the Force nearly a week ago when the child of the Dark Side had taken root and began to grow within Satine. She had yet to know, and he had been too busy to tell her about the visions, but he suspected that she would know soon. He suspected that she would _feel_ it, as suddenly, the Force was a part of her in a way it had never been before. He would be leaving for Mandalore soon to deliver the clones he had promised. He'd be certain to tell her then.

The Force tugged at him so sharply, it ripped him out of the vision, out of his restful state, and he shot up in his bed, all his senses alert, and stared at Cody, his hand on the rancor's nose and staring curiously at the Sith Lord. "It's about time," he mumbled when Kenobi fell back on the bed, his arm covering his eyes. "I called you several times, but you didn't respond."

"I was _sleeping_ ," he growled softly. "How long was I out?"

Cody shrugged. "I got here ten minutes ago, but it took me a few hours to get the clones and the ship squared away." Obi-Wan groaned and slid off the bed, stretching as he stood. It was far more rest than he had gotten in the past few weeks, and it was good enough. "You have messages, sir," Cody said, holding out a datapad to the Sith Lord, but Obi-Wan passed by him without taking it, yawning as he called his Sith holocrons to him, the pyramids floating in orbit around him, and Cody sighed, looking at the screen. "Dooku called, he says he has a new project he wants you to look at."

"I dislike his projects..." Kenobi growled, and Cody rolled his eyes.

"In the interest of your partnership, perhaps you should go. At least he is telling you about his plans now, it's an improvement to all your secret... _Sith_ dealings."

Kenobi snatched a gold and cream colored Shuura fruit from a bowl on his table and bit into it, chewing pensively as he considered Dooku and his request. "Perhaps you are right, Cody. Did he say when?"

"Immediately."

He growled in irritation and took another bite of the fruit in his hand. "I feel less of a partner and more of a servant..." Yoda sniffed at the fruit in Obi-Wan's hand, and the Sith dropped it into the rancor's mouth. "Anything else?"

"Lord Sidious would like to direct your attention to the planet Umbara in the Ghost Nebula. He feels something dark stirring there, and he believes it may be the Zabrak you are searching for."

"I'll contact him shortly." Obi-Wan muttered softly. So far, his searches had turned up nothing, but he hadn't gotten a directive so specific from Sidious before. _Something_ was on Umbara. He could feel it. Dooku would have to wait, the will of his Master superceded some project of Tyranus.

"Satine also called, sir."

Obi-Wan smiled almost gently. "And what did our Mand'alor have to say?"

"I doubt you would appreciate it if _I_ said it, sir," Cody said, a smirk on his lips as he looked his Master over. "It may make thinks awkward between us, and I'd hate for you to get the wrong idea."

Kenobi nodded and smoothed out his robes. Satine took precedence over the assignments of the Sith. After all, this was the only moment of rest he managed to get in weeks. He was going to take it before he ran back into the fray. After all, Umbara was said to be fiercely fought over. He'd have to bring his full might down upon the planet to rid it of the Republic to clear the way for his search for Maul. He beat him once before, but he would take no chances of distraction when he fought him again.

"Put me through to her," he quietly commanded, and Cody did as he was told, the datapad interfacing with the holoprojector in the room, and a moment later, the regal image of Satine appeared in the room. Obi-Wan bowed deeply. "Mand'alor Satine."

Her noble features melted into a warm smile, and Kenobi relaxed. She was alone. "I've been trying to reach you for some time, my love."

A playful smirk drifted across his face. "I never took you for the needy type."

Satine rolled her eyes. "Needy has nothing to do with it, your war is right on my doorstep. Death Watch has been holding them back so far, but we had to focus our attention around Mandalore. My sister needs more men to defend the rest of our territory."

"Then will it please my queen to know that I have secured her army?" Kenobi grinned to see the woman's eyes light up, her entire countenance brightening.

"When can you have them here?"

"The end of the week, at the latest. I'll have Cody run through their basic training while I investigate a situation on Umbara." He looked away and gathered his thoughts, thinking of the best way to tell the woman about his visions of their child, about how he could feel its presence in the Force, but the words caught in his throat when he looked up and saw Satine glaring at him. "W-what is it, what's wrong?"

"Did you happen to...investigate a situation on Devaron yesterday?"

Kenobi shook his head. "I was above Mon Cala yesterday securing _your_ army." That familiar pit in his stomach returned as the Force pulled at him in warning. Devaron had been home to a Jedi Temple before the war, and now served as a vital Republic outpost. Attacking it was seen as a recipe for disaster under the best of circumstances, and while Kenobi knew that it was possible to capture the Temple, he wouldn't have done it without being there to oversee the fight personally. There were too many things that could have gone wrong. "Why..." he asked cautiously. "What's happened on Devaron?"

Satine gave a secretive, knowing smile. "You really have been busy, haven't you? It's all over the holonet."

"Satine, don't think I'm above withholding your army from you.

She leaned back in her throne and crossed a slender leg over her knee and smiled easily. Satine had nothing to fear from Obi-Wan, and she knew it. "Apparently, there was a massacre at the Jedi Temple on the planet. The clones and the Jedi Master and the Padawan that held it are all dead." Her smile deepened at his shock. "I had assumed it was you. I can't think of anyone else who could accomplish such a thing, but frankly, that sort of butchery isn't your style."

"It wasn't me. Cody!"

"Already on it, my Lord," was the swift response as the clone ran to his side, datapad in hand, and held it up before the Sith. "This is the recorded data taken from the droids we had on the scene." Obi-Wan watched carefully, his golden eyes widening and his chest tightening when he saw a ferocious Zabrak brutally tear through dozens of clones, ending in a fight against a Jedi Master that was almost effortless in how easily the Jedi was slain. This wasn't just a Zabrak. This was a Nightbrother. _Maul_.

The rushing pulse of the Force screamed its warning deep within him, and he snatched the datapad from Cody's hands and watched it again. Than again. And then he began to calm as logic reasserted itself. It had been a very long time since Kenobi had seen Maul, but the Dathomiran Zabrak had not been nearly so tall as this hulking beast. This creature wasn't just a Nightbrother, this was a _monster_ , far bigger than any Nightbrother or Zabrak that he had ever seen, much more fierce than any male he had seen in the Nightbrother village. This one reminded him of his own Sithspawn creations, to an extent, and Kenobi couldn't help but wonder if this one had been somehow altered by the Dark Side. Regardless, this was a problem.

"You really are watching out for me, aren't you, Satine?"

The Duchess gave him a coy smile, and despite the tension in the Force, Obi-Wan could feel his heart pound with desire. "I do try for you, my Lord of the Sith. Is this the creature you said you were hunting?"

He shook his head. "No, it's not, but I feel like you've brought me closer than I've ever been to finding him. Cody, prepare the _Umbra_ for a trip to Serenno. I've got a feeling that this has something to do with Dooku's project." The clone saluted and rushed from the room, and Obi-Wan reached his hand out toward the hologram, the Duchess doing the same, and he smiled softly as his fingers brushed through the blue light of Satine's small, elegant hand. "The end of the week at the latest, I promise," he said softly, and she nodded. "I have something I need to discuss with you."

"I'm looking forward to it." Obi-Wan closed his eyes, steeling himself for what he must do, and he turned and left, the hologram flickering off and leaving the room in the soft red glow of the roiling lava rivers that flowed outside the windows.

* * *

Darth Lumis strode with purpose through the halls of Dooku's palace on Serenno. In his formative days as a Sith, he had spent a great deal of time there, and he knew every room, every corridor, like the back of his hand. He headed for Dooku's study, which was most likely where the Count would be, sitting behind his desk and plotting something or another. Dooku was always plotting, which Kenobi understood, but he would have respected the aging Sith Lord more if he actually executed his plans personally, instead of relying on assassins or apprentices or partners to carry things out for him. Obi-Wan appreciated a team effort, but if Dooku was unwilling to dirty his hands more than occasionally, than he was just _lazy_. The Count, truly, was getting old.

"Dooku!" the young Sith called when he entered the study, his voice echoing off the high ceilings, and his golden eyes flying not to the Count, who stood with his crimson lightsaber drawn, but at the creature that stood before him, tall and broad shouldered and monstrous with long, wicked cranial horns protruding from his green, tattooed head. In the beast's hands was held a double bladed red lightsaber, and for just a moment, Kenobi felt like the Jedi Padawan that once looked at a similar creature in the hangar of Theed Palace on Naboo. Kenobi took long, purposeful strides to cross the room, taking two steps at a time to mount the stairs to the elevated floor on which Dooku stood, and he planted himself right between the Count and the creature, arms folded over his chest and looking _very_ cross as the monster behind him softly growled.

"What is _that_?" Kenobi demanded, pointing over his shoulder at the hulking creature, and Dooku retracted his lightsaber, his face fixed in a scowl that Obi-Wan would describe as petulant.

" _That_ ," Dooku began pointedly, "is my new assassin."

"Ah. New apprentice, then?"

Dooku shrugged. "If you like."

Obi-Wan groaned and ran his hands over his face. "Oh, is three weeks all it takes for _everything_ to fall apart? I thought you were smarter than this! We were supposed to be in this together, what are you doing!"

Dooku turned his nose up in the air and looked down at the younger Sith. "I _told_ you that I would be increasing my security, and Jedi cut too easily through droids. I needed another assassin."

" _I_ was going to help protect you! We had a partnership, Dooku!"

"And you have been gone for _weeks_. Your job is more important than being my bodyguard, and furthermore, you are not mine to command." Dooku crossed his arms and glared down his nose, and Kenobi felt himself burn in a cold rage. "And when we rule the galaxy, I will need an apprentice, since you and I will be _equals_."

"You know, this is _exactly_ what brought our Master down on you and Ventress."

"Yes," Dooku agreed, nodding sagely. " _Years_ into her apprenticeship with me. Do you suspect it will take so long for us to kill him?"

It wouldn't. Now that his child sat within Satine, it was only a matter of time. They were a year away, maybe two, from the end of the Republic, the death of the Jedi, and the dawn of the Empire. "...no," he finally said, his voice low and dangerous, but the intonation was lost on Dooku, who seemed pleased that his point had been made.

"This," Dooku said proudly, sweeping his hand toward the silent Zabrak, "is Savage Opress. Savage." The creature stood up taller. "This is Darth Lumis, a Lord of the Sith."

Savage looked the smaller man over, observed his cruel, golden eyes, the young face that somehow seemed to bear the experience of one who was older than he appeared to be, and felt the dark, furious pulling of the Force within him. He did not look like much, but Lumis was exactly what Dooku had said. A Lord of the Sith. The massive lightsaber deactivated, and the Zabrak dropped to his knee and bowed his head. "Master..."

Kenobi's eyes narrowed. This was a Nightbrother, no question. He had some dealings with the Nightbrothers when he had been a Jedi, and compared to their wilful female counterparts, the males were downright docile, bred for subservience to the women that ruled the planet. This one seemed no different. Kenobi stood back and commanded the Nightbrother to rise, and the command was obediently followed. Obi-Wan walked around him, observing his towering height, the powerful muscles that covered his entire body, the power of the Force within him, and while it wasn't exceptional, it was far from lacking. "Have you heard of one of your kind by the name of Maul?" Kenobi asked quietly, and the Zabrak bowed his head.

"I do not know this name, Master."

He was telling the truth. All he could sense in him was blind obedience, but such a thing could be deceptive. The Jedi had learned that the hard way with Eeth Koth, who fervently believed everything that Obi-Wan had told him was truth, and Kenobi would not be caught in the same trap that he had once set for the Jedi. If Savage knew anything at all, it was gone, at least for now. "Where did you get him?" he asked Dooku quietly, and Kenobi's yellow eyes darted to the other Sith when he felt the Force grow tight with unease.

"He was given to me by Mother Talzin."

"... _what_."

"She reached out to me after you left," the Count calmly explained. "I have had dealings with her in the past, and she was useful to me then."

"Apprentice, _leave_." Savage looked to Dooku, and when his Master nodded, the Zabrak collected his lightsaber and left the room, Lumis and Tyranus staring at each other until they hear the door hiss open, and then close behind the Nightbrother. "Are you _out of your mind_ , Tyranus!" Kenobi hissed, his heart pounding in his chest and the Force roaring within him in panic as it considered what it meant to have the leader of the Nightsisters involved in this. "We decided that Nightsisters were the assassins sent to kill you! It's completely in the realm of possibility that not only Ventress, but _Talzin_ was directly involved with that!"

"We most certainly did not decide that," Dooku snapped, his voice unnecessarily harsh as he loomed over the smaller man. "I asserted from the beginning that they were _Jedi_. Talzin has no qualm with me, Kenobi, but she certainly does with _you_."

"Alright, _yes_ , that may be," Obi-Wan said slowly. "But that was before you tried to have Ventress killed!"

"I _did_ have Ventress killed."

"She isn't dead, Dooku!" Obi-Wan cried frantically. "There are _way_ too many coincidences here for all of this to not be related! You have Ventress killed, and we are attacked by assassins that look like Nightsisters, and then _Talzin_ contacts you to give you a new assassin!" He jabbed his finger into the Count's chest. "This is a trap."

Dooku scoffed and brushed the other Sith away. "We have nothing to fear from Mother Talzin, Kenobi," the Count said forcefully, walking down the small flight of stairs, Obi-Wan close on his heels. "We are Sith, and she is simply a primitive."

"A primitive that our own Master once considered a suitable apprentice."

"Until she found Maul, and a Jedi _Padawan_ killed him," Dooku said calmly, glancing sidelong at the younger Sith. "Let's assume you are correct for a moment, Obi-Wan. Let's assume this is a trap."

"It _is_ a trap!" Kenobi snapped, but Dooku held up a silencing hand.

"All this will do is bring Ventress to me. If she is responsible for the attack, than she will not stop until she sees me dead, and while my former apprentice is powerful, she is not _me_." He shrugged nonchalantly. "And if Talzin has betrayed me, she will be dealt with."

"How many wars do you want to fight, Dooku! It was a mistake to involve the Nightsisters in this. You already have one failed apprentice from Dathomir, why invite another in?"

"The male is more easily tamed, and the warriors produced there are exceptional. Ventress was a fine example of that."

"Dooku, listen to me, _please_ ," Obi-Wan begged, speeding up to block his path and putting a hand out to stop him. To his surprise, Dooku did stop. Kenobi took a deep breath to focus himself and quiet the screaming of the Force. "Talzin is against the _Sith_ , as an order, and with your betrayal of Ventress, she has a personal vendetta against all three of us. I don't think it's wise to provoke her. I think we need to stay far, _far_ away from Dathomir and all its children."

"Why, Darth Lumis," the Count said lightly, a slight chuckle in his voice that made Kenobi's hair stand on edge. "It almost sounds like you are _afraid_ of these Nightsisters."

"I'm not afraid of anything."

"Then _act_ like it." The Count's tone was firm, resolved, and it was clear that Dooku would hear no more of this. "Talzin, Savage, the Nightsisters, the entire cursed planet of Dathomir _will_ kneel before the Sith, as will the entire galaxy. And if they do not, well, the price of betrayal has become _very_ high as of late."

"I think this is a mistake," Kenobi said through grit teeth, but Dooku just laughed.

"Savage is obedient, powerful, ambitious, and steeped in the Dark Side. The promise of galactic power for a man like that will take priority above all else."

"But will he be _subservient_ to you?"

"He is already," Dooku said confidently. "After all, they were raised to follow a Master." Dooku's eyes narrowed and flashed a dangerous, pale shade of yellow. "And he is _mine_ , do you understand? If you touch him, or tamper with him the way you did with Ventress, there is suddenly a great deal that is yours that I can take from _you_."

Obi-Wan would have been furious if the Force weren't thrashing so hard, but as it was, he could barely keep the raging of the Dark Side contained. "This little alliance of ours has some problems to work out."

"I feel they will work out fine, so long as we agree not to touch what isn't ours."

Kenobi sighed and sidestepped out of the Count's way. "When this goes wrong, I expect an apology."

"When it doesn't, I expect you to be humbled."

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and turned away from Dooku as the elder Sith passed him by. Perhaps Dooku was right. The Sith had nothing to fear from Talzin or the other Nightsisters. If they were a threat, Sidious would have killed them a long time ago. But when he closed his eyes, all the Force would show him was the black and red face and hate-filled golden eyes of a man he had killed a long time ago.


	64. Umbara

"This," Anakin Skywalker said, pointing to the hologram of a sleek, arrow shaped ship with smooth, curved edges, "is an X-70B Phantom-class prototype that we pulled out of the Jedi archives. This ship was a prototype in the Sith Empire before it was destroyed." The Council murmured, and Anakin nearly rolled his eyes. He was angry, and he didn't want to be there, but dealings with the Sith had to be rushed through the Council first. He tapped a few things on the datapad, and another hologram floated alongside the previous ship, nearly identical in every way, but while the prototype had been a personal, single passenger craft, this new ship was _much_ bigger, containing an upper and lower deck, several cabins, and plenty of room for living space. Were the ship not so heavily armed, it would have appeared to be more luxury yacht than warship.

Anakin pointed to the image of the sleek black ship with red accents. "This is the _Umbra_ , the personal ship of Obi-Wan Kenobi. This is a custom made ship with a fully functional stealth drive, engines that can out-speed nearly anything we have, and an arsenal strong enough to down a heavy cruiser on its own, if it's in the hands of a talented pilot." Anakin's face fell. "Which, unfortunately, _it is_."

"How does this information help us?" Mace asked, the Master seeming to be just as bored as Anakin was. He wanted to get back out to the fighting just as much as Anakin did.

"This ship is one of a kind," Skywalker said, "which means that we can know it's him as soon as we see it. If it isn't cloaked." Anakin groaned loudly. "Which it often is..." He shook his head. "Look, even being able to identify this guy is a good start. That ship is allowing him to get places he has no business being. Like Kamino. Like...above Mon Cala where he can _steal our ships_."

The entire Council seemed to collectively groan. Anakin was personally involved in this. It wasn't Skywalker's _personal_ command ship, but being stranded on a world with no land after a Republic victory over the Separatists was humiliating for the young General, and it greatly diminished the sense of achievement he had felt. Anakin and his clones had to ask the local Mon Calamari for aid in returning to Coruscant, and young Skywalker would not soon forget what happened. Upon his return, he spent the entire day with Qui-Gon researching, and by the time he was through, he knew _everything_ about the _Umbra_ , and the more they knew about Obi-Wan, the better chance they had of beating him. Qui-Gon seemed to think that, like Anakin, Kenobi had a fondness for flying, and if the Sith Lord was at all similar to Skywalker, than that ship was far more than just a ship. It was a point of pride. A _weakness_.

"If we can destroy that ship of his, not only will we deprive him of a devastating weapon, but we're really, _really_ going to piss him off," Anakin said. "We've been spending this war treading _very_ carefully around this Sith Lord, and he's torn us apart for it." He took a deep breath and looked around the room. "I say we stop giving this Sith space and hit him where it hurts. You don't want to take his stuff, but I say we take it and see what happens. We hit his weak points, like he has done to us."

"This doesn't seem like the Jedi way," Master Plo Koon said, and Anakin crossed his arms.

"Masters, if we don't do what must be done, there isn't going to _be_ a Jedi way to protect! Obi-Wan and his Sith followers are going to take us apart. He's already started! We need to end this, and quickly." There was silence that followed, cold and uncomfortable as each contemplated what Anakin said, and under the oppressive weight of the Force, Quinlan Vos stood, a smirk on his lips.

"You going to kill him?"

"...that isn't the intent," Anakin said softly. "But if it comes to it, I will do what I must."

Vos nodded. "Alright, we have a plan then! You find that ship, I'll go to Mandalore and start poking around that girl of his."

"Master Vos, you can't-" Mace started, but was cut off by a sharp, quick laugh from the Kiffar.

"It'll just be a diplomatic mission, don't worry! I won't cause any trouble." Quinlan didn't wait for the input of any of the Masters. He just turned and left, walking out of the halls with a long, even stride. Defying the Council wasn't anything new for him, and they'd forgive him, like they always did. After all, the Masters trusted Quinlan Vos as a fellow Master. They weren't going to catch Obi-Wan. Kenobi would go down fighting, if he went down at all, and Quinlan seriously doubted that they had the power to do that. Not when Obi-Wan was fueled by the power of the Dark Side. Not when Quinlan had only barely tasted it, and was filled with power he never had before. Steeped in it, Kenobi must have been terrifyingly powerful.

He tried to resist, but it was becoming harder and harder to do so, especially when there was so much darkness all around them, especially when battles were made easier when he allowed anger to drive him forward, especially when victory was _guaranteed_ if he just reached out to the Dark Side and lightly touched it. So many lives were saved when he allowed himself to simply tap into that anger, that darker part of the Force. Every day, millions of lives were pointlessly claimed by the war, and all of it could end in a moment if the Jedi saw the bigger picture and, just for one simple moment, touched the Dark Side, filled themselves with the strength to destroy the Sith once and for all. They could do it. _He_ could do it. For all the dead, for all the murdered Jedi. For Eeth Koth, Shaak Ti, Saesee Tiin, for his Master, Tholme...

Fresh anger ran through him as he climbed into the Jedi starfighter, the R3 unit lowered into its place on the left wing beside the cockpit. His Master had died early in the war, but the wound was still fresh as if it had happened yesterday. How he died was suspicious at best. He had been shot several times, yes, but there had been signs of plasma burning. The droids in that particular battle were elite assassin droids, and they were equipt with plasma rounds, but it could just as easily have been from a lightsaber. The Jedi did not really investigate. They simply lacked the time to, but to Quinlan, it mattered, and it weighed on him. Like Qui-Gon, when he so long ago never knew how Obi-Wan supposedly died, Vos couldn't simply let it go, couldn't forget, couldn't heal, and the pain was leading him to hatred for the Separatists and the Sith that were responsible for all this pain.

He pressed the ship into the air and flew up and up until he broke through Coruscant's atmosphere, flying into one of the hyperspace rings that floated in neat lines in orbit, and the ship bolted forward as it jumped. Ahsoka would forgive him for leaving her behind. She hated diplomatic missions like these, preferring instead the action of the battlefield, and though she was actually at the Temple, so was her friend, Barriss Offee, which was a rare occurrence, and the Togruta had expressed a desire to spend time with the friend she missed. It was an ideal time to run off on this important mission. After all, he had no way to guarantee Ahsoka's safety, but Quinlan _knew_ he would be fine.

The Sith were the problem. The Sith had _always_ been the problem, and with the Dark Side, Quinlan could be strong enough to destroy them. He recognized the dangers, of course. He knew the Dark Side was a road best not traveled, but Quinlan had always walked the line, and now, he was falling. It wasn't far, and it wasn't fast, but he could tap the Dark Side at will now. He could be a Jedi still, even when he could hear the sweet whispers of the darkness in his mind, could feel its chill grasp upon him that constantly called for him to reach out and take its frigid hand. The Council's official position on the Sith at this moment was to allow the Sith to destroy themselves by _somehow_ spurring Obi-Wan against his Master. And now Quinlan was in a unique position to perhaps make that happen.

He had asked Obi-Wan for help, and he had meant it. His old friend walked with the Dark Side like it was a treasured companion. He had control and poise, and he may have been Sith, but there was nothing lost about Obi-Wan Kenobi. Deep within him, Quinlan could see his Jedi friend, could feel him inside the Sith Lord, and he felt that the Jedi plan may actually work. Together, he and Obi-Wan could fight the Sith. Together, they could destroy the Master that pulled the strings, they could destroy Dooku, who was responsible for every single death in this war, and with the menace to the galaxy dead, there war would be _over_. Two deaths to save countless billions. What did it matter if it took the Dark Side to do it? It would be worth it.

He needed a teacher. It was true that he had touched the Dark Side, used anger to fight harder and stronger than before, but he recognized that he was just scratching the surface of his potential. A Jedi couldn't teach him what he needed to know. He needed Obi-Wan. Quinlan had seen Kenobi struggle with control, had listened to him explain his plight, had understood and sympathized with his friend, and the next time he saw him, Obi-Wan was _focused_. The Jedi could barely sense it when his fingers moved through the Force, when his will was made manifest within its waters. Obi-Wan knew about touching the Dark Side, controlling it, using it without losing himself. He also knew what it meant to lose that vaulted control, to allow the Dark Side to consume him, and more importantly, Obi-Wan had found his way back from the brink.

Since he was a Padawan, Quinlan Vos had always stood straddling the line. His rare ability left him open and exposed to deep feelings and intense emotions, and it was this that allowed him such a capacity for understanding, but it also left him susceptible to darker things. Until recently, he had walked that fine line with the sure footing of a Jedi Master, but now...

He was a Jedi, just like he had always been, and sometimes, sacrifices needed to be made for the greater good. Obi-Wan would help him harness this power. Obi-Wan would help him achieve his full potential. Together, they would end the war. They would destroy the Sith. And finally, Kenobi could return home.

* * *

 

Umbara had left the Republic to join the Confederacy. As far as Obi-Wan was concerned, that should have been the end of the matter. The reasons for their succession was unclear, but it ultimately didn't matter. The Umbarans wanted nothing more to do with the Republic, so they had left, and the Republic responded with a full-scale invasion of the planet. Kenobi hadn't intended to get involved here. The war was running fine on its own without his involvement, but on the command of Darth Sidious, here he was. Kenobi had no idea why the fighting for the planet had been so intense, but he supposed it didn't matter. One way or another, it needed to end so he could find the source of the darkness that the Sith Master had sensed, and if it was Maul, eliminate him. That would be a difficult task to accomplish when there were a hundred thousand clones shooting at him.

Obi-Wan had run into several fights during the war thus far, and many of them ended in strategic losses in order to cover up his secret primary objectives, and while there was always a sense of satisfaction in manipulating the Jedi like that, he was tired of losing. This fight, he would win. This time, he brought his Sithspawn. The _Negotiator_ and the _Liberator_ covered their approach to Umbara from space, and the native Umbarans covered them as they landed in the capital city with hundreds of transports carrying droids, Kenobi's clones, and a thousand altered Korun and Twi'lek soldier slaves to the Dark Side. The Umbaran Shadow Warriors had been doing an admirable job at fighting back the might of the Republic, but with the aid of the Sith Lord, they could do far more than just hold the line.

The Umbaran military leadership welcomed Obi-Wan with a great deal of respect, and they promptly told the Sith their situation. Republic forces under the command of Jedi Master Pong Krell had recently taken control of a strategic airbase, and they were drawing ever closer, despite heavy losses to their clone forces. It was a major problem, and the hunt for Maul simply could not happen unless the Jedi was taken care of. Pong Krell was a fearsome warrior who once taught Obi-Wan how to fight with two weapons in hand, and while most Jedi did have some proficiency in the art of Jar'Kai, Kenobi knew Krell to be one of the only living Masters of the style. Not only that, but listening to the Umbarans made it clear that Krell was much more brutal than the other Jedi when it came to warfare, and that alone was reason enough to deal with the man. Obi-Wan was good, but it may have been a bit much even for him to deal with a former Sith Lord and a relentless Jedi Master at the same time.

He commanded Cody to work together with the Umbarans and listen to their plans, as they knew the land, its traps, its hiding places. After all, the goal wasn't simply the recapture of the airbase. It was the complete extermination of the Republic forces stationed there. The plan was simple. Surround the base, cut off their supply lines and their means of escape, and move in, and with the Umbaran knowledge of the misty swamps and shadowed terrain, this could be easily accomplished with the might of the Sith Lord's army. With the plan set, Obi-Wan mounted his armored rancor and set off with the army toward the Republic holdout.

Like all things Kenobi got involved with, the plan didn't exactly go off as they had intended. The Republic forces were far greater than the Unbarans had said, and not only were they swarming around the occupied airbase, but they had been scouting the swamps and trying to learn how to use the high-tech Umbaran ships as well. With a swift command to Cody to continue to lead his men to surround the airbase, Obi-Wan jumped off the rancor, activated his lightsaber, and charged toward the airbase with the Korun and the Twi'leks following closely behind him.

The Sithspawn swept through the battlefield like a plague, and having never faced such a foe before, the clone ranks began to break and fall under the furious onslaught. These weren't the droids they were used to fighting, nor were they anything like any other creature they had faced. These monsters thrived on fear, grew stronger with pain, and easily pierced through clone armor with spears tipped with vibroblades. Like the droids, the creatures seemed to move with a single mind, but unlike them, they were independently intelligent killers that weren't just ruthless and without mercy, but cruel as well.

With the aid of the Sithspawn and the three rancors that followed closely behind him, Kenobi cut a path up to the airbase and immediately set to disabling the ships that had the power to easily send the entire fight into chaos at the Republic's behalf, and with his Sith soldiers and his rancors drawing the majority of the attention, Obi-Wan made short work of the ships. He climbed up on one and looked at the single chair that sat on the ship's frame and he frowned. There was no wonder the clones hadn't taken to the air, these ships were unlike anything he had ever seen. There was no cockpit, no controls that he could see, and it was very likely that these were designed specifically for the technologically advanced Umbarans. Regardless, no chances could be taken, and he drove his lightsaber into the top of each and every ship, the ship's triangular loop-shaped wings trembling as the engine within was destroyed by the plasma blade.

He looked over the expanse of the landing pad, filled with hundreds of clones as they fought back the Sithspawn, the rancors, and now the Umbarans and the soldiers commanded by Cody, but Obi-Wan felt that something was... _wrong_. He closed his eyes, effortlessly deflecting blaster fire back at the clones who shot at him, and he felt the surging satisfaction of the Dark Side as it ravaged through and around him. There was a problem. On the battlefield were hundreds of clones as they died to defend their hold on Umbara. There was Cody, Shaak Ti's blue lightsaber in his hand and a blaster in the other, tearing through ranks of his brothers that opposed him. There were the rancors, mindlessly raging through _everything_ , be it clone or disabled ship or barricade. There were the Umbarans, ferociously fighting to rid their world of the invading army. There were the Sithspawn, charging forward heedless of their injuries so that they may tear into those that stood in their way. And still, through it all, something was missing.

Pong Krell was _nowhere_ to be found.

Kenobi's golden eyes drifted up to the command tower, tall and imposing over the airfield, and he leapt off the ship, his lightsaber blazing as he ran toward his rancor, effortlessly cutting down every clone in his way, deflecting stray laser beams as they flew toward him, his Sithspawn army fanning out before him and engaging the combatants that may have otherwise overwhelmed him. Using the Force to enhance his physical abilities, he jumped up on Yoda's back and ran up to grab the horns protruding from the shielded helmet over his large head. Using the Force to command the beast, the rancor turned, its clawed hands on the ground and its head lowered, and he charged full speed at the open hangar bay and rammed into the far wall with the full force of his considerable strength, and the wall buckled. With a roar of blind fury, the rancor tore at the battered wall, each strike causing it to bend further, until the steel finally gave way, splitting along one of its welded panels. The rancor reached its clawed hand into the gap and ripped it aside, and a moment later, Obi-Wan jumped off his place between the massive horns, and Sith Lord and rancor ran side by side through the command tower.

There weren't many clones inside, and those that were found themselves quickly struck down. Most of the clones were out on the airfield, fighting and dying against a much larger force, and those that tried to follow were held back by the rabid might of the Sithspawn. By the time Kenobi reached the top, there was no resistance, no stray clones left to fight, and still no Jedi Master. But there was the Dark Side, so thick in the air that Kenobi could feel it on his skin. There was no mistaking it. This was what Sidious had sensed, and this was why Kenobi was here. Closing his eyes and breathing in the Dark Side, he reached out and pulled the sealed door to the command room open, Yoda reaching his strong arms in and holding the straining doors while Obi-Wan stepped inside, leaving the massive white rancor to wait outside for him.

The doors slammed shut with a resounding, metallic clang, the mechanisms whirring as it sealed shut once again, and then all was peaceful. The Dark Side was thicker here than outside, and Obi-Wan closed his eyes, his lungs filling with it and his heart slowed to match the easy throb of the power around him. It was calm here, unlike the raging fury of the battle outside, and the peaceful, inky waters lapped at his being, drawn toward his natural pull as an undercurrent of power was slowly given life in its depths. The calm of the Dark Side perfectly concealed the power that lay just underneath the surface, and Obi-Wan felt in command of it all. This wasn't the violent storm he anticipated. Maul wasn't here. Instead, sitting in the middle of the large, circular room, was Pong Krell, one pair of hands resting on his lap and the other on his knees, his eyes closed in meditation and a pleased smirk upon his face. Obi-Wan relaxed the hand that held his lightsaber, but he did not switch it off. Caution was of the utmost importance, even when he knew _exactly_ what it was that he faced.

Krell opened his eyes, and they widened with surprise for just a moment, and then a delighted smile crossed his face as he rose to his staggering full height. "Obi-Wan!" he called in a deep, husky voice, and Kenobi raised his saber. The Besalisk simply chuckled. "It has been a long time, my friend. Red suits you."

"Hiding in a tower like a coward while I slaughter your men _doesn't_ suit you, Jedi." At that, Krell just laughed, and Obi-Wan couldn't keep the smile off his face as he extended his hand, calling the Jedi's two folded double sided hilts to him. Krell made no move to grab them. "I suppose this is the part where I get to ask you why you would kill your own men like this."

"Because I can," was his swift, brutal reply. "I could have asked you the same, long ago. The word is that your first murder was Master Sar Labooda." When Kenobi narrowed his eyes, the Force stirring with his confusion and the power that he was calling to himself, Krell laughed and put his four hands in the air in surrender. "Depa Billaba is awake. She told us what you told her about her sister. The word spread quickly."

"She recovered?" A sly smile tugged on his lips. "I'm truly impressed. I'll have to tell her so before I break her more permanently." He pointed his lightsaber at the center of Krell's chest. "On your knees, Jedi." He wordlessly did as he was commanded, and the Sith circled around him, the saber trained on the Besalisk as he reached through the Force and found...excitement? Deep, pure satisfaction, none of the resignation or calm that came to be expected from a surrendering Jedi.

"I'm no longer naive enough to be a Jedi," Krell growled after a long, tense silence, and the Sith just chuckled.

"I understand the feeling."

"I know you do, Obi-Wan," he said quickly, his head snapping around to watch as Kenobi slowly circled, taking him in, feeling him through the Force, and though Pong had his defenses up, he still felt the Sith Lord's raking touch in his mind. "You were so far ahead of us all. A new power is rising. I have foreseen it."

At this, Obi-Wan stopped, and he could feel the Force gather around him, not in pulling, frantic warning, as it had been so quick to do as of late, but in interest. For once, the Force was still, silent, watching. "Explain," Obi-Wan whispered, his voice barely audible over the humming of his lightsaber, and the Besalisk lowered his head.

"The Jedi are going to lose this war, and the Republic is going to be ripped to pieces from the inside! In its place is going to rise a new order, and I will rule as part of it!"

That settled the matter completely. Krell was too dangerous to allow him to return to the Jedi, but worse than that was how accurate his vision had been, and if one Jedi could predict the future, what was keeping others from somehow doing the same? Sidious had been right to send him to Umbara, even if it wasn't for the reason they had intended. The Force had other plans, and it clearly favored the Sith if it would lead him to this fallen Jedi. And Pong Krell was _fallen_. Even further gone than Kenobi had been himself when he embraced the Sith. Up until the end, Obi-Wan had wanted to destroy the Sith, use the Dark Side to fuel his powers to assist him in what must be done, but Pong Krell had no such delusions. He wanted power, pure and simple, and he had embraced the Dark Side for it. All that remained now was to decide what to do with this Dark Jedi.

"When did you begin having these visions?" he asked softly, and the Besalisk looked away, the crest on his head lowering as he thought.

"Maybe half a year ago," he grumbled, looking back to the Sith. "The other Jedi don't see it, but I do!"

"Have you told anyone?" Krell shook his head.

"They would not believe me if I did. I remember what they did to you. And I have not been back to the Temple for a _very_ long time. Tell me, Kenobi," he growled softly, shifting on his knees so he could turn to face the Sith that stood behind him, "if you had a chance for power, would you tell the ones that would deny it to you?"

"No," was his swift, immediate answer. "Our motivations were different, but you and I embraced the Dark Side for power."

" _Yes_!" He placed his four hands on the ground and scrambled to the feet of the Sith Lord, the red, thrumming blade mere inches from his neck. "I serve no side but my own, and soon...my new Master!" Kenobi looked down at this former Jedi and felt the Dark Side thrashing inside him, not in fear, but in eager submission.

"Was this your plan, Krell?" Kenobi asked, and the large man seemed to shiver in excitement.

"After I succeeded in driving the Republic from Umbara, I suspected that I would have gotten Count Dooku's attention." He grinned deviously. "I didn't think I'd get _your_ attention, though."

"And what did you expect would happen? The Sith don't take well to Jedi."

"But they took well to you." Obi-Wan laughed, deactivating his saber and shaking his head as he turned from the Besalisk and walked toward the large glass window overlooking the airfield, the red and blue of blaster fire still flying as the last of the clones made a final stand. "I heard Dooku lost his last apprentice," Krell said as he rose, slowly coming to stand beside Kenobi at the window. The Sith barely acknowledged that the Jedi had moved at all. "And nobody has ever said that _you_ have an apprentice."

"I am an apprentice myself, what need have I for a student..." He could feel desperation and disappointment from the Besalisk, but through it all was a lust for power and a willingness to get what he wanted. It would make him willful, yes, but a Sith that wasn't difficult to tame wasn't worthy of being Sith. "And I'm afraid you missed your very small window of opportunity. Dooku has already replaced Ventress with a man nearly as big as you."

Kenobi smirked when he felt the Dark Side swell, the cool embers stoked to an absolute inferno of rage and unchecked ambition. In Krell's pale yellow eyes, Obi-Wan could see murder, pure and wrathful, and within this fallen Jedi, he saw the solution to one of his many complications. "I can kill him!" Krell snarled, his voice warped and vicious, and he suddenly dropped to his knees, forced to kneel before the Sith Lord with the gentlest press of the Force upon him. The Dark Side within Obi-Wan Kenobi had always been hidden, and it was to the Jedi Order's constant frustration that they could not feel him within the Force, but now, Pong Krell could see it.

His own anger and ambition that fueled the Dark Side within him had always felt like a blaze of power and strength, overwhelming and untamable, but now that Krell could see within the infinite well of darkness that was Obi-Wan Kenobi, his own enhanced power seemed... _insignificant_ , as nothing before the might of the Dark Side that this Lord of the Sith commanded. He was a single drop in the raging tempest that he knew Kenobi could command, and while it may make others feel small, it made Krell understand that all that power could be his if he was bold enough to take it. He had _so_ much to learn.

"Master, _please_ ," Krell said frantically, kneeling lower and looking up at the Sith that was gazing out of the window with disinterest. "If you won't take me, allow me to kill this other apprentice! I have killed before, it would be my absolute _delight_ to kill this pretender if it means I would be trained!"

"I believe you..." Obi-Wan said, his voice distant as he watched a blue lightsaber down below cut through a clone and rush toward the command tower. The blaster fire had stopped. "I know you are powerful, but the creature that serves Dooku had been raised in darkness, and you are only just discovering it."

Krell scoffed. "I have embraced the Dark Side! I have done so for _months_!"

"As I said," Kenobi snapped, "you are only just discovering it. You may have used the Dark Side to kill a few clones, you may have led an entire battalion to its death today, but that just makes you a butcher, _not_ a Sith. This apprentice of Dooku is wild, untamed, out of control, and _very_ powerful. You'll need to harness power worthy of a Sith Lord to beat him."

"Teach me..." Krell pleaded, his begging stopped when the door hissed open and a clone ran in, a blue lightsaber clutched in his hand. Krell jumped to his feet, snarling viciously until Kenobi walked calmly to the clone. The lightsaber was deactivated, and clipped next to his blaster at his hip, and he saluted.

"Sir. The Republic forces have been defeated. Umbara is ours."

"Defeated," Obi-Wan said softly, "but not killed."

Cody shifted his weight back and forth, his eyes trained on the hulking Jedi by the window. "We captured a fair number of them. They were trapped in the barracks and surrendered as soon as we broke in. I told the troops to hold their fire, since you appreciate survivors."

A long finger tapped his chin as he thought. "How many?"

"Nearly two hundred, sir."

Kenobi whistled. "Call the shuttle and get them on board the _Negotiator_. If they resist, execute them."

"As you command."

"Have our transports come for immediate pickup, I want to be out of here by evening. The _Umbra_ is still in the capital. I want you to get it and bring it back here." Cody nodded, but didn't move. "That will be all, Cody," Obi-Wan said insistently, but the clone didn't move, his eyes fixed on Krell.

"And the Jedi?" he asked, his voice a dangerous whisper, and Kenobi looked back at the Besalisk.

"There are no Jedi here, Cody." That was enough. The clone saluted and turned to leave, the door sliding open, and Obi-Wan got a glimpse of Yoda's shielded face looking through the door that was far too small for him before it closed. Kenobi smiled and turned back to Krell, delighting in the eager, submissive swell of the Dark Side within the Besalisk. "I'll do what I can to prepare you to become Dooku's apprentice, my old friend," Obi-Wan drawled, calling the discarded Jedi's weapon's to his hands and attaching them next to his own on his belt. Again, the Jedi knelt.

"Thank you, Master," he said softly, respectfully, looking up to meet the golden gaze of the Sith. "How long will it take?"

"For our purposes? Not long. It doesn't take much to see the full depths of the Dark Side, and it will take you less than most." Kenobi shrugged. "A week, perhaps. But to see it is _far_ different from _knowing_ it, and that will take you many years. Walking beside the darkness is no easy feat."

"I will learn," Krell insisted, enthusiastic and excited and filled with the lust for the power promised to him, and Kenobi couldn't help but laugh.

"I do hope you manage to keep that enthusiasm. Your first lesson begins now."

Krell felt it before he saw it. The intense pain of the full wrath of the Dark Side upon him, not in his mind, but in his body as blue bolts of lightning struck him, danced over his skin and left searing, burning black marks upon him. After that, the pain had blinded him to nothing but writhing agony upon the floor, his large, thick hands clawing at the ground but finding no purchase, his back arching as the electricity forced every muscle in his body to tense, every nerve to catch fire, and he could hear distant screaming, unrelenting and agonized, and only after a while realized it was his own.

It stopped when he thought his heart would burst, and he slowly opened his eyes as he lay there panting and gasping for breath. Before him were two fine black boots, and he looked up to see Obi-Wan squatting before him, looking at him with golden eyes that blazed, but were not unkind. "Lesson one," the Sith said softly. "This is _really_ going to hurt."


	65. The Student

Obi-Wan sat on the floor with Satine in his lap, his arm around her shoulders and his hand brushing back her pale blond hair as she leaned shaking over a basin. She was _sick_ , and had been for the better part of an hour. The child, from the look of it, was a frightful beast, just over a month since its conception and already with a strong, steady presence in the Force with an intention to wreck havoc upon the hapless mother. The physician hadn't done the necessary blood work yet, but Satine didn't need it to know for certain that her lover's child was planted firmly inside her. She was handling it with as much poise and grace as she could muster, but it was admittedly difficult to do so while retching. If it got any worse, she'd have to instill Bo-Katan to sit the throne while she was ill. Obi-Wan certainly couldn't do it. Between his duties to the Sith and his obligations to the Separatists, there left little room to aid in the ruling of Mandalore. Besides, he was getting sympathetically sick with her, a symptom of his powerful connection to the Mandalorian and the Forceful embryo. The child was not content to make just one parent suffer.

"Did I tell you," Obi-Wan said softly in her ear, "that I felt it in the Force when the little Sith Spawn took hold?" Satine shook her head, but said nothing, and he held her closer. "I did. The Force has been giving me visions as well. Nothing much, but I see it."

"You were too busy to warn me?" she asked, her voice shaking, but amused, and he planted a kiss on her cheek.

"Really, my love, I have barely slept with all the work I have had to do. It took careful planning to secure the acquisition of your army."

Satine slowly sat up, taking in a shaky breath and stilling the tremors that ran through her. Smiling, she cupped his bearded cheek. "And for that, I am _eternally_ grateful. Was Bo-Katan pleased?"

"For once, she didn't look like she wanted to kill me. I think she's finally starting to like me."

"She _really_ wanted that army, Obi."

"I got it for _you_ , Satine. Not her." The Duchess paled and grabbed hold of the edge of the basin once again, and Kenobi swept his hand through her hair, biting his tongue against the rush of nausea that he felt as well.

"How many Sith Lords are needed for the Empire?" Satine choked, leaning back against Obi-Wan and gratefully taking the glass of water he handed her. He shrugged.

"A hundred. _Hundreds_ , maybe." He could almost feel her roll her eyes, and he gently rubbed her temples, the brush of the Force in his fingers, and he felt her relax against him, felt the soft pulse from within her calm to a smooth, even hum.

"But how many will _I_ be required to produce?"

"You are not _required_ to produce any, my love," he drawled as he pulled her close. "But since you asked...thirty."

"...thirty." She sighed when she could feel the Sith chuckling behind her. The nausea had nearly passed, and she braced herself against his knees and pushed herself up and smoothed out the flowing blue of the dress she wore. "Or we could just have this child and see what happens after, Emperor Kenobi."

Obi-Wan took her hand and pulled her close, kneeling before her and his arm wrapping around the small of her back as he kissed her stomach. "Best idea yet, my Queen." They didn't hear the footsteps of the intruder into Satine's room until the door hissed open and a woman in Mandalorian armor stepped inside the large, tiled room. With a groan, the woman removed her helmet and shook out her shoulder-length red hair, and if a look could kill, Obi-Wan would be slain on the spot. Satine didn't seem bothered by the intrusion. "You know..." Obi-Wan drawled when it looked as though the redhead would speak. "I have a friend like you. _He_ doesn't knock either."

She crossed her arms and scowled. "Really. Does this friend of yours also want you dead?"

" _Actually_ -"

"Don't answer that, I'm not here for you, _Jedi_." Kenobi rolled his eyes.

"If you want to insult me, I'll just take my army back."

The woman smiled back at him with immense satisfaction. "Go ahead. See how long it will take you to get between my sister's legs again."

" _Bo_!" Satine snapped, and the redhead bit her lip and looked away. She wasn't embarrassed, she was angry, and not with her imperious sister. Obi-Wan allowed himself to smile at the woman as he stood, taking Satine's hand and kissing it gently, but she quickly snatched it away and hissed, "Don't you suck up to me, Sith Lord, you started this!"

Kenobi shrugged sheepishly, his golden eyes drifting to the redhead, and he could _feel_ her satisfied glare. Bo-Katan Kryze had a long, difficult, and complicated relationship with her sister. The younger Bo-Katan had always fared poorly in comparisons between herself and Satine. Where the elder Kryze had been classically beautiful with the pale blond hair, light blue eyes, and fine, elegant features that were so highly sought after on Mandalore, Bo-Katan had somehow managed to get everything wrong. Red of hair and green of eye, the younger Kryze looked like she had come from different stock entirely. She was the furthest thing from unattractive, but when placed next to her sister, the attention went to the refined beauty, not the rough and rowdy troublemaker.

With contrasting looks came contrasting personalities, and Bo-Katan was more at home in armor than the refined gowns that came with her noble birth, and where war had made Satine fervently opposed to violence, it had made Bo fervently violent, going so far as to run away to Concordia with the exiled rebels when Satine came to power and join the Death Watch that stood in opposition to her peaceful reign. And her relationship with Obi-Wan Kenobi was... _complicated_. She blamed the Jedi he had been for installing a pacifist on the throne of Mandalore. But then, she also gave the Sith Lord he was credit for the change in Satine that transformed her from Duchess to Mand'alor. A more practical mind set had repaired the relationship between the two sisters, and Bo-Katan's fierce warrior spirit expanded to bring gentle Satine under her fierce protection.

Kenobi and the younger Kryze liked each other far, far more than they were willing to admit, mostly because Bo-Katan had felt obligated to object to the man that had taken her sister's virginity, since their father had not been around to do so, and the woman was far too enjoyable for Kenobi to tease. True, when Kenobi had stormed the Death Watch compound, he had choked her, tortured her, made her watch in horror as he brought Pre Vizsla screaming to his knees, took away everything that made him Mandalorian...but she respected that. It ended up being what was best for Mandalore.

Her green eyes darted about the room, taking in her surroundings as if she was just realizing where she was, and after a moment, she gasped, her hands flying to cover her mouth in sudden realization, the implications of her surroundings and her suspicions clear. " _Satine_!"

"Not a word, Bo," Satine said harshly, her hand in the air to silence her, and the word was final. She crossed her arms over her chest. "What is so important that you need to barge in here like this?"

Bo-Katan stood with her head held high. "My men have caught a Jedi."

Obi-Wan felt his heart stop and his breath catch, but the Force felt...calm. Nothing was wrong or threatening, so...what was it? "Where was this Jedi caught?" Satine demanded.

"Just outside the palace. He says he was invited here."

" _Invited_?!" Satine stormed out of the room without another word, and Obi-Wan and Bo-Katan followed the woman side by side, falling into perfect step with each other. The Death Watch leader covertly jabbed Kenobi in the ribs with her elbow, and he gasped in pain and slowed, clutching his side. Smirking, she slowed to match his pace, grinning widely when the yellow eyes narrowed at her in anger.

"She's mad at you," she whispered, her voice a sing-song cadence that made the Sith Lord wince.

"She most certainly is not, she's mad there's a _Jedi_ here. Have you ever killed one before?"

"No, but I suspect that may be happening _very_ soon." The Sith next to her chuckled deeply, and she brought her elbow into his side again, this time a gentle nudge. "Did you put a child in my sister?" She frowned when the Sith Lord's chest swelled with pride, a cocky grin on his lips. "I feel like I'm obligated to be angry about this, but..." She took a deep breath and lowered her voice. "You raise that child to be Mand'alor. We are finally united. We cannot lose that when Satine is too old to rule."

"...I will." Kenobi looked away from her and smiled to himself, quickening his pace to come closer to Satine as she quickly made her way down the halls. Approval from Bo-Katan was a rare thing. He doubted he'd ever have it spoken again.

Satine stormed into the throne room and furiously dropped into her seat, and every soldier in the hall snapped to attention and bowed deeply at the angry woman, and remained with their heads bowed as Obi-Wan and Bo-Katan strode to stand on either side of her throne. "What is this I hear about a Jedi?" the Mand'alor snapped, and two soldiers came forward to throw their prisoner at the base of the steps leading up to the throne. Kenobi leaned forward, golden eyes narrowed, as he looked upon the yellow band tattoo across the face of the prisoner that he knew all too well.

"Quinlan Vos..." the Sith lazily drawled as he casually left the side of the throne and walked down the steps. "I didn't think you'd _actually_ come."

The Jedi looked up, a smirk on his lips, and he shrugged against his bindings. "I didn't think I would either..." He could feel Satine's eyes narrowing on him, and he avoided the intense gaze of Mandalore's ruler.

"You know this Jedi, Obi-Wan?" she demanded, and the Sith nodded.

"I do. And I _did_ invite him." There was a long moment of silence and tension in the room as Satine looked the Jedi over, and she scoffed, flicking her hand in dismissal, and the guards rushed to surround the Jedi, and released him. Quinlan rubbed his wrists, looking up at the icy queen, who was clearly none too happy about having Jedi on her planet, but Kenobi just smiled at his friend, turned to the Mand'alor and bowed deeply. "Thank you, your Highness. He will remain in my custody in his time here."

"See that he does, Lord Kenobi, and see that his departure is swift." The Sith flashed a cocky grin at Quinlan, indicated with his head toward an open door on the right side of the hall, and slowly sauntered off. Groaning as he rose to his feet, Vos quickly followed the Sith until he strode slowly and silently beside him.

For a long while, they said nothing, and Quinlan was extremely uncomfortable. Now that he was here, he had no idea what to say, or how to say it, or where to begin. He couldn't just tell Obi-Wan his plans, tell him how he planned to destroy the Sith, and how he needed help to do it. It was...absurd. Why had he even come here? He looked around as the halls gave way to courtyards, peaceful expanses of gardens in the sunlight and slowly flowing streams that ran through them. It was...peaceful. Beautiful. As Kenobi had said, neutral Mandalore was free from war and the oppressive pull of darkness that burned like fire within the Force. The Dark Side was still here, but it was... _restful_.

They stopped, and Kenobi leaned over a rail, closing his eyes and breathing deep of the fresh air, and Quinlan couldn't help but whisper, "Teach me."

"You wanted this over a month ago, Quin," the Sith said quietly. "What took you so long to come to me?"

"...I had to think about it." Vos took a deep breath and leaned against the pillar that supported the rail, his arms crossed over his chest. "But I did. And there's so much I can do with the Dark Side. There's so much I can accomplish! This war needs to end, Obi-Wan, and the Jedi aren't able to do it."

Kenobi nodded. "I agree. And tell me, Quinlan, what have you done with this Dark Side of yours?"

"I've won battles. Countless of them, all because I've tapped into my anger. I was afraid to do it before, but now..." He laughed nervously, uncertain how to give words to the turbulent Force within him. "Now it's so easy."

Kenobi nodded. "It is. It sounds like you can touch the Dark Side at will now. Can you show me?"

"W-what, right now?" Quinlan laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't know, Obi-Wan, there's nothing to get angry about. I do it in battle when my clones are dying, but..." He shrugged. "It's in the moment. I let go afterwards."

"How Jedi of you," Kenobi said playfully, drumming his fingers on the rail and looking up into Quinlan's dark, trusting eyes. "Think of your Master." Obi-Wan allowed a small, wicked smile to cross his face when the Jedi tensed, the calm and gentle Force within him suddenly howling with fury as anger and rage reached its dark tendrils inside Vos. He was powerful, yes, but it was precious and fleeting, and despite its efforts, the Dark Side had little to latch on to within the Jedi. Quinlan was used to walking the line between light and dark. It would take more to make him truly fall than a simple embrace of anger, but the process had already begun. It would just be slow, gradual, like his own fall.

And then, it was gone, as suddenly as it came, the Jedi's hands clasped tightly around the rail, his arms shaking as the darkness left him, and when he looked at Obi-Wan, there was a cocky smile on his lips. "See?" the Kiffar said softly, and Kenobi scoffed.

"You think a slight show of temper means you touch the Dark Side?" Quinlan stared at his friend in confusion. It wasn't the response he had been expecting. He didn't know what to expect, but part of him had hoped that Obi-Wan would have been impressed. "Typical of you, Quinlan, to flirt with the Dark Side like that," Kenobi drawled, a casual smile on his face. "Anyone can flirt. Most Jedi do. Even your vaulted Mace Windu calls the darkness when he fights, but a passing glance will yield you nothing in the end."

Quinlan smirked and leaned in toward the Sith Lord. "I'm _very_ good at flirting," he drawled, and Kenobi laughed, put a hand on his face and shoved him away, and for just a moment, it felt like they used to be, long before this war began, long before Obi-Wan joined the Sith he swore to destroy. It was... _painful_. Quinlan wanted this again, he wanted his friend back. "Obi-Wan," he said in a voice that was barely a whisper and strained in sadness. "Please, I want you to come back."

"What, to the Jedi?" he asked, genuine surprise on his face that made Vos' heart sink. "Are you mad? The Jedi would execute me in a heartbeat if I did."

"Not if you came back willingly!" the Kiffar pleaded. "It's never too late, you can turn away from the Dark Side!"

"Really," Kenobi said, his voice flat and expressionless and completely unimpressed. "Can you?" Kenobi sighed and closed his eyes. "Look, Quin, you came to me to ask for training in controlling the Dark Side because you know as well as I that there's no coming back from it. All you can do is learn how to control it, which is why you're here. You crave the Dark Side, and you want to command it. _Why_."

For a moment, all Quinlan could do was stare at the Sith, look at the golden eyes he remembered as brilliant blue, the harsh lines of a face that used to be warm and gentle, the forceful, commanding presence that was once unassuming and modest. He didn't feel any hatred or contempt for the Sith Lord. He just felt... _kinship_. He was there as Obi-Wan fell, though he did not know it at the time, had felt his emotions through his old lightsaber, and he _understood._ "This war must end," he said slowly. "I can end it."

"And how do you propose to do that?"

Quinlan took a deep breath. "Without Dooku, there would be no war. Every single innocent that dies because of this idiot conflict can be laid at Count Dooku's feet. He is responsible for _all_ of them." Quinlan's face darkened as he felt rage boil within him. "He needs to die. We need to kill them. To stop this war, Dooku needs to die, and he needs to die quickly, because each day we wait brings more death to the innocent."

"You _do_ realize I am on Dooku's side, right?" The expression on Quinlan's face said it all. There was resignation, betrayal, acceptance and anger within him, all conflicting, all warring, and Obi-Wan couldn't help but feel a twinge of sympathy for his old friend. He too had struggled with the raging emotions of the Dark Side when he began to fall. The transition was always messy. Quinlan knew what Obi-Wan was. He was just hoping it wasn't true, even after all this time.

"I thought," the Kiffar said slowly, "that the Sith were only ever out for themselves." Obi-Wan laughed at that.

"Since when have the Jedi ever known anything about the Sith?"

"Since _you_ , Obi-Wan." The Sith was silent, carefully observing the frustrated Jedi before him. "Maybe the Council wasn't listening to you, but I was. I _always_ was, and I always believed that you were right. You were right about the Sith, you were right about Dooku, you were right about it all. And if you and I are together again, you and I can kill Dooku and your Master and end this war!"

Was _this_ the Jedi's plan? Were the Masters in their tower so confounded, so unable to do what they certainly knew must be done that they were content to let Sith ambition run its course? Quinlan had come on his own, that much he knew, but were his actions something that the Jedi would condone or condemn? Quinlan Vos was not like Pong Krell, who fell for a lust for power, who willingly now sat in the confines of the _Negotiator_ , deprived of food and sleep and tenderly cared for by the gentle hands of Cody as the clone gleefully oversaw his torture. Vos cared nothing for power like Krell, had suffered no betrayals like Obi-Wan, so _why_ was he falling? This needed a gentle hand, the right moments, the right ideas, or Vos would go no further down the darker path.

"You reach for darkness to destroy the Sith?" Kenobi ventured carefully, and Vos nodded.

"We all know how to end the war. All of us. But the Jedi are hesitant to do what needs to be done to end it. We need to kill Dooku, it's just that simple." The Kiffar growled in frustration, his hand tightening on the rail. "The Masters say such thoughts aren't the Jedi way, that it's the path to darkness, but we all know that someone will need to do it, or this war will never end. It's a bottomless pit, and if Dooku dies, the war dies with him, and the Jedi can go back to really helping people again."

"You have discussed it, then?" Quinlan nodded gravely.

"We have. But we're just...not ready to seriously consider those thoughts." Obi-Wan smiled, felt the small, thin tendril of darkness within his friend and grabbed hold of it. _This_ is how it would begin.

"But _you_ are." Vos looked away from his old friend, and Obi-Wan could feel the struggle within him, the endless compassion of a Jedi Master pushed to its limits as he was forced to watch, forced to _feel_ millions upon millions of innocents suffer and die in a war that seemed to have no end. Perhaps the other Jedi Masters had not reached their limit, but Quinlan Vos was desperate. Slowly, he nodded, and Obi-Wan laid an understanding hand on his shoulder. "Shall we begin your first lesson?"

Quinlan's tense body relaxed as he sighed with relief. "Teach me."

"If you want to beat Dooku, you're going to have to abandon nearly everything it means to be a Jedi," Obi-Wan said swiftly, his easy, nonchalant manner making Quinlan recoil slightly. "Dooku is a Lord of the Sith, and he didn't become so by being weak. He is brutal, calculating, cruel, and entirely merciless. You Jedi will hesitate to kill, but Dooku will not. The Sith know that the path of hatred is the path to ultimate power, and you will need it if you are to end him." Kenobi smirked. "But you have plenty of hatred in you already, don't you?"

"I showed you, didn't I?" Quinlan scoffed, and Obi-Wan could sense the darkness within him swelling, the memory of his old Master fresh and painful within him.

"You did. You can touch the Dark Side at will, yes, but it's one thing to feel hatred and rage, and quite another thing to use them."

"But I have!" Quinlan cried, the small beat of darkness within him pulsing as his temper flared. "I've won countless victories in this war because I used the Dark Side! I beat General Grievous on Kamino, I crushed a droid army on Pantora, I-" A dismissive wave of the Sith's hand silenced Vos.

"Droids," Kenobi scoffed. "You Jedi cut through droids like it's nothing because it _is_ nothing. They are machines, no heart beats within them, they have no blood, no life, no soul, no presence in the Force. You don't feel their destruction in the Force, you don't mourn the loss of life because there is no life to be lost."

"But _Grievous_ -"

"Is he dead?" Quinlan's jaw tightened as he looked at the cold, uncaring face of his friend. "And you could have killed him. You could have ended the General in an instant if you hadn't let him go, if you hadn't allowed compassion to drive the darkness from you." Obi-Wan chuckled deeply. "No, Quinlan, to defeat Dooku, you're going to need something more. You will need to grab hold of the darkness and truly embrace it, or you won't have the power you need to destroy him." He smirked, tapping his finger on the railing and looking out into the garden, so bright and peaceful, and it seemed an odd place to discuss such dark things. Quinlan laughed softly, tense and nervous.

"The quick and easy path to power, right?"

"The _only_ path to power. But you must be cautious about how far down that path you walk. Once you tap into the Dark Side, _really_ tap into it, not the grazing touches you have been so eager to call true darkness, it can consume you."

"Like what happened to you, right?"

"Just so." He shrugged, smirking. "The trick is to master it, not allow it to master you. You want to be able to stand in the flames, not burn with it."

Quinlan grinned, bouncing on the balls of his feet, and Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. Vos was hopelessly naive, but it would aid in his fall. "You were consumed by it, and you came back from it."

"Did I?" The response was cold, hard, devoid of emotion, and Quinlan couldn't help but shiver. He _knew_ Obi-Wan was drenched in darkness. He could feel it inside him, could see it blazing in his golden eyes, but... _well_ , he didn't _feel_ consumed. He wasn't running around uncontrollably murdering people, and he had been perfectly behaved on Coruscant, so much so that he hadn't so much as _touched_ the Dark Side. Obi-Wan was in control. He had _mastered_ the Dark Side, which the Jedi had said wasn't possible. Kenobi was steeped in darkness, yes, but he had been barely a Knight when he fell. Quinlan was a Jedi _Master_ , with all the training and power that came from being one. He wouldn't be lost as Obi-Wan had.

"Teach me," Quinlan asked again. "I want to learn how to have mastery over it, teach me how to keep from getting consumed." The Sith Lord just chuckled and shook his head, and Quinlan could feel anger slowly growing inside him.

"Oh no, Quin, you aren't ready for that yet. You haven't even really grabbed hold of the Dark Side, I can't teach you to control what you have no knowledge of."

"B-but I-"

"Have used anger to fuel you, yes, yes, I know, Quin, but you haven't truly _used_ the Dark Side." There was a sinister delight in those golden eyes, a deep, consuming hunger that the Jedi felt himself recoil from even as he was drawn in to it. "That is going to be your first challenge. Your first test, if you will, and if you can't do this thing, you better find another Jedi to kill Dooku, because you will never be able to." Quinlan felt his mouth dry just as he was about to ask what this challenge was, but he already knew, the Sith Lord smiling in grim satisfaction when he felt the Jedi realize what must be done.

"I-I need to use it on a living creature."

"Precisely." Obi-Wan sensed the Jedi's hesitation, as he knew he would. It had been difficult for him as well, when he understood exactly what it was that the darkness had required of him, but by the time Darth Sidious appeared to him, he was ready and willing to murder at a command. Quinlan Vos would be as well. If he pressed too hard, he risked driving him away, but the Dark Side was patient, and Kenobi had already planted the idea. It would grow on its own.

"It just seems so... _senseless_ ," Vos said softly, shaking his head, but the Sith simply relaxed against the railing, calm and peaceful and almost serene in the darkness he swam in.

"And that sentiment will get you killed when you face him. You are not yet ready. You need to put aside your compassion, embrace your anger and grab hold of the Dark Side. Use it to kill, _really_ kill, and you will be ready."

"...the Jedi take their strength from others," the Kiffar said, scooting closer to his friend. "Can I do this alone?"

"...no."

Quinlan smiled brightly. "Then you will help me. We'll kill Dooku _together_!" The Jedi's smile faded when Kenobi began laughing, not the warm, soft one that he had grown so used to, but a cold, harsh sound that sent a chill up his spine. "Quin, I have had _many_ chances to kill Dooku, and I haven't yet. And I _won't_. We have a plan to end the war, and it won't be the Jedi way."

"B-but..." Vos was beginning to panic. His whole plan rested on getting Obi-Wan to turn on the Sith, to join their strength together to accomplish that which the Sith did best. After all, there was a reason that the greatest enemy of the Sith were each other. They harnessed the power of the Dark Side to give them the strength needed to bring each other down, and they had perfected it to such an art that they had been the cause of their own extinction, had built an entire Code around the idea of murdering their Masters. But all that came out of this talk was the resolve to embrace the Dark Side in order to do what a Jedi alone could not. He wasn't expecting Sith _solidarity_.

"I am _Sith_ , Quinlan," Kenobi said smoothly, his voice soft and amused. "What did you expect me to be? Did you really think I'd turn on my own kind?"

"Y-you said I need help to kill him, you said I can't do it alone."

"And you can't" Kenobi said, nodding sagely. "You do need help. Because _I_ will be there, and I look forward to seeing who you bring with you, truly, I do."

"But you said you would _help_ me!"

"And I most certainly will! You are welcome to come to me any time, I'm never away from Mandalore for long, and it would be my great pleasure to teach you the ways of the Dark Side." He smiled at his friend. "I wouldn't want this fight to be too easy."

Quinlan trembled, his words catching in his throat as his anger rose. He had so many questions, so many demands, but all he could manage to choke was, "Why are you doing this? Why are you helping me train to kill Dooku when you clearly have no intention of seeing him dead?"

Obi-Wan shrugged. "The Sith need constant testing to keep sharp. If Dooku isn't strong enough to defend himself against you and whoever you choose to bring with you, than he doesn't deserve to call himself a Lord of the Sith." Kenobi sighed deeply and looked back out toward the gardens. "At which point, I suppose the war will be over. It can't well continue without him."

"But you will defend him."

"I will." He smirked wickedly. "Though, I suppose how hard I fight will be entirely dependent on you." Kenobi laughed when confusion crossed the Jedi's face. "What? I dislike fighting against my friends, especially ones that are so... _promising_."

"Promising _how_."

The Sith Lord grinned. "Well now, that would be for you to figure out, hmm? Come, we've talked long enough about this. You know what you must do and how to do it. The choice is yours to make, not mine, and I fear if I keep you on Mandalore any longer, Satine will have us _both_ imprisoned for espionage."

Quinlan blinked back a startled look. "She would do that? To _you_?"

"She very well may, the woman didn't get to where she is by bending her principles."

The matter was over, and as they walked back the way they came, they talked like old friends, laughing and joking like no time had passed between them, but Quinlan couldn't shake the feeling of unease that rested deep within him. He knew what he needed to do, what needed to happen, but Obi-Wan was living proof of what could go wrong when a Jedi pressed too far. Kenobi had even warned him about the dangers of it, so...what was it that Obi-Wan was trying to do? He was helping him to kill Dooku, only to say he would defend the other Sith, help him reach for darkness, only to tell him not to reach too far. It was... _confusing_ , and Quinlan couldn't puzzle out if Obi-Wan was trying to make him fall, or save him from himself. He suspected it was the former, and if so, the joke would be on the Sith. Quinlan Vos had walked the line for a long time. Darkness was something he could come back from, he was sure of it.


	66. Savage

"You made me a _target_?!"

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. Dooku was, to put it mildly, foaming at the mouth with rage. His deep, sonorous voice was at least two octaves higher, his dark brown eyes turning to Sith pale yellow as the Dark Side gripped him in its claws. Obi-Wan didn't understand what the fuss was. "Oh, _please_ , you aren't in any danger. You're a Lord of the Sith, no Jedi is going to be able to kill you."

"But this _isn't_ a Jedi, is it?!"

"Not if I have anything to say about it." Kenobi felt the sudden grip of the Dark Side around his throat, strong and crushing, and his golden eyes shown with amusement as his chest burned.

"Is this your way of getting back at me for my new apprentice? Does he _threaten_ you, Kenobi?" He rose Obi-Wan into the air, the captive Sith Lord still and calm, and despite the pain surging through him, he showed no indication that he felt it at all. "You are a vain, spiteful, petulant child! Do you not think I see through what you are doing? As much as you believe your visions, Savage isn't _Maul_."

Agony ripped through the Count, and he felt his powers diminish as the Force rushed to Kenobi's aid, the younger man gently released from Dooku's grasp and breathing deep as he filled his deprived lungs with oxygen. Cold, golden eyes watched as Dooku dropped to the ground, a shaking hand clutching his chest as if he were trying to keep his heart within him. It felt as though the Force had a hold of it, the crushing pressure making it beat in fast, shallow contractions.

"I'm sorry..." Kenobi said carelessly. "Are we done hurting each other now?" Dooku nodded, and a moment later, the grip was released, the elder Sith sucking in deep breaths to regulate the brutal pounding in his chest. He sat back on his heels, eyes closed as he calmed his nerves, and he heard Obi-Wan lower himself before him, shuffling as he crossed his legs.

"Explain this to me again," the Count said softly.

"Quinlan Vos falls to the Dark Side. He'll come to try and take your life, and he won't be even close to ready for such a thing. You know how it is in the beginning. You feel so _powerful_ , but it's nothing." The Count opened his eyes, the dark brown hue returned to them. The Sith opposite him was calm, collected, and... _friendly_. If Kenobi had planned on killing him with this Jedi, than he wouldn't have told him. This wasn't a threat, it was an attempt at partnership. As they had planned. Dooku sighed and shook his head as reason reasserted itself. Their last meeting had ended with a great deal of suspicion and mistrust between them. It seemed as though Obi-Wan was simply trying to repair the alliance in the best way he knew how, but the independent decisions they made seemed to never sit well with the other. This wasn't at all unlike his own taking of Savage as his apprentice.

"Obviously, you do not want to kill this Jedi," Dooku said, his deep tone even and unaffected with anger as it had been before.

"No. Quinlan Vos is a Jedi Master and has been flirting with the Dark Side for a very long time. I want him to fall, I want him to choose this."

"And if he doesn't?"

"Then he will die with the rest of them, won't he?"

Dooku stroked his beard thoughtfully. "What help do you suppose he will bring?" Kenobi shrugged.

"Who knows? It won't even matter. He can't bring a Jedi, any of the Masters would stop him before he even left, and his connection to the Dark Side will keep him from anyone that could even be considered dangerous to you." The Sith smirked and laid a hand on his chest. "And I'll be there."

"And if you aren't." Dooku's face was cold and cautious, his hands gripping his knees tightly, but Obi-Wan just laughed and waved off the idea.

"You're a Lord of the Sith. I don't worry about you. And besides, you have an apprentice, don't you?" He grumbled, crossing his arms and looking away when a superior expression graced Dooku's patrician face. "Even if I _don't_ trust that lumbering beast..."

"What are your plans for this Jedi?" Dooku asked, and the other Sith looked back to him and sat up straight.

"By the time he comes for you, he should be entrenched in the Dark Side. We capture him, we find a way to make him not just use it, but embrace it, and we will have a new ally."

"A new apprentice?" Dooku asked, his eyebrow arched, and for a moment, Kenobi's eyes widened, then narrowed in thought.

"I hadn't considered that," he mused, stroking his beard.

"You must have at some point. You cannot simply create Dark Jedi and allow them to run about, not before the Empire. They would be as much a threat to us as they would be to the Jedi."

"I always imagined my child as my first apprentice, I would be ready to teach by then, but Quinlan..." He closed his eyes. _Quinlan_. They were fast friends, even now, and would be even more so when he joined Kenobi on the Dark Side. Could he be both Master and friend? He didn't suspect he could, but with the Rule of Two breaking bit by bit each day, with the rules changing to accommodate the domination of the dark over the light, there were more possibilities with what could be done between like-minded Sith, as he and Dooku were doing now. "Quinlan and I have always been equals. Partners."

"Perhaps when you were Jedi," Dooku stated. "But no longer. You are Sith. By that virtue alone, you are superior. Not all who fall will be Sith, Obi-Wan. They must be made to suffer, to see if they can harness the power of the Dark Side. Very few will be true Sith."

Kenobi nodded. Dooku was right in this, at least. "We'll figure it out when he's in our custody. He can be _our_ project." Obi-Wan smirked wickedly. "After all, Quin's got an advantage. He already wants to kill you." Dooku stared at him for a moment, than laughed heartily, the tension between the two disappearing in an instant. Kenobi had a unique talent at putting those around him at ease. Perhaps this alliance would work after all.

The Force suddenly shifted, and Kenobi's joviality was replaced with cold disgust as Savage Opress jogged into the room, carelessly tossed a creature at his Master's feet, and silently knelt. For a long while, nobody moved, and a slight grin on Kenobi's face grew increasingly wider as the Force grew thick and angry with Dooku's rage. Between the two Sith Lords lay Katuunko, the King of Toydaria, his gray skin becoming pale, his body becoming cold and ridged as death settled upon him. Dooku had been bitter about the strategic failure to secure an alliance with Toydaria earlier in the war, a task Kenobi never got around to completing when fracturing the Jedi Order became his priority. He had sent his new apprentice to bring the King back so they could... _renegotiate_ his alliance with the Separatists. Obi-Wan _had_ offered to do it, but Dooku declined. He wanted the job done _now_ , not whenever the Negotiator deemed it worthy of his time.

"You know..." Obi-Wan said softly, though his voice seemed loud in the deafening silence. "I _did_ offer to do this for you."

"You ignorant _beast_!" Dooku snarled, leaping to his feet with the athleticism of a much younger man. "I told you, I wanted him alive!" His hand extended, and thick, dark blue bolts of electricity lashed out and struck the Nightbrother, his body going rigid and convulsing in pain as the enraged Sith continued to torture his apprentice. With a satisfied sigh, Kenobi rose as well, reached out with the Force to grab hold of the heavy chair behind Dooku's desk, and lifted it to the platform where he stood and placed it behind him. He fell back into the comfortable chair, leaning back and crossing his ankles one over the other and folding his hands behind his head.

"Hey, Tyranus, do you mind if I watch?" the younger Sith asked, raising his voice to be heard over the crackle of the lightning and the anguished screams of the apprentice. "It's been a while since I've watched one of these. Not since our Master tortured _you_ after that mess in the Ruby Nebula before the war."

"Be my guest, Lumis..." The lightning stopped, and the apprentice shuddered, residual arcs of static leaping across his body as he clutched his head, his elongated cranial horns protruding between his fingers.

"F-forgive me, my Master..." Savage groaned in a deep, rasping voice, and Kenobi laughed out loud as he felt the Force thicken in Dooku's anger. Of all the things he could have said, that was perhaps the worst. Obi-Wan learned that early in his training, as all Sith did.

"That is not the way of the Dark Side," was Dooku's cold, vicious reply, and lighting flew from his extended hands once again, more vibrant and intense than before. To Savage's credit, the Nightbrother managed to stand, despite the severe pain that the lightning inflicted, but to his _discredit_ , the creature turned and tried to run, his cowardice rewarded by the Force's choking grasp on his neck as he was wrenched into the air and carelessly thrown across the room. He fell in a smoking heap, gasping for breath and crawling to his knees, his large muscles randomly contracting as his body remembered the Force's violent touch. Dooku's gaze tore away from his apprentice and fixed on the door as it hissed opened, and his eyes widened at the figure that casually strode into the room and stopped mere feet from Savage.

"Now..." the husky, hate-filled voice drawled slowly, her pale eyes narrowing at the Count, and Kenobi leaned forward in his chair, his hands gripping the seat so tightly his knuckles turned white and he reached into the Force, touched the Dark Side, and quietly blended in with the shadows around him. "That's no way to treat your apprentice..."

" _Ventress_ ," the Count growled, his hand extended and calling his lightsaber to it, and it flew into his palm, igniting when he grasped it. "Savage, you can make amends for your mistake by destroying this witch!" he snarled, pointing at Ventress, and the woman laughed with cruel amusement. She was alive, as Kenobi had said, and Dooku felt a pressure deep in his chest as he realized that Obi-Wan may have been right this whole time. This was a mistake, a trap, and he had walked blindly, _willingly_ into it.

"I don't think that will be happening," Ventress said as she sauntered in, amusement and confidence in both her stride and her words, and with a groan, the Nightbrother rose, a dazed look in his yellow eyes as Ventress tapped a long finger to his forehead. "Will it, Savage? Remember where your true loyalties lie."

The Nightbrother's body shuddered then suddenly tensed, his eyes rolling so far back in his head that they showed only white. His eyelids fluttered, and he blinked past the haze, gripping his lightsaber tightly in his hands and igniting the hefty, double bladed weapon. "With you, Mistress," he said mindlessly, his enthralled state leaving his mind cleared of everything but Ventress' will. Dooku lifted his lightsaber as the Nightsister ignited both of hers, and with that, Kenobi had seen enough. He rose, his grasp on the darkness breaking, and he stepped out of the shadows, Ventress pale eyes darting toward the sudden movement, and he could feel her entire presence freeze up, her wrathful focus shattering for a moment, and Savage seemed to slump for a moment before quickly righting himself when Ventress had recovered.

"Obi-Wan," she managed to growl, but her voice cracked with a flood of emotion. "You weren't supposed to be here."

"Asajj," Kenobi said softly, not unkindly, and the Nightsister took a step back. "You're alive, I _knew_ you were." He laughed in excitement, quickly running down the stairs to stand at a tense, irritated Dooku's side. "Why didn't you come home?"

"I _did_ go home!" she snarled. "To Dathomir, to my sisters!"

Obi-Wan scoffed dismissively, and he could feel the Nightsister boil as she growled in rage. "Your _family_. What have the Nightsisters ever done for you besides give you away to _slavers_ , hmm? They are as much your family as the poor fools that spawned _me_ and gave me up to the Jedi Order are mine."

"They welcomed me back after Dooku betrayed me!" she shouted, her temper flaring and with it came the unhinged fury of the Dark Side, a raging blaze around her, but Obi-Wan simply waved it off and took a few long steps toward her, stopping only when her monster pointed the huge, glowing red weapon at him. "The _Sith_ have betrayed me!"

"Fine, yes, Dooku betrayed you, but _I_ never did, Asajj. You never came to me, you should have come to me! I would have helped you, you _know_ that."

"Helped me do _what_ ," she growled. "Helped bring me back into control? Helped bring me back as a servant to the Sith?" Her pale eyes narrowed, and she pointed a blazing red blade at Dooku. "Or would you have helped me kill _him_."

Kenobi put his hands up as a means to sooth her, and he projected calm through the Force, but the raging torrent around her was so furious, so thick that even Obi-Wan's influence couldn't get through. Her rage blinded her as the Dark Side consumed the Nightsister, and _that_ made her exceptionally dangerous. "Asajj, you have been betrayed, I understand. I've been betrayed as well..."

" _Not like this_!"

" _Just like this_!" he snapped at the woman, his own considerable ire rising, and she recoiled slightly when she felt the Dark Side shifting around the young Sith. "The Jedi sent me to die against Dooku. They even prepared me for it, they taught me how to keep my wits about me as I died so I could use the last of my strength to strike down my enemy. So _yes_ , Asajj, I understand."

Ventress was silent for a moment, looking away from the Sith Lords and the point of her saber wavered as she trembled. Dooku stepped closer to Kenobi, nudging his arm gently and glaring at the Dathomirians, but Obi-Wan held up his hand to call for his patience. The elder Sith nodded, taking the moment of quiet to center himself in the Force and prepare for the fight that may be coming.

Ventress took a deep breath and looked Obi-Wan right in the eye. "If you understand, you will help me kill Dooku. I _must_ have my revenge."

"...I won't help you do that, Asajj."

The pale eyes narrowed in rage, her mouth turning up into a vicious sneer. "That's because you are _Sith_ , and you Sith are all the same. _Savage_!" With a raging snarl, the Nightbrother brought his weapon up, deftly spinning it over his head before he held it fast in front of him.

"You take your apprentice, I'll handle Asajj," Kenobi quietly commanded, and the Count nodded.

" _Gladly_."

The two Dathomirians rushed forward, and Obi-Wan ran to meet them, drawing his own red blade as lightning from Dooku's extended hand shot past him and struck Savage in the chest, and the apprentice dropped screaming to the ground. Ventress howled in rage as her support collapsed, and she tried to jump over Kenobi, only to find herself grabbed by the Force and thrown across the room far away from Dooku. She only just managed to bring her blades crossed up before her to stop the swift downward strike of the Sith's lightsaber.

"Asajj, _stop this_ ," Kenobi snarled, putting his full strength down on his lightsaber, and Ventress' arms shook as she struggled to keep the wicked blade from her. "You cannot win here."

"I can," she snarled. " _I will_!" With a surge of the Force, Ventress pushed off the wall behind her, her blades sparking as they slid underneath Kenobi's and shot straight for his throat. He quickly stepped out of the way, her weapon singing the hairs of his beard as she rushed past him and ran for Dooku as he engaged a furious Savage. She was fast, faster than Obi-Wan as she allowed the Dark Side not just to rage within her, but to consume her to fuel its power. In this moment, she was far faster, far stronger, far more powerful than she had ever been, and she had been strong enough before to attract the attention and anger of Darth Sidious. She was no Sith, but Kenobi recognized how dangerous she was.

Kenobi raised his hand and shot his own torrent of lightning at Ventress, but the woman sensed the barrage and swiftly turned, her lightsabers crossed before her as she effortlessly blocked the attack. Kenobi ran forward, his hand raised and keeping the pressure on the furious woman, and he felt the Dark Side swell around her, roaring with outrage and betrayal. The intent was to get her attention, and Obi-Wan had it. With a savage shout, she ran toward him, keeping her blades raised to continue to absorb the lightning, and when she was close enough, she jumped to the side, rolling behind him and slashing her blades upwards as she rose, and Obi-Wan only just managed to bring his lightsaber up over his head, angling it down behind him to catch the Nightsister's strike.

He spun, drawing the darksaber from his belt as he did so and ignited it as he whipped around, the black blade lashing out as it extended toward her face, and Ventress leaned back to avoid it, but she miscalculated the full length of the weapon and the tip caught her, slashing a thin, burning line across her cheek and the side of her nose. The pain was searing, enough to make the Nightsister hiss and retreat, new caution and hesitation settling over her as the Dark Side reeled and raged.

"You would _kill_ me, Obi-Wan?" she said in a mixture of shock, betrayal and anger, and the Sith Lord laughed harshly.

"You started it, my dear. Don't forget that."

"No, _he_ started it!" she shrieked, her blade pointing at Dooku as he deftly fought the monster she controlled. "And you did as well when you sided with him!" Electricity again crackled in the air, and a moment later, Savage Opress skidded to a stop beside them, his armor bearing electric burns and smoking as the Zabrak groaned in pain. A flash of Kenobi's golden eyes and the brutal cold snap in the Force alerted Ventress to his intent, and she brought one of her blades sweeping up from the floor to intercept Kenobi's as he lashed out toward the prone Savage.

"You cannot win!" Kenobi snarled, his usual smooth, accented drawl suddenly rough with rage, and Ventress felt herself hesitate when she sensed betrayal in Kenobi as well. "Your apprentice is sloppy and unrefined! He has _no_ technique. Did you really think a mindless beast would aid you in your fight against a _Sith Lord_?"

She felt movement behind her, and whirled her blade around to block a strike from Dooku, the elder Sith having decided that Savage was no threat at all and turned his attention to focus on the true problem. Her arms shook as she struggled to hold off both Dooku and Kenobi's blades, but she was not strong enough. With a strangled cry, she dropped, spinning underneath the Sith Lords' weapons as they clashed against each other and, in perfect unison, brought them swiftly down toward her. Ventress pushed off the ground with her hands and only just managed to evade the fatal blows, the red plasma burning into the ground where a moment ago she had crouched.

" _Get up, Savage_!" she shouted at the struggling Nightbrother. "Get up and kill him!" The Zabrak rose, reignited his lightsaber, and charged at Dooku, but the Sith simply extended his hand, and without even giving the Nightbrother a look, struck him in the chest with Force lightning, and he was sent sprawling back to the ground.

"I _can't_ ," Savage said through grit teeth and pain, watching helplessly as Ventress deftly avoided the swift, precise elegance of Dooku's blade work and the sinister pull of the Force that Kenobi exerted that she was only just able to resist. "He's too powerful!"

"Your weakness will not be our downfall!" She renewed her efforts, drew deeply of the Force and renewed her focus and rushed at Dooku once again, the Count retreating as he defended against the flurry, which ended abruptly when Kenobi flanked her and divided her attention. Dooku chuckled deeply when he watched her face fill with anger and panic.

"A failed apprentice makes for a foolish Master," Dooku chided, a smile on his lips, and Ventress exploded in new rage, darting out of the way of the Sith, trying desperately to keep them from flanking her, but to no avail. When Savage rose and once again attacked, she thought there may be a chance of dividing the Sith Lords' focus, but her hopes were quickly dashed. As Obi-Wan had said, Savage was brutal, yes, but unrefined, with no technique to speak of, and it made for a poor asset, one that got in the way as much as not. The Dathomirians were not a team, and the Sith Lords were perfectly united, a powerful connection through the Force between them, and they moved with one mind, alternating their attack and defense to best suit the furious attacks that were launched at them.

Ventress' frustration with her ally peaked when Kenobi disengaged from her and sent his own barrage of lightning at Savage when his wide, brutal cleaves were becoming a hindrance. They were not difficult to predict or avoid, but the unrefined swipes and chops were interfering with the careful grace of the Sith's movements, and the long, double sided blade made it particularly dangerous to get close to the beast. Ventress shouted her rage at the creature, the Nightbrother sitting up in a daze, shaking his head as if to clear a fog from his mind, and his pale yellow eyes seemed to glow as the Force gathered around him.

Kenobi quickly stopped his rush toward the Nightbrother, caution taking hold as the Force warned him of the change within Savage. Reaching into the depths of hate and pain and rage, the Zabrak found the Dark Side willing and waiting for him, and with the embrace of that power, something had broken within Savage as the Force set him free of all that bound him. His subservience to Dooku and the Sith, his slavery to Ventress and the Nightsisters, all of it ended in an instant, and Obi-Wan watched as the Zabrak's will was made manifest for perhaps the first time in his life. Kenobi dodged out of the way just in time, rolling and skidding to a halt on his feet as he brought the Force around him to shield himself from the explosive fury of Savage Opress. He looked up to see both Dooku and Ventress, focused on each other and not at the danger stirring in the Zabrak, and former Master and apprentice ceased their vicious duel as they were lifted into the air by their throats, the Nightbrother effortlessly breaking past any defense they may have held as he began to strangle the two beings that had enslaved him and made him suffer.

It was his only chance. With the full fury of the Dark Side filling the Nightbrother, the focus of his wrath held high in the air, Obi-Wan rushed at the liberated beast, his lightsaber leaving a bleeding trail of red in the air behind him. He reached Savage just as the Nightbrother had expelled the Force outward with explosive power, sending Dooku and Ventress to crash hard against the furthest walls of the room, the blast pushing Kenobi back as well. In a flash, the Nightbrother was off, bolting across the room with his saber raised as he screamed his fury, attacking both the Nightsister and the Sith, the two former Masters of Savage fending off the angry blade in a hazy rush as they staggered to their feet, the room swimming from the hard impact.

Reaching deep into the Force, Obi-Wan reached out, navigating the Dark Side with the expertise of one who was born to live in the storm, and he found Savage's consciousness and pulled at it, sending the Nightbrother flying back just as he had kicked Dooku's saber out of his hand and was about to bring the blade down on the Sith Lord. The Nightbrother was pulled toward Kenobi, and with his blade raised, the Sith arched the saber around with the intention to remove the tattooed head from his massive shoulders, but Savage got his bearings at the last moment and ducked down, the red blade neatly searing off four of his elongated cranial horns, but missing the green skull. The Nightbrother paid it no mind, his rage with Dooku and Ventress forcing him into unrelenting focus, and he rushed for them again, but this time, Obi-Wan was prepared for it.

He extended his hand, lightning sparking from his fingertips and striking the Nightbrother in the back as he rushed for Ventress, the woman on her feet and furious. Just as Obi-Wan was about to bring the blade down on the prone Savage, the Nightsister reached out with the culmination of all her fury and pushed, the Force she commanded a tempest as it picked up Savage and hurled him backwards just as Kenobi's lightsaber slashed against the ground. The loud sound of glass shattering filled the room as the force of the push sent Savage through the window and tumbling down the sheer drop of the cliff the palace sat upon. Obi-Wan snarled in frustration, his anger peaking as interference from the other combatants constantly got in his way, and he slowly advanced on Ventress, and for the first time since she arrived, fear filled her as she looked into the blazing glow of golden eyes.

" _I had him_ ," Kenobi snarled in a voice that was not his own, and Ventress backed away, stopping when she heard Dooku's lightsaber ignite behind her. The Count was back on his feet, and he was none too happy. She turned to run, but the Force surrounded her, grasping her in its frigid clutches and raising her up into the air. Immediately, Ventress' blood began to boil within her, and she could feel Kenobi's dark touch deep within her mind, sifting through her emotions, her thoughts, her memories as if he were looking for something, searching relentlessly for an unspecified piece of information as he carelessly tore through everything else. It was painful, unspeakably so, and Asajj would have simply shown him exactly what he wanted if she only knew what it was if it would stop the pain.

It felt like an eternity to Ventress, but it only took a few seconds for Kenobi to lift her, rip through her consciousness, and then for Dooku to strike her with lightning, the overwhelming power of it sending the Nightsister flying through the air and flung carelessly out the broken window and over the cliff, down toward the bottom that could not be seen through the darkness of night. Obi-Wan immediately ran to the window, his boots crunching over bits of broken glass, and he closed his eyes and sunk deep into the Force in search of the life pulse of the two Dathomirians.

He hissed in frustration when he reeled away from the window and stalked toward Dooku. "They're alive," he said softly, the darkness reigned in, and Dooku sensed not just anger from the young Sith, but relief as well. Ventress was his friend, after all, and had been for several years, and furthermore, he understood her plight, was pleased by her safety, and certainly didn't want her dead. Attachments were... _messy_.

"Should we pursue?" Dooku asked, and Kenobi shook his head.

"We lose the advantage the second we leave the palace. And by the time we get down, they will already be gone. Get the droids on it."

Dooku immediately activated the comlink on his desk and ordered the droids to elevate the security and to search the surrounding area for the two Dathomirians. Any unregistered ship they found was to be immediately destroyed, and _no_ ship was to take off or land until the Count gave the word. The quick affirmative was received, the comlink deactivated, and Dooku shuffled wearily to sit beside Obi-Wan on the steps.

There was silence for a long while as Dooku calmed his ragged breath, as Kenobi soothed the nearly untamable Dark Side, as the Sith slowly untangled the flow of thoughts and feelings between them that they established during the heat of battle, and slowly, the intensity of their bond subsided. "I'm sorry..." Dooku said softly, his deep voice heavy and tired, and Kenobi ever so slightly inclined his head.

"I know." He placed his hands behind him and leaned back, breathing deep as he closed his eyes. "I could have killed her. I could have killed _him_. If Ventress didn't push him when she did, if _you_ didn't hit her when you did..."

"Should I apologize?"

"...no." He slowly opened his eyes, his entire body settling into weariness as the Force calmed and the adrenaline subsided. Fighting other Dark Side practitioners, even if they weren't Sith, even if they were simply failed apprentices, was no easy task, and Ventress had the advantage of being trained by him and Dooku for a prolonged period of time, and Savage was...well, he was a _beast_. Unrefined, but with great potential, and Obi-Wan knew too well that even an animal could be dangerous when cornered. The comlink on the desk beeped, and Dooku answered it remotely. They had found the escaping Dathomirians in different places, and both caused an as yet to be calculated amount of damage before they escaped. With a snarl of fury, Dooku ended the transmission and laid back, running his hands over his face, and Obi-Wan could feel that he was weary as well.

"I'm getting old," Dooku muttered under his breath, and Kenobi chuckled softly.

"You know, your old Master Yoda would say, 'Age matters not'," he said in a raspy imitation of the Jedi Grandmaster, and Dooku laughed deeply.

"He would say such, yes, but the opinion of one who can live a thousand years is hardly valid in this case."

Kenobi propped himself up on his elbows and looked the Count over and quietly gave voice to what they were both thinking. "What now?"

"There is only one thing to do," Dooku said slowly, his tone even and measured. "You were right about it all. This is Talzin's work. This will continue to happen unless we purge Dathomir of those vile witches."

Kenobi nodded. "Not just them. The Nightbrothers as well."

"Savage and Ventress will certainly return home. We must attack before they can escape."

Kenobi looked around the room, the walls scorched with lightning burns, the floor covered in deep, molten scars from lightsabers. It was a mess, and it would continue. "The Force isn't done with them..." he whispered, groaning as he rose to his feet and helping Dooku up as well. "Call for Grievous. I'll go with him to make sure the Nightsisters and the Nightbrothers are all executed." Dooku smirked.

"Not going to take these for your experiments, Kenobi?"

"No. They're too dangerous, and I want to send a message to Asajj and that beast of hers about what it means to attack the Sith."

Dooku frowned deeply at Kenobi's implication. "You do not think we will kill Savage and Ventress?"

"I think by the time we mobilize Grievous and his elite, they will be long gone. And we _need_ his best. I think we can agree that Talzin isn't one to be taken lightly."

"I agree completely."

Kenobi scoffed. "Yes, _now_ , after that apprentice mistake." Dooku simply looked away from the other Sith. There was nothing else to be said on the matter. "Speaking of..." Obi-Wan slowly drawled, and Dooku looked back at him suspiciously. "I have a... _peace offering_ , if you will. Something I picked up on Umbara." He smiled brightly. " _Just_ for you."

Dooku narrowed his eyes as he tried to get a sense of what the younger Sith was up to, but he was unreadable. "What is it..."

Smiling, Obi-Wan rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. "How do you feel about a new apprentice?"


	67. Transformations

The Masters tried _very_ hard to keep the reports from Umbara confined to members of the Council, so by the next day, every Padawan in the Temple and away from Coruscant knew about it. The invasion of Umbara turned out to be one of the greatest tactical mistakes of the war. Not only did popular opinion turn against the Jedi for invading, but it also turned against the Senate for allowing it, and in the wake of the Republic's staggering loss, nearly a hundred systems left for Mandalore. The Jedi weren't concerned about that. The Jedi were concerned about the bodies.

It wasn't a battle that destroyed the Republic presence on Umbara. It was a massacre. Thousands were dead, including the Jedi General that had commanded there, and reports out of Umbara claimed that the bodies of the clones had been torn to pieces, and several had been eaten, partially or completely. This battle was not won by the technologically advanced Umbarans or the Separatist battle droids. This battle was won by _beasts_. Monsters out of stories that Jedi younglings told each other to scare their friends into restless nights. When rumors about this beast army began to surface, the Jedi sent their best to recover one. They came back with three.

Immediately upon their delivery, the Jedi and the Republic set their best scientists to studying the creatures, but nobody knew what to make of them. They _looked_ like Twi'lek males, but they were far bigger than the average, slight built creatures. Despite their varied pigmentation, all of them seemed to have streaks of dark red running through their skin, and their lekku were tipped with sharp spikes, the same long, razor protrusions occurring along the spine, at the elbows, and cresting their smooth head. The scientists believed this to be some genetic variant that hailed from some unexplored world in the Outer Rim or in the Unknown Region, a territory that the Separatists had ready access to, but the Jedi came to a different conclusion based on a very recent attack.

Anakin Skywalker stood in the sterilized room with a datapad in hand, reviewing the footage of the attack on the Temple of Eedit on Devaron while Captain Tarkin stood over the dead creature, sterilized gloves on his hands as he slid a knife down the length of its torso to cut it open. Anakin trusted Tarkin, especially in matters like this. The man had grown up in the savage wilds of Eriadu, where he formed not only his brutal and efficient methods of warfare, but a keen sense for tracking the most elusive, clever of creatures and an impressive talent for survival. In short, cutting things up was second nature to the ruthless Captain.

Tarkin wrinkled his nose as he cut away the external layers of skin to allow him to see the organs underneath. He reached inside and dug up a thick, deep red, elongated organ, and Anakin turned his back to the man, looking intently at the footage. He understood the need for the dissection. He had personally requested that Tarkin be the one to complete it, but he didn't need to _see_ the grisly sight. "I'm not intimately familiar with Twi'lek biology, Skywalker, but I'd say that these creatures are identical to them, at least superficially."

"So these _are_ Twi'leks?"

"I should say so."

"Any chance these could be our missing Twi'leks from Ryloth?"

Tarkin dropped the organ back into the creature and looked at Anakin, a contemplative frown on his face. "Initially, I would say that is unlikely. These Twi'leks appear to have been genetically altered, and changes like this occur over generations, not over months."

"However..." Anakin began, and Tarkin rolled his eyes.

" _However_ ," the Captain continued, "with changes this severe, one would expect to see differences in their internal makeup, or some variation at least, but these _are_ Twi'lek. I suspect that these specimens will match biological records the Senate keeps on the species." He looked over the creature on the table, reached out and grabbed the long, thin spine that protruded from his elbow, observed the sharp claws on his light green hand. "I think you will find that these are our missing Twi'leks."

That settled it for Anakin. "And what about this creature?" he asked, holding up the datapad, and the Captain took off his bloody gloves, discarded them, and took the device from Anakin, watching with interest at the recorded massacre. It was a Zabrak, his skin a rare shade of golden yellow, the cranial horns of his species elongated into sharp, wicked barbs that could easily and fatally impale a creature upon them. What was most startling, however, was his massive size, the comparison between him and the uniformed clones putting him at over seven feet tall, which dwarfed the Zabrak six foot average. Tarkin slowly looked back at the dissected Twi'lek.

"I cannot say for certain, Skywalker, but these creatures almost certainly come from a similar process. There are more alterations done to the Twi'lek, but..."

"But you agree that these have both been changed, and I think I know how." He quickly swiped the screen of the datapad to clear the footage and pulled up another, this one of the security recordings on Toydaria which showed the same massive creature. Only this time, instead of the huge, cleaving pole axe from the massacre on Devaron, he was wielding a double bladed red lightsaber. This creature was _Sith_. Tarkin frowned as he watched the Zabrak coldly kill dozens, though Anakin knew that the Captain wasn't looking so serious because he was disturbed. Tarkin was merely concentrating.

"You believe this to be the work of your rogue Jedi?"

"I keep telling you, Tarkin, he's _not_ a Jedi!" The Captain simply rolled his eyes. "But yes, I think it's the only thing that makes sense. If you agree the Zabrak and the Twi'lek are somehow related, than we're looking at some sort of Dark Side... _thing_."

Tarkin arched an eyebrow. "Eloquent as always, sir."

"Shut up, Tarkin." Skywalker snatched the datapad from his superior looking Captain and stuffed it into the folds of his robes, muttering curses at the man under his breath. "I know you don't know anything about the Force, but using the Dark Side changes a person, not just who they are, but physically as well." Anakin held his head up high. "I know _you_ haven't been that close to a Sith Lord before, Tarkin, but they've got glowing yellow eyes. It's a physical change that happens to them if they dig too deeply into darkness."

Tarkin considered this for a moment before he looked Anakin square in the face and plainly stated, "No they don't."

"... _excuse me_?!"

"I've seen holovids of Dooku's speeches. You say he's a Sith Lord, right?"

"He _is_ a Sith Lord."

"Well, _he_ doesn't have yellow eyes."

Anakin clenched his fist tightly. There were days that he swore that Chancellor Palpatine had assigned him Wilhuff Tarkin just to vex him. " _Fine_ ," he conceded. "But he used to be a _Jedi_ , and he's not now, because he uses the _Dark Side of the Force_."

Tarkin considered this for a moment, his hand at his chin, before he nodded. "I can accept this as a possibility."

"Alright, _thank you_." Anakin crossed his arms over his chest. "The Dark Side is corrupting because _power_ is corrupting. I think one of our Dark Side friends may have used the Force to... _change_ these people."

"Can the Force do such a thing?"

"I don't know, I'll have to go with Master Qui-Gon to see what I can find in the Archives. They had to learn this from somewhere, and they stole several Sith holocrons from the Holocron Vault when they broke in."

Tarkin looked back to the body on the table, his gaunt face drawn in concentration and deep thought. The Force was beyond him, though he respected people who had this advantage. For the most part. The Jedi were fearsome warriors, but their Code kept them from victory more often than not. Fortunately, Anakin Skywalker was a bit more forward thinking than most Jedi, and while he was unwilling to go to the brutal lengths necessary to win swiftly, he was more often than not coming up constantly evolving plans that revealed a quick, strategic mind and a willingness to strike out at an enemy's weak points when they were exposed, regardless of the repercussions. It seemed reckless, yes, but Tarkin recognized it for what it was: a quick way to force the enemy to make emotional, impulsive mistakes that dealt an advantage to the Republic.

"Putting your Jedi matters aside for a moment," the Captain said in a serious manner. "There is a far more serious matter at hand. This war is expensive. The cloners don't do their work for free, which makes our soldiers a limited resource." His blue eyes narrowed. "But if your... _Sith Lords_ can make monster warriors out of civilians, than our enemy has found a way to draw on an army that is not only free, but infinitely large."

"And extremely dangerous..." Skywalker sighed. "Jedi can cut through droids like they're nothing, but these things..." He counted on his fingers. "Massacre at Devaron, hundreds of clones and two Jedi dead. Massacre at Umbara, _thousands_ of clones and a Jedi Master _dead_. They cause massacres everywhere they go."

"Every beast can be tamed," Tarkin said quietly. "I've learned that lesson well. We just need to find what it is they fear and use that fear against them. They aren't machines, and even the basest of creatures fear _something_."

Anakin smirked. "What about the rancor?"

"Even them, or your friend Kenobi wouldn't have been able to tame _three_. He is an apex predator, and if we are going to win, than we must learn to become so as well. If the Separatists switch to using a free, far superior force, and if it turns out they can make them quickly, than not only is every innocent civilian a potential future soldier, but the Republic cannot hope to emerge victorious."

Anakin nodded, resolve in his blue eyes as the path became clear. The Sith were making these, so the Sith needed to be destroyed, and quickly. Every Jedi in the Order knew that this is what needed to be done, but the arrival of these Dark Side warriors strengthened Anakin's resolve and his urgency. "I'll talk to the Council about what we discovered here."

"And I must report our findings to the Chancellor. He was eager to hear about our investigation on the matter." He paused to straighten his immaculate uniform. "You should come as well. Your leadership these past few months has made you pop up quite a bit in our conversations."

Anakin nodded. "I'll stop by after I report to the Council. And then you and I need to leave. Two days on Coruscant is far too long when there's a war to win."

Tarkin respectfully inclined his head and turned to leave, than stopped, and looked over his shoulder, his blue eyes gleaming with amusement. "General Skywalker, I feel like you should know that it has been reported that the Star Destroyer stolen from us during the battle of Mon Cala has been found."

Anakin gasped and rushed to the Captain's side. " _Where_?!"

"With the Separatist fleet over Mygeeto." A lazy smirk passed over Tarkin's face. "Colored in your friend Kenobi's red and black. And he calls her the _Skywalker_."

* * *

There was something wrong with Quinlan Vos. The Jedi Masters had all rolled their eyes, said that Quinlan was just being Quinlan, that he had never stuck strictly to the Code, but Ahsoka knew better. She could _feel_ it within him through the strong Force bond they shared. He was more secretive than usual, which would have been hard to see unless they _really_ knew the Kiffar, could interpret his glib remarks, his carefree attitude, his flagrant debauchery, all things he used to keep people away in traditional Jedi unattachment. It worked, but not with his Padawan.

He had been drinking more than usual, sneaking out of the Temple or away from the war camps late at night far more than he usually did, was far, _far_ more aggressive in battle than he had been before, and he harnessed powers that were frankly terrifying in their effectiveness, powers that allowed him to accomplish things that Ahsoka didn't even know was possible. The Force wasn't just a comforting companion to Quinlan, it was a frightening one, and it was something that Master Vos had been unwilling to share with his student, despite her pleading for him to teach her.

Ahsoka had asked him what was wrong the first time she felt something was off, but the Kiffar had just laughed, said he was simply blowing off steam, that he needed a break from the stresses of war, which accounted for the drinking and the... _other things_ , and when she asked about his ruthless use of the Force, he had simply shrugged and smiled and asked her if she wanted battles to go quickly, or drag on, for clones to die in an extended conflict, or be saved in a shorter one. She couldn't exactly argue with the logic, and that may have been the end of the matter if, _occasionally_ , Ahsoka didn't look at her Master, her _friend_ , and see darkness raging within him.

The Masters didn't see it. They couldn't see the darkness in him, even though it was only skin deep, even though a Jedi Master should have been able to look inside him and seen it _boiling_ , just as Ahsoka did. She couldn't understand how the likes of Master Windu, Master Plo, Master Mundi couldn't see what she did. She would have asked those closer to Quinlan, like Qui-Gon and Luminara, but they were never in the same place at the same time, and the sensitive nature of the subject made Ahsoka uncomfortable talking about it over a comlink. This was a subject that needed to be discussed in person, face to face, in hopes that they could somehow see what she saw in her Master.

Doubt began to plague her, and the Padawan thought she may have been going crazy. If the Masters couldn't sense this, than _surely_ it was nothing. It was true that they hadn't been able to sense the Dark Side in Obi-Wan Kenobi all that time ago, but things were different now. Now they were actively at war with the Sith. Now they _knew_ there was a threat where before they had been largely ignorant. Everyone was on high alert. The Dark Side certainly couldn't slip by the Jedi Masters when they knew exactly what to look for. It must have just been a combination of stress and nerves and stories about Sith evil that was making her paranoid. And...it wasn't all bad. Quinlan's aggression _was_ making battles end faster, and he _was_ saving lives by doing so, and all the anger, all the fury that seemed to come out of him in the heat of battle simply vanished afterwards. She was just seeing darkness and shadows everywhere because of the disturbance in the Force the war was causing. Quinlan was _fine_. He was just _intense_.

Regardless of the state of her Master, she was learning a great deal about harnessing the Force to her advantage, and while Quinlan wasn't a teacher like she expected, the Kiffar was brilliant at leading by example. He encouraged her to blaze her own path, said there was no right or wrong way to approach any obstacle, that emotions, despite the common belief among the Jedi, were valuable and important, so long as one could master them, instead of being mastered _by_ them. Otherwise, they'd be no better than the Sith, who lied and deceived their way through life in order to justify their evil actions, which were so often driven from the corruption of deep, powerful emotions, twisted into hatred and anger when they lost control. Ahsoka took all his lessons to heart, and she was becoming powerful extremely quickly by following Quinlan's battlefield example, and more than teaching her how to fight and walk side by side with the Force, Quinlan was teaching her how to survive. They were, all in all, a good match, despite her concerns.

Just as she was concerned now, as her Master had flown off a few days ago for Mandalore, presumably to kick the venomite nest that was the personal property of Sith Lord Obi-Wan Kenobi. He should have taken her with him. She was stronger now than the first time they had faced off against the Sith Lord, as was her Master, and the _second_ time Quinlan had met him, he had proved that Kenobi could be reasoned with, even if it was only for a short time, and even if that bout of reason ended in taking a hostage and bringing a pirate holdout down on them...

The third time might be the one that pulled Kenobi back to the Light, as Quinlan and Qui-Gon had hoped. It was no secret that Vos was deeply connected to Obi-Wan. Perhaps it was simply the Sith's darkness that she was sensing in her Master, not his own. Regardless, he had left her behind, and she was unhappy about it, though she would have minded more if her friend Barriss weren't currently in the Temple, as Luminara had been recalled to handle a potentially _very_ bad, very delicate situation coming out of Mandalore. There were all kinds of rumors surfacing about Satine among the politicians and delegates since her trip to meet with the Senate, and because she had come across as so strong in her negotiations, and afterwards, so _personable_ in the excessively important social dealings, she had remained under constant scrutiny, and as such, rumors spread like wildfire.

Ahsoka didn't pay much attention to rumors. Growing up in the Temple, she had heard her fair share of fabrications based on shreds of truths to wild tales with no fact behind them at all. The younglings and the Padawans, eager to learn and swept up in the mystical world they were fortunate enough to be born into, were all terribly trusting, which made it more fun to spread outlandish tales, just to see which would catch and which would fizzle out. The most impressive one had been about famed Obi-Wan Kenobi slaying a Sith Lord, or two, or three, and even with hard evidence to support it, the actual story had spiraled into fabrication as well, to the point that even young Ahsoka didn't believe it until she had spoken to the kind, quiet, studious man herself. Then there were the rumors that the same man had joined the Sith, and while Ahsoka knew it to be true because of her Master, because she had seen it for herself, there were many in the Temple that didn't believe it. They all did _now_ , but it was difficult to know which rumors to believe.

Which is why Ahsoka found it difficult to believe the stories coming out of the Senate about Mandalore. They ranged from possibly believable to excessively outlandish, but there seemed to be no way to assert reason and stop the talking. It was said that Mand'alor Satine looked to conquer the galaxy, to finish the work of Mand'alor the Ultimate from the ancient Mandalorian Wars. That she was secretly in league with both the Republic and Separatists forces so that she could quietly assert her way into their politics and bring about real, defended peace. That Count Dooku and Chancellor Palpatine continued to drive their armies against each other to _impress_ the pacifist queen in hopes of securing an alliance by marriage with the royal woman. That she was somehow not only a telepath, but had developed Force sensitivity, which accounted for how she had so easily won over the Republic, the Confederacy, and her own enemies. There were thousands of others, each more ridiculous than the last, and Ahsoka didn't believe a word of any of it. If anyone knew anything, it would be Luminara and Barriss, and she was heading to the Padawan's room now.

Ahsoka tapped the small intercom box by the door, and Barriss swiftly, calmly asked her to enter without first asking who it was. The Togruta pressed the button and the door slid open to reveal Barriss sitting cross-legged on the ground, her eyes closed and her face peaceful. She had been meditating. Ahsoka paid her no mind and threw herself at the older girl, wrapping her skinny arms around the Mirialan and sending them both sprawling to the ground while Ahsoka laughed in delight. The Jedi were not supposed to form attachments, but young Tano had formed many, and Barriss was one of them.

"I hear," Ahsoka began, "that you and Master Luminara have been serving primarily as diplomats these days."

Barriss smiled shyly. "It's what we're best at," she said humbly. "Master Luminara has been appointed as one of two Jedi advisors to the Chancellor. He believes that it is important to work as closely with the Jedi as possible."

The Togruta wrinkled her nose. "Don't you get bored? I mean, it's all just talking and listening to people argue and lie..."

"I admit there's a fair bit of that," she said, smiling for a moment before it all faded away into something far more grim. "But it isn't all that. A fair deal of our negotiations end in violence..."

Ahsoka grinned, trying to lighten the mood. It didn't work. "My Master calls that aggressive negotiations. We do those sometimes too, but...the Council has a reason for not sending Master Quinlan on diplomatic missions. He's far too good at leading the clones to victory."

The Mirialan's nose wrinkled in distaste. "Of course he is. So many Jedi are." She looked at her friend with a serious expression on her green face. "Do you like fighting in this war, Ahsoka?"

"Yes, of course." She bit her lip. "W-well...no, not exactly, but..." Ahsoka sighed in frustration. "The war is awful, of course. But..." She sighed and wrapped her arms around her legs and leaned her cheek against her knees. "When I was a youngling, all I ever wanted was to be a Jedi Knight and see the galaxy with my Master. Than the war began, and everything seemed so uncertain. And now..." The Togruta smiled softly. "Now my Master and I go from planet to planet and defend the Republic against evil and the _Sith_. It's awful this happened, but...for the first time, I feel like I've found my place in the galaxy."

Barriss bowed her head and looked to the ground, and Ahsoka didn't see the Mirialan's tiny hand balling into a fist in her robes. "You think you're place is in war?"

"Well...yeah. Right now, it is. I mean, _somebody_ needs to stand against evil, right?"

"Of course," Barriss said. "But is this the right way to do it?"

Ahsoka pursed her lips. "We don't really have a choice."

"Don't we?"

"No! We're fighting the _Sith_. If we don't stand and fight, than there won't be a Jedi Order anymore."

Barriss softly scoffed. "We're hardly Jedi anymore." Ahsoka didn't say anything. She _couldn't_ say anything. In the silence, Barriss looked up, a faint smile on her lips to reassure her worried friend. "We have no business in this war. If the Jedi had just stood back and tried to find peace..." She shook her head. "Why was it such a bad thing to break away from the Republic? Why couldn't we have just allowed the Separatists the power to choose?" Her blue eyes narrowed. "I didn't think that being a part of the Republic _wasn't_ a choice."

"I'm sorry..." the Togruta said, running her hand over the small bumps of her montrails. She understood Barriss, felt her frustrations. Her temperament had always been gentle, her inclination always toward meditation and negotiations. The Mirialans were spiritual people, and war did not sit well with them. It didn't sit well with Ahsoka either, of course, but she had always appreciated the more physical aspects of her training. All of them were still struggling to justify their place in this brutal conflict. "I don't have any answers for you, Barriss. I'm not really very aware of the politics."

Barriss looked away. "No, no, I'm sorry." She sighed, chuckling softly. "I didn't mean to burden you, Ahsoka."

The Togruta grinned. "It's alright. I don't mind. This war is hard on everyone." She frowned and looked at her friend. They were both just Padawans, but they have never been shy about voicing their concerns to each other. "I'm worried about my Master. The war isn't _hard_ on him, but it's...changed him. I thought I sensed darkness in him."

Barriss brought her hand to her chin, a pensive look on her face as she considered her friend's troubles. "Are you certain it was from him and not from the state of the Force? Everything is out of balance."

"I'm sure. Or...I _think_ I'm sure."

The Mirialan nodded. "I think...that is normal for a Jedi at war." She smiled reassuringly at Ahsoka when the Togruta looked uncertain. "It's not like it was when we were just peacekeepers. Nothing is peaceful and serene anymore."

"Y-yeah, maybe..." She didn't know, and Barriss' guess was as good as hers. Still, she thought there was something more, but that would be better discussed with Luminara, and the Master _was_ in the Temple, even if she was entrenched in meetings with the Council and the Senate. She took a deep breath and let the matter go for the moment. "But you like diplomacy?"

Barriss nodded. "It comes easily to me, I think," she said, smiling. "I don't do any of the actual work, but I am learning a great deal from my Master. She has been working closely with Chancellor Palpatine, and he's very insightful about the state of things in the Senate and the galaxy at large."

"There's a lot of talk around the Temple about the Mandalorians." Ahsoka grinned broadly when Barriss rolled her eyes. "I heard some youngling say earlier that their queen is Force sensitive and is looking to start her own Mandalorian branch of the Jedi."

Barriss scoffed and dismissed the idea with a wave of her hand. "I heard similar as well, but no, that isn't happening. But there has been a great deal of talk about Mandalore in the Senate since her visit. Dealing with her properly has become a major concern for my Master."

Ahsoka frowned. "The Jedi seem nervous about it too."

"Of course they are. The Mandalorians are historically some of the most talented Jedi killers any culture has ever produced. Their palace _still_ has artwork and murals and carvings depicting their warriors killing Jedi Knights."

"...isn't she a pacifist?"

"Yes, but she's a pacifist with a Sith Lord behind her. Which, of course, the Senate is unconcerned about, but we know better." She crossed her arms in front of her chest and looked at the ceiling, and Ahsoka couldn't help but smile. This was what Barriss was meant for. Not the war. "Master Luminara says there is no doubt that the Duchess and the Sith are close." She flushed, a dark shade of green coming to her cheeks. " _Very_ close."

A maniacal grin came to Ahsoka's face, both at the confirmation of that particular rumor and at her friend's discomfort. Master Vos talked about such things in _great_ detail, and it had gotten the young Padawan somewhat used to the subject. The Kiffar had, of course, insinuated that this was the case on Mandalore, that Satine and Obi-Wan had something of a star-crossed affair, but he started more rumors than anyone, and she didn't believe it. "But so what? They're _pacifists_. Even now."

"Yes, but now she's raised an army." The Togruta felt her stomach sink. _That_ was one of the rumors that she didn't believe because she didn't _want_ to believe it. A militant Mandalore was always a galactic concern.

"An _army_?"

Barriss nodded seriously. "An army. Not a large one, but it looks like it was developed nearly overnight. It wasn't, of course, but if she can raise support that quickly..." She sighed heavily, but said nothing more, the prospect of more war weighing heavily on her.

"But she's a _pacifist_ ," Ahsoka asserted. "We knew she was building an army to defend her peace, didn't we?"

"Duchess Satine isn't the problem."

"Well, the Sith don't-"

"The Sith aren't the problem either." Tano fell silent and looked curiously at her friend as the Mirialan took a deep breath and organized her thoughts. "Reports from Mandalore say that the Duchess has fallen ill," she said slowly, carefully measuring her words.

"Ill?" the Togruta asked with genuine surprise. She had heard so many rumors, but she hadn't heard that. "Ill _how_? A cold? Or is this serious?" If it was serious, they may be thrust into a situation where they would need to deal with a Sith Lord that had his things messed with, just as Qui-Gon had said to avoid.

"We don't know, though several doctor's have been to see her, if the reports are to be believed." She waved off the notion as if it were unimportant. "The Senate is concerned. Duchess Satine is peaceful, but if something were to happen to her, if she were suddenly unable to rule the Mandalorians for some reason, there are very real concerns about who will rule in her place."

Ahsoka gasped. " _Obi-Wan Kenobi_."

Barriss rolled her eyes. "Maybe, but nobody outside of the Order is worried about that, and the Mandalorians are proud and would _never_ accept the rule of an outsider. They're worried about the Duchess' sister ruling Mandalore. Apparently, she's been sitting the throne in Satine's absence, and she's not at all peaceful. She's the leader of the Death Watch, and she suddenly acquired an army. If she's made the ruler of Mandalore-"

"You're right, that _is_ bad..." Ahsoka mused. "We can't fight the Separatists _and_ the Mandalorians."

"Especially not when the Mandalorians have a historic hatred of the Jedi."

The Togruta sighed wearily. The rumors were so much more fun than the truth. She suddenly missed the preposterous idea of the old, wizened Dooku trying to marry young, beautiful Satine, and no doubt causing conflict with her Sith Lord lover. "This is what we really need the Jedi for. If we could go and smooth things over with them-"

Barriss' blue eyes narrowed, and for a moment, they almost seemed... _hopeless_. Distrusting. "Even Satine doesn't like the Jedi. She doesn't want them anywhere near Mandalore. She doesn't trust them." The Mirialan's face fell. "Nor should she."

For a moment, _just_ a moment, Ahsoka could sense in her friend the same darkness that she saw in her Master. She quickly shook it off. The war was taking its toll, that was all. Even she felt weary, her natural suspicion obviously giving way to paranoia. It was nothing. It _had_ to be nothing.


	68. The Battle of Dathomir

Obi-Wan stood on the bridge of the _Negotiator_ and silently looked over the holotable where Dathomir was projected. He walked around the table, zooming in on one thing here, marking off something elsewhere, his golden eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed as he carefully took in all his assets, and the resources of his enemy. The Nightsisters had an unpredictable element in this fight, and Kenobi _hated_ not knowing everything about an opponent before he engaged them, but it couldn't be helped. If Sidious couldn't get Talzin's secrets, than Lumis sure as hell couldn't.

He looked up toward the front viewport to see the red planet hanging large before them. He hadn't been to Dathomir since he was a Jedi so very long ago, and back then, the natural nexus of the Dark Side was cold and oppressive, and it had sent him shivering and mewling before it like a child craving attention from an unfeeling parent. But now, he was strong, his Jedi life cast aside in favor of something much more powerful, more liberated, and truly in command of the Force. Being on the Nightsister's planet had weakened him before, but now the surging of the Dark Side would give him strength. Even just hanging in the sky above the planet, he could feel the pulsing of the Dark Side responding to the infinite well of the planet below. The Nightsisters may command strange, unknown magic, but they didn't control the Force the way the Sith did, and the Dark Side was Darth Lumis' dominion. Dathomir was not exempt from this fact because a clan of arrogant women believed they were strong. The Dark Side would come to its Master when called.

The blast doors hissed open and Cody walked in, the clanking footsteps of General Grievous following closely behind him. Just behind the cyborg came the heavy steps of Pong Krell, the Besalisk's four powerful arms clasped behind his back with binders, and a deep, furious scowl on his face. They walked up the few short steps to the command deck where Obi-Wan stood studying the hologram, and Grievous respectfully knelt, and with a sharp prod in the ribs with the barrel of Cody's blaster rifle, Krell growled as he followed Grievous' example. The clone took his place beside his Master and silently eyed the hologram with him. Neither the General nor the Besalisk moved, waiting for acknowledgment from Lumis that never came. Twice, Krell started to speak, only to have Grievous viciously backhand him across his large, crested face, and with his hands bound, there was little he could do, little he _would_ do in the presence of a Lord of the Sith.

"Cody," Kenobi said softly, his hand stroking his beard as he looked at the marks he had made on the hologram. "Report our status."

" _Negotiator_ , _Liberator_ , and the _Invisible Hand_ stand by at your command, sir. Our strength is the entirety of the 212th, the General's droid army, three rancors, General Grievous, and yourself, my Lord." Krell growled behind them, but Kenobi paid him no mind. Cody did, however, and glared over his shoulder at the Besalisk.

"Grievous." The cyborg rose and bowed when the Sith turned to face him. "How many droids are on the _Invisible Hand_?"

Grievous made a sound that Kenobi interpreted as glee, but Cody winced beside him. Despite being on the side of the Separatists, Cody's training instilled in him a deep hatred for droids. Grievous _wasn't_ a droid, but he was close enough for the clone's taste. "Two hundred fifty armored vehicles and one million battle droids." Kenobi frowned.

"The B1 droids are useless. How many _real_ droids do you have?"

Grievous gave a sharp, dismissive grunt, his clawed feet tapping a cascading metallic rhythm on the ground. "Fifty thousand that would be to your liking, my Lord."

Kenobi tapped his chin as he processed the information, and Cody quickly entered it into the holotable, and the information was displayed beside the image of the planet. "Krell." The Besalisk looked up and clumsily staggered to his feet, his bound hands and broad shoulders hindering his balance. "What did Dooku say about your future with us?"

"He said I must prove myself worthy of being his apprentice," he growled deeply. "So he sent me to you for this mission." The Sith's glowing eyes narrowed, and Krell quickly looked away and bowed his head. "My Lord..."

"Unfortunately, boys, we don't know the strength of the Nightsisters," Kenobi said in a commanding voice, his hands clasped behind his back as he turned again to face the holotable, and the General and Krell moved to stand around the large display. "They also have something of an unknown element, a powerful woman named Talzin. She claims to have no connection to the Force, but don't let that fool you into believing that she is anything less than a serious threat." He drummed his fingers on the holotable and looked through the hologram at Grievous and Krell, and he frowned. "Cody, remove our friend's restraints, if you will."

The clone did as commanded, and Krell sighed gratefully when the tight binders were released, his tense shoulders relaxing as he rubbed his wrists. "Are we supposed to be afraid of this witch?" the Besalisk asked, and Obi-Wan simply rolled his eyes.

"Of all the things Dooku could have had you do to prove your worth to be Sith, he sent you _here_. Murder is of no consequence to you, Krell, so he's giving you a challenge. If you want to live, you had _better_ understand that Talzin has powers we don't understand, and she will use them liberally to defend her home." That shut the man up. "Fortunately, we still have the advantage, because they don't know we're coming. Our mission here is to annihilate the inhabitants of Dathomir, not Just the Nightsisters, but the Nightbrothers as well."

" _All_ of them?" Krell seemed to croak, and Obi-Wan looked at him with cold disgust.

"What's wrong, Krell? Are clones the only creatures you are capable of murdering?"

"Clones were grown in a laboratory and they were made to die as we like."

" _All_ creatures were made to die as we like, Pong," Kenobi said, rolling his eyes. "And before you go on about it, _yes_ , this is genocide, and if that's too much for you, let me know so I can kill you myself." The Sith Lord grinned wickedly. "Don't worry. You'll feel much better about it after you've killed a hundred or so. I know I did when I fell, and I only murdered _one_ person, and right after, I was helping to dismember my Jedi brothers. _Trust me_ ," he said, laying a hand over his heart. "Bringing yourself to murder these people will be the easiest thing about this mission. The hard part is actually being able to kill them."

The Besalisk growled deeply. "Are these women really so hard to kill?"

"I don't know, that's the problem. Their powers are strange to me. I've seen what Ventress can do, but she is exceptional." He took a deep breath and slowly began to punch in information on the holotable, and three new files appeared in the air beside the other information. He motioned with his hand in the air and selected the three files and laid them out in a line in front of the projection of Dathomir. "Known assets of the Nightsisters are Asajj Ventress, Savage Opress, and Mother Talzin herself." He tapped each of the three files in turn, and their holographic faces appeared, and Kenobi studied them carefully, as if it were the first time he had ever seen them.

"Savage and Ventress were injured in their confrontation with you the other day, weren't they, my Lord?" Cody asked. Kenobi didn't move, keeping his gaze fixed on the information.

"Yes, but we can't count on that to slow them down. Assume they are on the planet, and approach them with the highest level of caution. They are dangerous, and this is their home. I won't have this battle lost due to arrogance on our part. They are Force sensitive, _all of them_ , and it will be an ally to them in this. Never forget that." Obi-Wan looked at his commanders as they nodded in understanding, and he pointed at the hologram, the spot he touched lighting up red against the blue image of the planet. "The Nightsisters make their home here, and there are Nightbrother villages located here," he pointed to each spot as he spoke, the new points lighting up red as he touched them. "Here, here, and here. There may be more Nightbrother villages that I am unaware of, but we will destroy them in our final sweep of the planet if they exist."

"You have a plan?" Krell asked, and Kenobi rolled his eyes.

"I didn't get to where I am by _not_ having a plan. We're going to take out the Nightsisters first. It's no secret who the real threat on Dathomir is, and if we can kill them first, the Nightbrothers will have none of Talzin's support. We have the element of surprise, and we're going to use it where it counts most. Grievous." The General snapped to attention. "We don't know anything about the Nightsisters or the strength of their clan, so you're going to draw them out so we can get a good look at them. Send vulture droids on bombing runs of their temple, and we'll land your forces nearby. There's a clearing in their forest I have used in the past that should be sufficient."

"I will bring my strongest forces," the General rasped, his voice reverberating off the metallic mask, but the Sith Lord shook his head.

"No, you will bring your _worst_ troops. We want to draw them to us, and we're going to lose a lot of droids. Let the B1 droids be torn to pieces as we study them, I don't want to deploy our elite until we know best how to exterminate them. Don't forget, overconfidence is a fatal weakness, and if Ventress is there, so much the better. She knows droid weaknesses, and she'll lead her clan right to their own slaughter. You will keep your elite on standby and deploy them when I give the signal."

Grievous bowed deeply. "It shall be done, my Lord."

"Cody. Bring an elite group of blaze troopers. Your objective is to burn their forests down. I've seen how they move in those trees, and I don't want them having that kind of advantage."

The clone grinned. "Lucky us. Bo-Katan just gave us a new flamethrower that the Death Watch has been using. We were talking about mounting them to the rancors."

"Do it. Just make certain the entire forest is incinerated." Obi-Wan smiled brightly at the Besalisk. " _Pong Krell_. Your task is simple. All you need to do is execute them all." The Besalisk said nothing, but he nodded in understanding. "After the Nightsisters have been exterminated, we will run a full sweep of the planet and execute the Nightbrothers in every village we find. Just remember this," Obi-Wan said dangerously when he sensed excitement from the men around the table. "We are here because of Asajj Ventress, Savage Opress, and Mother Talzin. Their attacks on the Sith will continue so long as they remain, and it will not be tolerated. All three of them have captured the attention of the Sith, and while Ventress and Savage may be failed apprentices, they are still powerful, and Talzin had dealings with _my_ Master. None of them are to be taken lightly."

Obi-Wan sensed their resignation and their determination, and he sighed heavily. "There's no sense in delaying any longer. Get to your stations and may the Force be with us."

* * *

The plan was executed flawlessly. Obi-Wan watched from the surveillance deck of Grievous' attack ship as the vulture droids began their bombing run on the Temple, and the Nightsisters were making the task _very_ easy. One of the benefits of commanding droids was that no matter the battle, no matter how far away, their visual receptors were always on and recording, storing a visual record of the battles they took place in, so there was always a way to retrieve and analyze every battle. They were never left lost and confused, like the Jedi no doubt were after the massacre on Umbara. A droid was always recording, and there would always be something for him to recover.

Kenobi now tapped into the live feed from the vulture command droid as they soared over what looked like a celebration, or what _was_ one, until rapid plasma bolts rained down on them, killing some and scattering the rest like ants as their home within the mountain was struck, sending rocks and pieces of their naturally carved stone statues crumbling down to the ground. With a few quick commands to the droids beside him, the vulture droid soared up high as the others circled around for another attack run, keeping its sensor's fixed on the Nightsisters as they regrouped, many rushing out of their Temple and some running back in, only to reemerge with arms full of weapons. Kenobi saw the unmistakable form of Talzin, quietly talking with one of the women before she turned and seemed to float to the safety of the Temple. The woman that had apparently been left in charge ignited two lightsabers, and she rushed off, the army of women following swiftly behind her.

 _Ventress_.

Kenobi flipped through the different visual feeds, stopping when he came to the ship's external visual readings, and he looked upon the droid carriers in the clearing below, their hatches already open and their droid soldiers marching steadfastly into the forest in tight formation as large tanks lumbered slowly along side them. He switched to the forward camera output when the ship lowered itself into the clearing and settled on to the ground, the ship hissing as it came to rest. Cody and Krell crouched by the exit hatch, ready to jump out and join the troops on the ground, but Kenobi kept the door sealed. This ship was bait, and it would be pointless to spring a trap before the prey was safely inside.

"I got a visual on Talzin and Ventress," Obi-Wan said as he rose from his seat at the surveillance station and past by Grievous' command chair, where the cyborg sat. "Talzin retreated into the Temple, but Ventress is out front leading the charge against us. I don't like it."

Grievous laughed menacingly. "Ventress is _nothing_!" he started, but the lower point of his skull-like mask was grabbed and harshly pulled forward by the Sith Lord, his golden eyes blazing and angry, and the cyborg was nearly pulled out of his seat as he hissed in pain.

"What did I say about _arrogance_ , Grievous?" Kenobi growled, and Cody rose from his place by the exit, a hand on his lightsaber in case he was needed to aid his Lord. "Besides, I'm not worried about Ventress, I'm worried about _Talzin_. That witch wouldn't abandon her people. She's up to something." He released the General, and the cyborg rubbed his metallic face with a groan of pain and frustration. "Open the hatch," he commanded to a pair of droids at the controls, and a moment later, the door began to hiss and whir as the locks disengaged and the airlock released. "You all stay here until I give the signal, make certain we are all on the same com frequency. Cody, you come with me. We need to have actual eyes on the situation."

With a nod, the clone fixed his helmet onto his head, grabbed his blaster rifle that was leaning against the bulkhead and slung it over his shoulder. When the hatch open, the Sith and the clone rushed out and ran into the forest, giving the clanking droid army a wide berth and keeping closely to the shadows. When they could hear the sounds of blaster fire, Obi-Wan and Cody climbed up into the dark, twisted trees and sat concealed among the branches and foliage. The forest was not particularly thick, and the trees were very, very tall, and they could see a long way down the marching droid procession. Red plasma rounds were fired from a hundred blasters as they clashed with the Nightsisters, and Kenobi could see purple energy raining down on the mechanical army from the tops of the tall, twisting trees that he recognized as the strange energy bows the Nightsisters used.

At the front of their army was the ferociously spinning twin sabers of Asajj Ventress as she cut a path through the droids, and Obi-Wan could feel himself swell with pride. She was _so_ well trained, so powerful that she was nearly an army unto herself. She may not have been Sith, but she was a credit to the Dark Side. It was almost a shame to ruin such a masterpiece. He watched her athletically leap around the battlefield, cutting droids down and clearing a path for the others to take clean shots from the ground and from the trees above, but even with a woman as powerful as Ventress, there were simply too many droids, a sea of metal soldiers against no more than a hundred Nightsisters.

Kenobi fished out the holodisc from his robes and activated it, the small blue image of Grievous appearing before them. "Grievous, we're looking at a force of about two hundred. Ventress is absolutely wrecking the droids, as we anticipated. They are perhaps four hundred meters from our present location, but their approach is slow."

"What forces do you want us to deploy, my Lord,?" Grievous said eagerly, and Cody had to stifle a laugh. Obi-Wan nudged him for silence, and the clone turned away, eyes fixed on the battle.

"None yet. We wait for her to come and confront you. When she does, we-" A sudden force slammed into Obi-Wan, nearly knocking him off his perch on the tree, and Cody quickly reached out and grabbed him, the Sith Lord tightly clutching the man's armored shoulder as he gasped for the breath that had been knocked out of him. It was the Force, sudden, insistent, _disturbed_ , unlike he had ever felt before. The Dark Side was howling, but not in caution or warning as it had done in the past. This time, it was _furious._ Anger like he had never experienced gripped him, filling him with such strength that as the Dark Side rushed to him, the bough beneath him began to splinter and break, and Cody had to jump up on to a higher branch as Obi-Wan quickly grabbed control of the Force. He felt it pull once again, stronger than before, but less frantic, less wrathful and more focused, and golden eyes shot up to look down the line of droids to where the Force was guiding him.

He could barely see it at first. It was just a small, green glowing spot in the distance, but as it drew closer, it became larger, more spread out, a quickly snaking trail of green mist that flowed through the air, branching out like roots as it engulfed the trees and was drawn into the large, hanging pods that decorated the thick branches in the forest. Obi-Wan jumped up to the higher branches with Cody, urging the man to climb even higher to get away from the mist that reached out even to the tree they sat upon, but the green haze didn't reach so high. There were no pods upon the uppermost branches. All of it was being absorbed into the pods. Obi-Wan leaned over his branch when he was certain that none of the sinister mist would reach them, squinting to get a better look at the pods below him as they began to glow, than shake, then violently begin to tear apart as vicious screeching filled the air.

Something dropped out of the pod and fell to the ground and lay still, and a moment later, it began to shake, pushing up onto skeletal gray arms and rising to thin, bony legs. Black, eyeless pits suddenly began to glow with green fire, and large, unhinge jaws gaped wide with feral screams, and Obi-Wan and Cody stared in disbelief and disgust as the mummified, decomposing body of a creature long since dead began to move toward the droids. The Nightsisters were raising the dead. Kenobi laid a hand over his chest and felt his heart pounding through his chest as he looked around the forest and saw the entire ground shifting and moving like a swiftly flowing river. The entire forest was alive with the undead, and there were _thousands_ of them.

They were _fast_. Faster certainly than they had been in life, certainly faster than any dead creature had the right to be, and they were _strong_ , hitting the droids like a wave and effortlessly tearing through them. Blaster fire showered them to no effect, and while they were being riddled with holes, sometimes so severe that limbs would be torn clean off, the undead felt no pain and continued unhindered. They swarmed along the droid forces and tore them asunder, cutting a path through the woods for the Nightsister army, and the women rushed toward the clearing where Grievous had set his command ship. A droid tank hovered close to the ground alongside the women, and a quick glance showed Ventress sitting in the exposed gunner's seat. Even without the Nightsisters' vile reenforcements, Ventress would have gotten through, as expected.

"Grievous," Kenobi snapped into the holodisc as he and Cody ignited their lightsabers. "We have a problem. The Nightsisters have reenforcements." He quickly looked behind him when he heard unholy howling making the humid air around them vibrate. "It isn't good."

Grievous rose from his seat. "How bad is it?" he growled, and Kenobi looked carefully down below and waited for the ground to stop shifting as the undead wave washed away from them and toward the Nightsisters not far off.

" _Bad_ ," he hissed, signaling with his lightsaber for Cody to jump down, and the Sith followed closely behind him, hitting the ground running and sprinting to run beside the clone, the two lightsabers lashing out at any straggler they happened to come across. "Deploy your best around the ship. Fan out as far as you can, but keep the wall at least five droids deep. We need to hold this line." He cut the com before Grievous could respond, and by the time he and Cody came upon the clearing, Grievous' elite had formed a perimeter along half the outside edge of the massive clearing, a wall of silver war machines threatening to close around any who entered. There was room for retreat, yes, if the Nightsisters turned to run back to their precious Temple, but there was no getting around the wall of advanced droids without becoming an easy target.

Kenobi and Cody ran past Grievous and up the boarding ramp, nearly crashing into Pong Krell as they barreled into the control deck, and Obi-Wan quickly punched in the proper frequency and commed Dooku. The Count appeared before him a moment later, his stern look dropping away to one of concerned as he saw an out of breath, disheveled Obi-Wan.

"I'm afraid to ask how things are going," Dooku said calmly.

Kenobi replied with a frantic, "It's barely begun, and Talzin has summoned an army of the dead to fight for her." Dooku's eyes widened in disbelief, but Obi-Wan paid him no mind. "I've sent you the frequency for our com channel down here. I want you to stay connected with us."

"Lumis, I'm not-"

" _The undead, Dooku_!" Kenobi shouted. "I'm not putting anything past her, and you better believe that you're her target right now. Stay connected," he barked, cutting the com and reeling on Cody and Krell, who stood nearby awaiting commands. "Cody, get your boys and the rancors and start burning this place down. There are bodies in those trees, and I don't want to risk another wave of reenforcements, and I'm willing to bet those withering bags of bones burn _really_ nicely. Get the forest on fire, and then put yourself between them and their Temple. If they manage to retreat, I want them to have to go through you first." Cody sprinted out of the room as soon as the Sith had stopped talking. "Krell, you circle around and get behind them. When we've lured them all to the clearing, you make sure they can't go back the way they came. They'll be caught between you and Grievous _,_ and I can't think of a worse place to be." The Besalisk grunted his understanding, and a moment later, he was gone as well.

Kenobi put both hands on the arms of Grievous' chair and took deep, calming breaths. He wasn't afraid. He wasn't even nervous. He closed his eyes and saw Dathomir, blackened with flames and ash, the bodies of gray skinned women, both long dead and newly slain unceremoniously scattered about the damp forest floor. There was silence, thick as the heavy mist in the air, and not a single living thing could be seen, driven away by the boiling presence of the Dark Side. The Sith would win this fight, and Kenobi knew it. Why else would the Force save Savage and Ventress on Serenno, if not to lead Kenobi to exact revenge on Dathomir's children? They were an affront to the Dark Side, with their vile magics, with their undead army, with their mystical leader that swore revenge upon the Sith, who the Force favored. This was the will of the Force. They were simply sent to destroy a pest.

Obi-Wan felt the Dark Side settle within him, a cold chill spreading through his arms and legs as he breathed deeply of the Force and felt it flow through his veins, coursing and pumping within his blood like a rushing river. He could hear Ventress calling to Grievous outside, and with a deep breath, he walked out toward the ramp to the battle waiting outside.

"Fight me alone, Grievous," Ventress said, her voice calm and commanding and so, so confident. In the clearing behind her stood her Nightsisters, both dead and living, all waiting anxiously while their leader spoke to the enemy. "Prove that you're the greater warrior. If I win, your army leaves. If you win, the Nightsisters will surrender to you." Kenobi stood in the hatch's frame, hidden in the shadows and listening carefully. Ventress was... _bargaining_. That was unlike her. Something was different within his old friend. Something had changed. He couldn't place what it was, but it was significant. Was she _really_ trying to save these women? Did she truly consider them to be family, though they have known each other for no time at all? He took a deep breath and stepped down the ramp, his long strides taking him to Grievous' side, his hand on the mechanical wrist stopping the General from drawing his weapons.

Ventress' eyes widened when Obi-Wan appeared, and he could feel her tremble through the Force. She had been confident before. Now she was afraid. Kenobi breathed deeply, his lungs filling with humid air and the smell of smoke as the forest began to burn. "Shall we make the fight more even?" He asked softly, drawing closer to Ventress, and the woman stepped back, her undead army screeching and hissing, her living sisters pulling back on their bows. Obi-Wan surveyed them, unafraid and detached. Living intermingled with the dead, but all he could see was an army of walking corpses soon to be rendered lifeless once again. In the end, all things returned to the Force. Nightsisters were no exception.

"I-I have no quarrel with you, Kenobi," she stammered, trying to sound more commanding than she felt, but her cracking voice did her no service. "My fight is with Count Dooku!"

"Count Dooku isn't here." Ventress pointed her red blade at Grievous.

"But his pet _is_! If this is the assassin Dooku would send to destroy me, than _fine_ , but don't bring my sisters into this!"

"Your _sisters_ ," the Sith spat, bitterness and anger filling him as he looked upon the woman. "I have been more of a brother to you than any of these witches ever have been, or ever will be! I have always looked out for you, Asajj. I have gone out of my way to protect you from Dooku when you failed and _deserved_ his wrath. I have tried to teach you and train you, and for _what_?" He glared at the woman, his chest tight and his eyes _burning_ with fury. "So you could turn those skills against the Sith?"

"The Sith betrayed me!" she shouted, lightsaber raised, the tip trembling in her shaking hands.

"And _you_ betrayed _me_!" He took a few more long strides forward, but this time, Ventress didn't move, and he looked into her wide, alert eyes, once a pale gray now a shocking ice blue. She _was_ changed. The Nightsisters had done something to her. "The Sith may have betrayed you, Asajj, but I was your _friend_! How could you not come to me when you needed help?!" She said nothing, but he watched those pale blue eyes quiver with emotion, and without thinking about it, Kenobi ignited his lightsaber. "Grievous won't give you a fair fight and you know it." The cyborg growled behind him, but was quickly silenced with a vicious glare. "Out of respect for our friendship, I'll give you the duel you want."

"...and you accept my terms?"

"My retreat if I lose, your surrender if I win, yes." He smiled wickedly as he ignited the darksaber, tossed it in the air and caught it in a backhanded grip, and Ventress didn't waste a second dashing forward and slashing at the Sith, Kenobi easily blocking the sudden barrage as he slipped into his preferred defensive style. He retreated against the vicious onslaught, his movements effortless as the Force guided his blades, following the blinding trails of red and predicting with perfect accuracy where they would be striking next.

Ventress _was_ different. There was a grim resolve within her that had never been present before, a sense of solidarity and fellowship that lent her not only fury, but... _peace_. Obi-Wan frowned as he looked within his friend, reaching out to sense the darkness within her, only to find it changed as well. This wasn't the blind fury, the consuming rage of the woman that had attracted the ire of Darth Sidious. There was anger, yes, but there was also calm, a peace that had _never_ been within her for as long as he had known Asajj. Jedi betrayal had sent Kenobi down the path to darkness, but Sith betrayal had seemed to turn Ventress away from it. Sure, she had two assassination attempts on Dooku, and he could sense in her that she wanted him to die, believed he _deserved_ death for what he had done to her. But through all of that, despite the anger he felt in her still, he could feel the Dark Side frantically scrambling to dig its claws within her and howling in outrage when it could not. The Dark Side sought to consume Ventress, and she would not be touched.

Ventress ducked down low, swinging her sabers at the Sith's legs, and he avoided them by jumping over her, lashing out with his red blade, and she only barely managed to swing her own weapon around to block it. The blow was forceful enough to make Ventress lose her balance and she fell to the ground, her twin sabers crossing above her just as Kenobi spun and brought the his full weight behind his next swing, the molten plasma sparks showering off the blades and hissing as they extinguished on Ventress' sweat-drenched head.

"Why did you turn away from me, Asajj?" Kenobi whispered, leaning in close and bearing his weight down, and the Nightsister's arms buckled, her elbows digging into the dirt as she struggled to keep the Sith's two weapons from plunging into her body. "Do you fear the Dark Side so much that you would run from it just as you began to experience true power?"

"I thought I had it," she growled through grit teeth. "Then I went deeper, and I grew stronger again, and I did it over and over until it consumed me! There is no bottom to the Dark Side, it just makes you crave more and more and it is never enough!"

" _Limitless potential_ ," Kenobi whispered in rapture and bore down on the weapon harder, and Ventress wrists buckled back, bringing his blade mere inched from her face. She swallowed hard, digging her heels into the soft dirt and sliding away, but he stayed with her. His wicked blade was a bit further away now with the adjustment, but it wasn't much better. "I look into the Force, Asajj, and it is _rife_ with darkness. This isn't only the best way, it is the _only_ way, and it is _magnificent_."

"It's a _trap_ , Obi-Wan!" she cried, her voice cracking as she looked up into the golden eyes of the man that had been the closest thing to friendship that she had ever had. "There is only death and greed and destruction on that path. Can you blame me for wanting to get away?"

Obi-Wan laughed harshly. "Do you truly believe you can escape the Dark Side, Asajj? Look around you. Look what your actions have wrought. You tried to get away by killing Dooku, and all it has done is brought the Sith to your home. The Dark Side will have its due, Ventress. There is no escape..."

Ventress' lightsabers hissed off and she swiftly rolled just as Kenobi's weapons struck the loamy ground. She rolled backwards, planted her hands upon the ground and sprung up into the air, twisting her body as she sensed the darksaber slashing around at her, and she could feel the energy radiating off of the weapon as it just avoided coming in contact with her leg. Her sabers reignited as she landed and she swiftly brought both around to sweep at the Sith, his backhanded darksaber guiding the blades away from him as he dropped to his knee. Ventress swept the sabers up in a wide arch to disengage from the black weapon that sparked against her own blades, the burning hiss suddenly ending when the blades lost contact, and in that moment, Asajj felt searing pain as Kenobi thrust his red lightsaber behind his left shoulder. She looked down to see the crimson plasma burning through her shoulder, and with a shuddering gasp, she dropped her lightsabers, the two weapons hissing off as they flew to Kenobi's other hand, his secondary weapon already secured back on its place on his belt.

Kenobi swiftly withdrew the blade, planted his hands on the ground and whipped his leg around, taking Ventress' feet right out from under her, and the Nightsister found herself on her back, the Sith's weapon at her throat and staring up into blazing golden eyes. Slowly, she moved, and Kenobi allowed it, keeping the weapon trained on her as she got on to her knees and slumped back on her heels. "We surrender," she said softly. Despite his victory, the Sith Lord did not look pleased.

"I never wanted to do this to you, Asajj," Kenobi whispered, and the Nightsister looked away from him. "You forced my hand. This is _your_ doing."

"...I know."

"I accept your surrender," he said, turning from the woman and facing his General. "Grievous. Kill them all."

Ventress' eyes flew open, and she was on her feet and running toward the Sith before she knew what she was doing, skidding to a sudden stop mere inches from the suddenly raised red weapon. "Kenobi, we had a deal! You said you wouldn't kill them!"

" _Did I_?" he hissed. "It was my understanding that I was to leave if you won, and if I won, your forces would surrender. The terms are unconditional, Asajj, and these are my terms. Your forces will surrender, and they will be _executed_. The Sith will not stand for repeated betrayals, and you have already attacked us twice. It will not happen again."

"Obi-Wan, _please_!" She grabbed at his arm when he turned away from her, tears in her ice blue eyes, and Lumis smiled at her kindly, reached out and stroked her pale cheek, and she shivered when she felt sympathy and understanding through the brush of the Force in his fingertips.

"The Force isn't done with you, Asajj Ventress," he whispered, pressing her lightsabers into her shaking palm, her other hand tightly grasping the large, burning hole in her shoulder. She was weak, far too weak to fight, and Obi-Wan leaned over and gently kissed her pale cheek. "Doom is upon you. Run, Ventress. Save yourself." He released her, and she fell to her knees, and the Sith Lord didn't look back. "Grievous, this has gone on long enough. Exterminate them."

The General's arms split into four as he drew and ignited his lightsabers, and in an instant, the undead army swarmed the cyborg when he advanced on Ventress, the creatures screeching and clawing at his metal plating, and with a snarl of frustration, Grievous hacked and slashed at the creatures, cutting easily through them. The droids advanced, opening fire upon the Nightsister army, and the women suddenly surged forward into the barrage of blaster fire when the two double bladed lightsabers of Pong Krell ignited at the far end of the clearing. Krell held his ground, his lightsabers spinning rapidly and easily cutting through any creature that came within reach, and the undead never stopped coming. He advanced slowly, jumping over the mounds of bodies when the dead began to pile up, hissing and writhing on the ground as they lay scattered in pieces. The magic that animated them still hadn't left the creatures, even after they had been bisected, even after heads had been removed from shoulders, and despite the heavy firing of the droids upon the crowd and the furious blade work of both Grievous and Krell, the undead swarm managed to break the droid ranks, and the carefully planned massacre devolved into the chaos of battle.

Kenobi groaned when the droids rushed in to engage the Nightsisters, and he ignited his second saber and joined the fight, careful precision strikes and quick movements seeing the Nightsisters, both living and dead, fall before the Sith. It was effortless, really, to lose himself in the Dark Side and allow it to guide his movements, wide arching slashes removing heads and limbs and cleaving bodies in two, swift spins and quick dodges keeping out of the way of the Nightsisters' energy weapons, quick deflections from his primary blade directing stray bolts of energy shot by the droids into the bodies of nearby women, and slowly, their numbers began to dwindle.

The com on his wrist began to flash, and Kenobi rolled his eyes, deactivated the darksaber and returned it to his belt, and fished the holodisc out of his robes. He answered it just as he swung his crimson blade down, cutting a deep, smoking trail through one of the women. He glanced quickly at the image, returned his focus to the battle, and quickly looked back, nearly dropping his weapon in the process and ducking swiftly to avoid an energy arrow from the Nightsisters bow. It was Dooku, his face covered in deep lacerations and bleeding profusely, his breath ragged and wheezing, his hand clutched to his chest, and he didn't need to say a word for Kenobi to know what was happening.

It was Talzin, and somehow, she was reaching through space and killing him.

"Lumis," he rasped, his deep voice cracking with pain and he devolved into a fit of labored coughing, and Obi-Wan's eyes quickly shot away from the holodisc, quickly scanning the battlefield and coming to focus on the hazy green mist that hung low in the air. He hadn't noticed it before, but as the magic left the corpses too damaged to continue fighting, it began to hang over the clearing like a shroud. He watched for a moment, his red blade moving mechanically as it deflected a bolt here, cut through one of the undead there, and saw the mist moving back toward the burning forest as if beaconed by some higher calling.

"Lumis," Dooku began again. "You must-"

"Stop Talzin, I know. Keep in contact, Dooku, alert me if it gets worse."

" _It's getting worse_."

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. " _Fine_ , contact me when you're about to die, then, I want to watch." He cut the feed and pocketed the device and sprinted across the clearing, his hand extended and lightning shooting from his fingertips and striking a wide line in front of him. The living screamed in pain, convulsing on the ground as they began to die, but the undead seemed unaffected, and it only served to draw their attention to him. He suspected such might happen, but it was worth a shot anyway. He cut through the undead as they rushed toward him, slicing off legs as they ran, arms as they reached out to him, heads if they got close enough, and in a few moments, he was rushing ahead of a massive throng that was ravenously following him.

He whistled sharply as he approached the swiftly spinning blades of Pong Krell, and the Besalisk looked swiftly to him and rushed to run at the Sith Lord's side as he passed. "Hold them back," Kenobi quickly commanded. "As many as you can. You won't hold them all, but do what you can to make them regret crossing you. I'm going for Talzin, make certain you bring Grievous and the droids to me when you are done here." Krell dropped from his side as he skidded to a stop, lightsabers held before him as he prepared to face the wave, and Kenobi ran into the burning woods.

With the trail of green mist in the air above him, he easily found his way back toward the Temple. He ran into Cody and his group standing watch just outside the clearing that opened up into the mountain that the Nightsisters called home, burned and charred bodies in heaps all around them, and Yoda let out a roar when he approached, his great claws raking the ground as he bounded toward the Sith, shaking his clone handlers off their feet with his sudden, jarring movements. His hand extended, he reached up and grabbed hold of one of the mighty horns as the rancor lowered its head and hoisted himself up on to the creature's armored helmet.

"Cody, the bulk of the Nightsisters are dead, but that doesn't seem to stop them from getting up and attacking us."

"I've noticed, sir," the clone said, pointing his blue lightsaber to one of the smoking heaps. "They've just kept coming, though not in the numbers we saw earlier. They don't much like fire."

Kenobi nodded. "The hoard is on their way. Keep them out of the Temple."

"Yes, sir."

"Are there many inside?" The clone shook his head.

"Not from what I can tell."

"I'm leaving you with the other two rancors, Cody," the Sith said as he stood atop the helmet. His hands grasping the two horns that swept back out from the creature's skull. "See that their Forces break. When Grievous gets here, command him to lead a sweep of the area. I want to make sure every single one of these witches is dead and stays that way." Eyes closed, he flowed the Force into the rancor beneath him, and the creature lurched forward, galloping at full speed into the darkness of the Temple, his horns colliding with statues and sending them tumbling down, his claws tearing at the foundations of homes that seemed a natural part of the cave around them.

The last time Kenobi had been here, it had been dim and difficult to see, but now he used the Dark Side to guide him, and the cavern was bright as day. They followed the mist, and as they drew closer to its source, he could hear women chanting in a language he did not understand. The mist disappeared behind a wall, the cavern coming to a dead end, but there was no such thing as a dead end to a rancor. With a wrathful screech, Yoda brought both his long arms up, his clawed hands balling into massive fists, and brought them down upon the wall, the stone and rock shattering on impact as though it was made of glass. He rammed his head into the opening, snarling viciously as his horns caught on the overhang, and Kenobi slid off the helmet, his red lightsaber igniting as he rushed into the small room, and his eyes narrowed as he saw Talzin, leaning over a caldron from which the green mist was originating. Next to her was an old, wizened woman, he chanting continuing despite the disruption.

Yoda suddenly howled as he was struck from behind by the energy arrows of the Nightsisters, and he reeled around, roaring as he charged. Obi-Wan felt the creature wasn't hurt, he was _furious._ He tugged at their Force bond and sent his own wrath and fury into the creature, sending the pale, hulking rancor into a dangerous, mindless rage with a single command within his mind: _kill them all_. Kenobi quickly looked over the room and met Talzin's eerie, silver eyes and he quickly reached out with the Force and grabbed the other woman, her crackling, wheezing voice screaming in protest as Obi-Wan pulled her toward him, the elder Nightsister flying through the air. He sidestepped out of the way and thrust his blade forward, impaling the woman on the glowing plasma, and her body shuddered as she swiftly died, the mist in the air dissipating as the source of the chanting was silenced.

Obi-Wan quickly thrust his hand out and Force lightning sprang from his fingertips and arched toward Talzin, and the Nightsister Mother met it with a barrage of lightning of her own, bright green in color and cracking with sparks as it collided with Kenobi's blue. He grit his teeth and pressed harder. _How_ could she be doing this? Talzin had said long ago that she had no connection to the Force, that she drew her power from Dathomir itself, and while that might have been true, Dathomir was a nexus of Dark Side energy, and the witch was _steeped_ in it. Her understanding of the Force was different, maybe even ancient, but it was the Force none the less. With a growl, he disengaged from his barrage of lightning and swiftly dodged out of the way, the green bolts striking and scorching the ground where he stood a moment ago. He brought his lightsaber up before him and blocked the arching green electricity as Talzin turned it upon him.

His focus restored, Kenobi pushed out with the Force, the explosive power of the energy he commanded pushing Talzin back, her skull-like visage shocked for a moment before her face hardened. The lightning ceased, and a green, protective force field surrounded the woman as she floated in midair, her body seeming to shift and waiver as if she were made out of the green mist herself. Kenobi pushed the Force at her again, but this time, it passed harmlessly through her. They were at a standstill, both ready to attack the second the other let their guard down, but it didn't happen. The comlink on his wrist began to beep, and without looking away from the Nightsister, Obi-Wan answered it.

"Sir," Cody said swiftly, the man breathing hard into the device. "The Nightsister army has crumbled, all their undead warriors just... _stopped_. They're dead, sir. All of them. Whatever you're doing in there is working."

"Fan out and check for survivors. Execute any you may find." He cut the com and Talzin slowly laughed, her dark, strange voice echoing in the small room.

"My Dark Jedi," she slowly drawled, her force field dissipating as her feet touched the ground. "How powerful you have become. And how _far_ you have fallen."

"Only to rise again stronger than before." He relaxed the grip on his saber, but kept it poised and ready. He could feel the Force being pulled in toward him and quietly filling him with power. He only needed a moment, and it would all be over.

"I thought we had a deal," she growled, the darker tones of her voice overtaking the lighter ones. "We were supposed to aid each other in destroying the Sith. And now you join them."

Kenobi shrugged, a carefree smirk on his face. "I can't help that they're right. And _you_ were never very helpful on that count." He pointed his lightsaber at the witch. "And now you crossed the Sith for the last time. You overplayed your hand, Talzin."

" _My_ quarrel is not with you, _Kenobi_ ," she said, drawing out the syllables of his name in such a way that it make the Sith Lord cringe. "Dooku is dying, and another comes for you. It is already in motion." Suddenly, the Force struck him, pulling at his mind and Kenobi could see the fires once again and the face of the Zabrak Nightbrother within them. This wasn't the brutal fury of Savage, this was the cold, burning hatred of Maul. He was alive. Obi-Wan could _feel_ it.

"How long have you known?" he gasped, and Talzin laughed. The question wasn't fully asked, but Talzin could sense his meaning.

"As I told you before, I can sense all my children, no matter where they may be." She laughed deeply when she saw the Sith's hand clutch tightly around his lightsaber as he pulled the Dark Side to him. "But that is not my fight any longer. You showed Ventress mercy. I can feel her. I saw what you did, and she lives because of you."

Kenobi scoffed. "You think allowing her to live was _mercy_?" He laughed harshly. "For Asajj Ventress, it would have been merciful to let her die beside the family she treasured more than anything. The Force still has use for her, and the Force is cold and cruel and without mercy."

Talzin began to say something, but a plasma bolt shot through the air and struck the woman in the chest, and she stumbled back. Kenobi rushed forward and brought his lightsaber arching down upon her, and he cut through hard stone as the witch's body turned to green mist and vanished into the air. Kenobi didn't know if she was dead or not. Dathomir seemed to have a strange way of disagreeing with the finality of death. Either way, he couldn't sense the witch anymore. He turned to face Cody, the clone walking carefully into the room, his blaster raised and pointed at the place Talzin had been a moment ago.

"Is she dead?" he asked, and Kenobi shrugged, kicking over the cauldron and spilling a green, bubbling liquid on the ground that hissed as it struck the stones.

"What does death even mean in this place?" he muttered, retracting his lightsaber and returning it to his belt. He pulled the holodisc out of his robes and contacted Dooku, the elderly Count breathing deeply, but evenly, and the younger Sith Lord smiled. "Better?" Dooku nodded wearily, and Kenobi didn't wait for his reply to switch off the device. He didn't understand what had happened here, what power these witches possessed, but he supposed it didn't matter anymore. The Nightsisters were dead.

"We await your next directive, sir," Cody said softly, and Obi-Wan sighed and ran his hand through his hair.

"Pack up the droids. We're headed for the Nightbrother villages and we get to do this all over again."

"Hopefully not _all_ of it." Kenobi shook his head.

"Without the undead nonsense, hopefully. The Nightsisters are dead. The rest are just animals." Cody saluted as he left, rushing quickly to do as commanded, and Kenobi looked over the room and felt the peace of the Force. As always, the Force was with him. He turned and left the room without looking back. He had a genocide to complete.


	69. Maul

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright guys, this one is a bit of a calculated risk, so...enjoy, I hope. Also, I'm really sorry about not responding to you guys. I read every comment, and I really take what you guys say to heart. But answering them all takes a while, and it takes away from my writing time, and I think that you all would like it best if I get these things out to you. I'll try to be better in the future. The rest of this fic is pretty much planned out, so I may have more time to respond. That's it! Enjoy!

He scuttled down the corridor, his body quivering in rage and fear and hunger and pain, his eight, misshapen, patchwork legs clinking over scrap metal and refuse from the furthest reaches of the galaxy. Everyday, more was delivered. Everyday, the planet shifted with the accumulation of garbage and filth. Everyday, the pile grew and grew, and one day, it delivered _him_. His rightful place. The low king of the galaxy's forgotten and discarded. His frantic clawing and clambering had created the tunnels deep within the ground, if it could be called that. Even as deep below the polluted surface as he was, there was no dirt or earth or sign of anything other than a floating ball of waste grown so big, it had become a world in its own right. He _made_ the tunnels, the lair beneath, and he feasted on the poor souls that feel below into his domain. Or, he thought he did. If he thought at all. Which he did not.

The voice called out to him again. He did not know this voice. He did not _want_ to know this voice. It sounded... _angry_. Everything sounded angry, sounded wrathful to his sensitive ears, every sound, every creak, every crack made him wince and flinch and scurry away in fear, keeping to the shadows in a frantic attempt to stay hidden, to remain undiscovered and left alone and in _peace_. He shrieked, tightly grasping his head as his arachnine legs slipped and stumbled upon smooth, worn metal and loose debris, taking him up walls and upside down in the tight, cramped network of tunnels. He never managed to get the grasp of these legs. He never thought he had control, _didn't_ have control over them, and he never did. They moved on their own volition because they weren't _his_. _His_ legs had been _stolen from him_.

He pulled at two elongated cranial horns, two of _many_ upon his head that grew upward and jagged, far larger than the norm of his species and made it look as though he wore a wicked crown. He had no recollection of how he had come upon these legs, no memory of who attached them, or who they belonged to. _If_ they belonged to anyone at all. If they did, the poor fool was dead. Mercifully dead. _Luckily_ dead. But he survived. He survived because he was _strong_. He survived because he was _hateful_. He survived because he was _nothing_. He survived because he was _unworthy_ of mercy. There was no mercy. Mercy was a delusion of the weak. _He_ was not weak. He was just nothing.

" _No_!" He snarled when he heard the voice again, closer than before, and he scrambled away when he saw the shadow of the man, tall and menacing and holding something... _something_. Sudden pain forced his chest to contract as he heaved a dry sob, the towering creature rounding the corner and bathing his tunnels with red light from the glowing stick he carried. He remembered...he _remembered_...

" _No!_ " he shrieked again, louder this time, and this time, anger gripped him, fear fading to the presence of rage and hunger and madness, and his eight legs carried him down one tunnel, cut across another to duck into a third, and he was behind the creature, and he pounced, mechanical legs whipping out and striking the humming stick away from the horned humanoid and bringing him to the ground, frantically clawing at his face as his legs fought to tear the metal away from his body. Metal always tore away from creatures like these. Tear away the metal and they were exposed, and then _they_ got to be afraid as sharp legs pierced into them, and _they_ got to die as their soft, fleshy skin was torn open. They were always soft under the metal. _Always_.

But they weren't always so strong, so aggressive, so _skilled_. The metal would not come off his chest, the sharp points of his legs would not pierce through him, and the creature's strong hands grabbed hold of his legs and used them to flip him over and toss him aside. The anger fled as fear took over, and he scrambled to right himself, and with screams and howls of terror, his many legs carried him down the corridors and away from the frightening thing in his domain. And _still_ it called to him, still cried after him, still _followed_. He grasped his head as he sobbed, his body writhing atop the unbalanced arachnoid body and the long, scurrying legs as he entered his lair, a large, hollowed out cavern where a raging fire burned in the center. He didn't know how the fire got there, who started it, who kept it going, but it was always there, always burning.

The yellow skinned creature entered this sacred cavern as well, and he felt himself begin to shake once again. " _No_!" he growled, his voice gravely and cracking. " _No, no, no, no_!" It was the only word he knew, the only word he could find himself saying. He _knew_ other words, but they were distant and foggy. They belonged elsewhere, to another man in another time. He snarled when the creature began speaking again, and as he twisted and turned upon his mechanical prison, grasping his head and pulling his horns, one word that was spoken came through clear.

 _Brother_.

" _No_!" he shrieked again, covering his hands with his ears and thrashing, the coarse bandages tightly wrapped around what was left of his body scraping and scratching at the sensitive skin underneath. " _No_!" He did not know this word. He didn't _want_ this word. It was for someone else and not for him. He was alone. He had always been alone. All there had ever been was rage and pain and fear and hate and hunger. There was never anything else. If there had been, he didn't remember, nor did he want to remember. And _still_ , the cruel creature said it again.

 _We are brothers_.

" _No_!" he shouted again, his rough, angry voice giving way to helpless, maniacal laughter that dissolved into hopeless sobbing, his hands clutching his head as pain and desperation settled upon him. " _No_. You don't know..." he whimpered, his voice high between sobs, and pain gave way to anger, as it so often did. "You don't know _anything_!" he screamed, his legs taking him backwards up the slope of one of the rounded cavern walls and scuttling behind a large, twisted piece of metal. He came around, rushing forward and stopping before the burning fire, the pit between him and the relentless intruder. " _Never_!" he growled, leaning over the blaze, and flames licked at his skin, but he did not flinch. Everything was always pain, _everything_. Nothing could hurt him because it already did, everything was already pain. " _Never_..."

He laughed again, a throaty chuckle that turned back into sobs, than back to laughter as fear and anger alternated within him, tugging at his chest and at his damaged mind. It was damaged. _He_ was damaged. His legs, his legs were one thing, but his _mind_...

He screamed between clenched teeth, a frantic wheeze as he struggled to dig within his mind, but pain and anger kept him from getting very far. He was nothing. He was _broken_. Again, the creature spoke to him, long sentences he could not seem to grasp, his legs flailing and slipping and knocking garbage around. He looked this way, that way, but not at the creature, _never_ at the creature. He clutched his head as he scrambled to a darkened corner, hunching over so far he could feel the stub of his torso lift from its fastenings. He felt the creature slowly approach, and he laughed frantically, his shoulder shaking as they turned into dry sobbing again.

"How long have you been here?" the tattooed face asked softly, slowly, and he understood the question, knew the answer.

"Years and years and years..." he chanted, his voice quiet, the frantic screeching and sobbing leaving it husky, but the rough, animalistic growl had vanished in the moment. He didn't remember, he _couldn't_ remember. Remembering was pain. Remembering was _hatred_. It made him strong, but he was not strong. He was _nothing_. He remembered, though. It was driven into him long, long ago. In another life. Another body. One that was _whole_. "Through victory, my chains are broken." He said it without thinking. He used to believe it. Then victory was taken from him. _Stolen_ from him. "The chains..." he growled. "The chains are the easy part." He felt his chest quiver, and he looked back at the creature behind him, and his voice cracked again with pain and emotion and fear. He was _lied_ to. He was never told what the darkness would do to his mind. He was never told that he was simply there to be used and consumed. He was never told where the real struggle was. He laid a long finger on his temple, his hands shaking and he grabbed at his head. "It's what goes on in here that's hard..."

He lapsed into sobbing again, his head aching as the creature spoke again. Again, the word brother. Again with _peace_. And _relief_. Peace was a lie. There was no peace. There would never be peace. He was taught this long ago, would never, ever forget this. Pain and anger and hate had consumed him and eroded his mind, but he would never forget what he _was_. " _Always_ remember I am fear," he said aloud to himself, his voice smoothing out as he used it, as he chanted the lessons from his past. "Always remember I am hunter. Always remember I am _filth_." His voice cracked, his arms trembled, and he gripped his head. He had learned this too. He had learned this when he found himself _here_. When he had been _changed_. When he had broken. When he should have died. "Always remember I am _nothing_." Finally cracking, he raked his long fingers down his tattooed face, his pained sobs renewed, and he growled as anger overtook him, the mechanical legs giving out underneath him. They were not _his_. They need not obey him. _His_!

"Your legs..." the creature had said, and rage unlike anything he felt before rushed through him. It was...familiar. He did not remember this rage, this intensity, though he immediately felt it was always there. He snarled as he remembered. This sensation was not new. This sensation was _always_. When he thought about what was stolen from him, his anger flared and allowed him to grip life and hold on to it. It was all anger and rage that kept him holding life, kept him snarling and raging and existing. A burning loathing so deep that it staved off death itself for one purpose. One day, his wrath would come to brilliant satisfaction. One day, he would pay this injustice back a thousand fold. _One day_.

" _That scum! He took them from me_!" he snarled, his wrath allowing him to draw up his strong torso and give life to the legs beneath him, his hands clenched into fists so tight that his entire being shook, the tips of the mechanical legs clattering on the heap of scrap. " _He took them_!"

"Who? Who took them?"

" _Jedi_..." he hissed, rage and hate dripping off every single syllable, his head pounding in pain as his hatred took form within his broken mind and was given a name. " _Jedi..._ " he said again, softer this time as silent, seething wrath overtook him, a deep pit that had been growing within him for years and years, though before had no focus beyond clinging to life in hope for a future where he would avenge his wasted life. Now, this newcomer, this... _brother_ had allowed him to find center in a place beyond simply living, and his tattered consciousness had offered him something to cling to. _Jedi_. He shivered and bent low, his body shaking as clarity returned to him.

The creature said something again, but he did not listen. He could not listen. A single word was repeated within him, over and over and over without end, forcing him to see nothing but the focus of his wrath. "I must ask for mercy, Master," he muttered, but quickly shook his head. "Mercy is a _lie_ , a delusion of the weak to make themselves strong. I ask not for _mercy_..."

Again, the creature spoke, and he grabbed the vile, hated thing by the neck and threw him against one of the many scrap plies, and he bore down on him, raised up to his full, towering height on eight long, thin legs. "Pain and hatred and anger and _nothing_ , and through the filth, through the grief, _Jedi_!" he snarled, his red hands wrapping around the intruder's neck and he looked into pale yellow eyes. He remembered eyes like those. Eyes like his Master. Eyes like his own. His grip loosened, hands sliding away from the creature and balling into fists that he held out before him. "Revenge," he said softly, his rage focusing once again, and for the first time in as far back as he could remember, he felt the cold, wrathful calm of obsession. "I must have revenge."

* * *

 

Savage had searched for weeks for his brother. Weeks alone in a galaxy he didn't understand, looking for a brother he never met. The Sith did not prepare him to _deal_ with the galaxy. They taught him to rule with fear. The Nightsisters did nothing to prepare him for it either. They just taught him to obey. His life with the Nightbrothers also did nothing for him. They taught him how to fight, yes, but the Sith taught him better. They taught him to...submit. After all, the Nightsisters would have no use for him, or any in his clan beyond keeping them as slaves if they wished, and to aid in the production of the species when the time was right. They had no further use after they had done their service to the Nightsisters, and they were killed after the child was born, unless the child was remarkable. Than they would do it all over again. Girls were raised as Nightsisters, taught to use the strange magic that they had commanded for ages. Boys were returned to the Nightbrothers where they would be taught to fight and be complacent slaves to the women that owned them.

Not even Talzin had prepared him for his task. She had simply sent him on his way with a magic trinket and the knowledge of a brother that could help him become stronger. He _had_ failed, after all, betrayed by Ventress and her schemes. He wasn't even angry at the Sith. He hated his Master, yes, but Dooku had taught him, promised to make him strong, refined him into a weapon, albeit a crude one, but tempering took time. Time he would never have because a Nightsister had chosen to use him for betrayal. The Sith had a right to be angry. The Sith had a right to demand his death. His Master, Darth Tyranus, for having been betrayed, and the other, the younger Darth Lumis, for having sensed betrayal, only to be proven correct. Now, because of his massacre at a Jedi Temple and Republic outpost on Devaron and the murder of the Toydarian king, the Jedi were after him, as well as the Sith. He needed a teacher to help him become stronger or he would surely die, and Mother Talzin had pointed him in the right direction.

And it had taken _weeks_ for him to find his way to the Outer Rim world of Lotho Minor. Weeks of following a faded trail with Talzin's magic, week of trying to avoid Separatist and Republic detection to keep away from the Sith and the Jedi. Weeks of watching out for the bounty hunters trying to collect the hefty price that had been set upon his head. But he had done it. He found the world, and he had found his brother. He found _Maul_.

Or, what was once Maul. What he found was a rambling, incoherent mess of organic tissue and poorly fitted cybernetics driven to madness by hate and rage and pain and isolation. And _this_ jittering, fearful mess was supposed to be the mighty Darth Maul? Apprentice to the Lord of the Sith until his defeat, this creature should have been magnificent. Instead, he was little more than a savage, feral animal, a beast driven to insanity by the Dark Side of the Force, clinging to the shreds of his life with the pure power of his singular hatred. He had lived, but such pain, such darkness had taken his mind from him. He could not learn from such creature, so Savage had the loathsome task of dragging frightened, angry, hateful Maul through his network of caverns and back up to the surface.

The struggle only got worse from there. Maul had sputtered and hissed in the bright sun, shutting his red and yellow eyes against light he had not seen in over ten years and screeching in pain and fury as his hands clawed the ground, his eight legs held together and hung over Savage's broad shoulder as he dragged him back to his ship. Once inside the bulky vessel with the door safely sealed, Maul had been released and immediately scurried to the cargo hold and hid among the mountain of crates, muttering to himself in his insanity, alternating between laughing and sobbing before returning to his ramblings. Savage let him be. There was nothing he could do for his brother, so he resolved himself to return to the one who had helped him to begin with. Mother Talzin could cure Maul. He was certain of it.

As they flew the many hours to return to Dathomir, Savage listen to the screams, the laughter, the wailing, the clashing of crates as they were knocked over and thrown about the cargo hold, and slowly, _very_ slowly, Maul's ranting he become quieter, more focused, until he began chanting only one word over and over and over again like it was his lifeline. Hours faded away, and all Savage heard from his brother was deep, consuming obsession as he hissed and muttered, gripping his head and rocking back and forth in his insanity.

 _Kenobi_.

Savage didn't know this word, this... _name_ , but he was certain he had heard it before, though he couldn't place from where. He must have heard it from Dooku. The Nightbrothers never had any need to discuss people outside the clan, and Dooku was always in talks with people, commanding an army and handing out targets to his assassins. He suspected this was the Jedi that had removed Maul's legs, filled his life with purpose and meaning as he was driven toward revenge. By the time they came out if hyperspace above Dathomir, the name had been said so many times, that Savage could have sworn that even in silence, he heard the name echoing in his mind as well.

" _Kenobi_ ," Maul muttered, the low hiss reaching Savage in the cockpit as he lowered the ship onto the planet that he hardly recognized. The red earth was black with ash, the dark trees burned to flaky, brittle charcoal, and even before he left the ship, the whole planet felt... _wrong_. Savage didn't particularly care, but there was a darkness here that he hadn't felt before, a very different feel in the Force from the strange grip of the Nightsisters. This was the Dark Side, pure, undiluted, pulled to the planet like light into a black hole. A loud, clanging echo sounded through the ship as Maul trashed in the cargo hold, and with a sigh, Savage powered down the ship and went back to fetch his brother.

"We're here, brother. Come."

" _Kenobi_ ," he snarled, pulling crates in front of him to hide himself from sight. Savage rolled his eyes. " _Kenobi_..."

"Fine. Stay here then." He slammed his fist on the controls on the wall, and the large, wide unloading door hissed open, the broad ramp extending to the ashen ground, and Savage stepped out into the cold, dark night. He gripped his arms against the chill. Dathomir had never been so cold, so dry, as if all the moisture in the air had been burned up with its forests. All around him lay bodies. Thousands of them. Old, ancient corpses, the cold, rigid bodies of the recently deceased, the dismembered pieces of droids all lay strewn about wherever he looked, the ash in which they lay untouched and undisturbed as if the lives of an untold number were simply cast away and forgotten.

A soft wind touched his skin, raising ash up into the air as a green mist swirled around him, forming and taking shape, though never fully forming. Before him, pale green and translucent, stood Mother Talzin, her hand extended to him, the expression on her ghostly face kind, sympathetic. "Savage," she said softly, her body slowly forming from the mist as she became less ethereal. A moment later, and she had fully formed, though Savage could feel that she was somehow changed. No less powerful, to be sure, but her mighty presence had been... _lessened_.

"What has happened here?" he asked looking about as the woman began slowly walking toward the ship.

"Dooku sent his allies to destroy us," she said calmly. "But we will survive. We always have."

"They are all dead?" he asked, and the witch nodded.

"The Sith revenge was more complete than I could have imagined. Their young commander was committed to our extermination." A sharp, piercing cry echoed through the vast, empty expanse, and Talzin looked toward Savage's stolen freighter. "You found him?"

"Yes," Savage growled softly, quickening his pace to stay beside the floating witch. "He is... _damaged_." They stopped at the ramp, peering into the cargo hold where they could see Maul's glowing eyes hiding among the crates. Talzin waved her hand in the air, green mist forming between her fingertips and shaping it into a glowing sphere, and it left her hand and drifted in toward the gibbering, twitching former Sith apprentice.

"Then let us fix what has been broken."

Talzin turned and began floating away back through the ash and smoke, and Savage watched in wonder as the ball of mist floated out of the ship with Maul in tow, his arachnoid legs unsteady and swaying as he followed entranced and reaching to grab at the light that led him. Savage quietly followed behind. He knew it was the right decision to bring Maul here. Even if the Nightsisters were dead, even if the Nightbrothers had been executed as well, Talzin survived, and Talzin looked after her own.

They walked the distance to the Nightsister's Temple and entered the cavernous ruin. Even this place did not remain untouched. There were bodies, or pieces of them scattered alongside long, deep gouges in the hard stone. Claw marks, from the look of it, and Savage couldn't help but wonder what sort of horrors the Sith had unleashed here. It was foolish to have angered them when they both seemed to be born from the Dark Side. Perhaps the darkness commanded by the Sith was simply different than that commanded by the children of Dathomir. Perhaps it went beyond that. This may have just been some foolish grudge between two powers destined to clash. Savage didn't know. The methods of the Nightsisters were beyond him.

They came upon an alter surrounded by broken mechanics and a glowing pool deep within the cavern, the same table upon which Savage was made into what he was now. He hadn't always been large and strong. Once, he was much smaller. Small like Maul, and far thinner, but Asajj Ventress had deemed him worthy, and he had been taken here to be transformed into a slave of her making. By _Talzin_. If Talzin had the power to turn a young man into a beast, than she could certainly turn a beast back into a man. Savage had been enhanced greatly by the Nightsister's magic, and now that same transformative power would be used to restore his brother.

With a quick touch of her long, pale finger to his forehead, Maul shuddered, rose up upon his back four legs and fell back on the black stone slab, his mechanical legs folding in toward his stomach as he squirmed, groaning in pain and bloodshot eyes rolled back into his head. His cybernetics shuddered, and than slowly began breaking apart and detaching, sliding uselessly to the floor until only his organic body remained, neatly severed just above the waist and covered with rough, scarred tissue.

"What now?" Savage asked, his yellow eyes roving over the pitiful half man as he groaned and gasped with pain.

"Now," Talzin whispered, drawing a circle in the air just above Maul's head, the green mist swirling and gathering and forming a round, shimmering disc, "we begin." She reached her hands through the pale green light, and her hands became shadows as they passed through and touched Maul's head, and gently, she pressed inside him. Maul's body tensed, squirming as the witch combed through his mind, and Savage watched with rapt attention as she removed her hand, a long, black swirling mist pulled out of the screaming Zabrak's mind, and with a look of disgust, she tossed it away, and dipped her hand back inside his head to repeat the process.

With a look of satisfaction, Talzin tossed aside the last shreds of the madness she pulled from Maul, and with a wave of her hand, the red body, veined with dark lines of corruption and covered in jet black tribal tattoos, rose into the air, the green mist swirling around him as he was engulfed. Gesturing wildly with her hands, the witch pulled wires and components from Maul's discarded legs and from the wrecked droids around them, and Savage watched as the woman wove together the wiring with Maul's body, the thin lines piercing the scarred stump of his torso and binding to muscle and bone and nerve. The plating and the bolts floated to cover the exposed wires, forming together and carefully connecting to build a pair of powerful, clawed cybernetic legs.

The mist intensified, and Maul's body shuddered as he began to scream, a wretched, unholy thing that made Savage shiver at the sound. The loosely fitted mechanical legs were suddenly covered in molten fire and hardened quickly to rough, jagged stone. As it fell away, the superheated metal of Maul's legs could be seen, a dark and shining silver that looked freshly and masterfully forged. He was slowly lowered back to the slab, his chest quickly rising and falling with pain, and as the mist disappeared, his breathing evened. Savage slowly, carefully approached his brother, looking upon the bright red skin, cleared of the dark black web of corruption that ran through him, his elongated, jagged cranial spikes reduced to the small, smooth horns that ended in sharp tips. His eyes opened, blazing yellow rimmed with red, the bloodshot whites of his eyes cleared, and Savage saw focus within him.

He looked up to thank Talzin, but the woman was gone. There was no mist, no sign of her presence at all, and for a moment, Savage thought that perhaps she was never there at all. She had to have been, of course, but were Maul not laying restored upon the slab, he would have thought her simply dead with the rest. Perhaps she was. Stranger things had happened on Dathomir.

Maul was staring at him. Carefully, tentatively, Savage asked, "Brother?"

A swift, strong hand lashed out and grabbed Savage by his chin, and Maul propped himself up with his other hand, moving the other Zabrak's face this way and that as he appraised him. A furious scowl came to his face, the fine muscles under his eye and beside his mouth twitching as he snarled, " _Brother_." He sounded almost...angry. Disgusted that he should have to address such a creature, but the feeling quickly passed when the red hand released his face and came to gingerly grasp his head, his eyes closing as he attained his bearings. It was expected, he supposed. Maul had known little more than fury for years and years.

He sat up, moving his metallic legs, clenching and releasing the claws of his feet and getting the feel of their function. They felt... _foreign_. But at the same time, they were _his_. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, drawing his cybernetic legs to his chest and gripping them tightly. "It has been..." he began, his voice soft and smooth, as it had once been long ago. "It has been so long, and my path has been so dark." He looked back at the man that called him brother and slid his legs off the slab. "Darker than I ever dreamed it could be." His clawed feet clutched at the ground, and slowly, he stood, only to fall to the cold floor with a hiss of frustration.

"But you survived," Savage said, coming around the alter to help the other to his feet, but angry yellow eyes told him to stay back. Maul pushed himself to his knees and slowly rose, swaying on the double jointed legs as he found his balance. He took a few tentative steps, feeling the weight of them, adjusting to their movements, and when satisfied, he turned to face the larger man.

"Of course I survived..." he hissed, voice low and angry and dangerous, and without another word, he turned and ran from the cave, Savage quickly following after him. It felt... _good_. Good to be running, good to be free, good to have his mind his own again. The Dark Side had ruled him for so long, consumed his mind until it was nothing so that he could continue clinging to life. He felt...himself. Ash kicked up with each step as he rushed out into the desolate expanse of a planet he could not remember. He breathed deeply, and he felt it, for the first time in what felt like an eternity. _The Force_. Dark and cold and oppressive, so unlike what he had remembered. He carefully took it's power within him, snarled in frustration when he found the flow to be slow, weak, a mere trickle off a mighty river. This was a muscle he had not exercised in a long time, and it had atrophied in its disuse. He would have to work to regain his former strength.

"My hatred kept my spirit in tact, even if my body was not," he said when he felt Savage behind him. "I was consumed by my pain, and my hatred, and I became a rabid animal, which is how you found me, _brother_." Rage filled him again. " _Discarded. Forgotten_. I have missed _so_ much..." Savage said nothing. He breathed deeply and touched the Force again. His tug was no stronger than before, but he still sat among it, could feel how it moved and pulsed with life. "The Force feels...out of balance."

"Yes," Savage said, carefully approaching the man. "There is conflict in the galaxy. A Clone War." Maul's face seemed to fall at that.

"I see," he said almost sadly, with an aching and a longing that Savage could not place. "So it has begun without me..."

"...you can begin again," Savage said gently, shuffling closer and holding his lightsaber out to the forgotten apprentice. Maul eyed it with envy, and Savage could feel jealousy, anger and hatred pour off of him in waves. Maul extended his hand, intense focus through his rage on his face, and the lightsaber shook, straining as it slightly began to float, and then shot quickly into the air, spinning into Maul's hand.

"I was apprenticed to the most powerful being in the galaxy once," he said, tight with cold, seething anger. "I was destined to become so much more, but I was robbed of that destiny by the Jedi, by Obi-Wan Kenobi." His yellow eyes narrowed as he felt the Force run cold.

"Then you must have your revenge, brother," Savage whispered, taking a step closer to the red skinned Nightbrother.

"Yes..." Maul said softly, a faint, cruel smile on his lips. This Jedi was alive. He _had_ to be. His fate, his place in the Force was _stolen_ from him. Surely the Force would keep this wretch alive. His future was clouded and uncertain, but once, he was promised to rule this galaxy, and now he would have that chance. After he killed this Jedi, after he set the Force back on its original course. He breathed deeply in his resolve. "Yes. We will start with revenge."


	70. Threat Rising

"There will be more innocent blood on your hands, Kenobi," Maul said, pacing before a line of terrified, crying villagers on the unaffiliated planet of Raydonia. "Unless you come here. _Face me_! Come alone, and if you do not..." His lightsaber ignited, and he spun, lashing out with it and the line of villagers fell as their heads were severed. "This world will _burn_." The holorecording ended, and silence fell heavy over the room, the grim feeling of the senseless loss of life keenly felt.

"Well," said Quinlan Vos, rising from his seat. " _This_ is awkward."

"Have some respect, Master Vos," Mace Windu warned, glaring at the Kiffar, but Vos just glared back.

"Why? This is what I've been saying for a month now! We thought it was a good idea to just do nothing and let the Sith kill each other, and _now_ look!" He gestured his hand in a wide, sweeping motion to point at the hologram, the image frozen on the vicious face of the murdering Zabrak. "Now we have _another one_. Sitting on our hands is what gave rise to the Sith in the first place! We need to go after them, we need to kill Dooku."

"You're talking about assassination, Quinlan," Luminara said softly. "That isn't the Jedi way."

"You're right, but the Jedi way isn't working! We've all agreed that if we end Dooku, we end the war, so what are we waiting for?!"

"That's assuming that Obi-Wan doesn't just take his place," Kit Fisto said. He attended the meeting via hologram, as did several others. The High Council was never complete these days.

Quinlan scoffed. "As head of the Separatist movement? That isn't going to happen, Dooku's too important, he's the pin that's holding the whole thing together. And besides, with Duchess Satine pregnant, there's no way he wouldn't just defect to Mandalore."

"He may be right about that," Luminara said, frowning. She disliked agreeing with Quinlan as a general rule, but it was very likely he was correct about their friend's attachments. That particular rumor had been confirmed less than a week ago, which simultaneously put fears about Satine's mysterious illness and Mandalorian succession to rest all at once. It also became something of a scandalous topic within the Senate over who could have fathered the child on the woman, though the Jedi already knew the answer to that one.

Mace looked extremely flustered when Vos shot him a superior smirk. "Who would even do this thing!" he cried, throwing his arms up in exasperation. "We've seen what happens when we put the Jedi against the Sith!"

" _No_ , we've seen what happens when we put Jedi against _Obi-Wan_. We're talking about Dooku here." Quinlan flashed Mace a cheerful grin. "He's not exactly in his peak."

"Peace, Quinlan," Qui-Gon said softly, his hands pressed together and his fingers at his lips, his eyes never leaving the holographic face of Maul. "We're off topic. This isn't the platform to plead your case. This isn't about Dooku or Obi-Wan, or their mysterious Master, it's about _him_." He pointed to the image. "Maul...I don't understand how he can be alive. Obi-Wan cut him in half."

"Well, he's got a pretty sexy set of cybernetics," Vos drawled, indicating to the sleek mechanical legs the Zabrak wore.

"They weren't attached immediately," Luminara said, her voice flat calm while most of the room began to grow frustrated with the Kiffar. "He somehow managed to survive that, so we are dealing with something unbelievably powerful."

Quinlan laughed loudly. "Well, the joke's on him, because Kenobi's going to be _pissed_ that he's alive." He folded his hands behind his head. "In this case, I think we should adhere to our previous policy of letting the Sith take out the trash. He wants to fight Obi-Wan." He shrugged. "Let him."

"We can't do that," Qui-Gon said softly. "He may be out for Obi-Wan, but he's murdering the innocent to do it. That makes this our business. We aren't Jedi if we don't stand against these injustices. He's a broken, unbalanced monster. We defeated him once. We can do it again."

"Excuse me, _we_?" Mace asked. "Who is _we_? And you may have fought him, Qui-Gon, but you _lost_."

"I do not fear death," Master Jinn said plainly. "And furthermore, I have learned from my last fight."

"You're ten years older!" Mace growled, but Qui-Gon simply shrugged.

"Maybe so, but Maul is, um... _half_ the man he used to be. I'm going. This is a fight I started long ago, and I need to end it."

"This isn't your fight," Mace insisted again, but the older Master was not backing down. "This is Obi-Wan's fight. I... _agree_ with Master Vos," he said in a low, frustrated voice, wincing when the Kiffar grinned broadly and waved at him. "Let the creature have what he wants. Let him face Kenobi alone."

Qui-Gon stood and shook his head. "This is my fight as much as it is Obi-Wan's. I lost my student that day. The rift between us may have begun before, but it was nothing that couldn't be repaired. To win, Obi-Wan reached out and embraced the Dark Side, and from that moment, he was truly lost." He looked again at the vicious image of the first Sith Lord they had known about in a thousand years, the Sith who's death had made Obi-Wan a legend, and he felt the calm, insistent push of the living Force within him. He knew what he must do. "All of this started with Maul, and now, it is time to end it."

Windu groaned loudly. He was growing tired of all these rogue Jedi. "You aren't going alone, this is clearly a trap."

Qui-Gon shrugged as he began to leave. "He said to come alone or he'd burn the planet. I won't have those innocent lives on my hands."

"On _your_ hands?" Windu repeated, standing from his seat as the other Master began to walk from the room. "He asked for _Obi-Wan_ , not you!"

"We can't just let this massacre stand, we need to respond. And we can't give him Obi-Wan, so we're going to give him the next best thing." Qui-Gon stopped, then turned around and smiled at Mace. "After all, I'm the Jedi Master he failed to kill. I _think_ he may want to see me."

Windu stuttered for a moment before he managed to call to the retreating Qui-Gon, "I'll have you know, I'm opposed to this!"

"I'd be disappointed if you weren't!" Qui-Gon called back, sticking his hand in the air and waving as he left the Council chamber. He stopped and waited for the elevator, his eyes closed and in deep concentration, and when the doors slid open, he stepped inside, and Luminara Unduli and Quinlan Vos stepped in after him.

"Are you really doing this?" Luminara asked when the door had hissed closed and they began their descent. "Are you really going to fight this Sith alone when you lost the last time?"

Qui-Gon scoffed. "No, of course not. Obi-Wan's coming with me."

Quinlan laughed loudly when Luminara's jaw dropped. "Man, I somehow don't think the Council is going to approve of that."

He looked deadpan at the Kiffar. "Quinlan Vos. When have you ever known me to follow the will of the Council?" He shrugged. "And besides, now I'm _on_ the Council, so, from a certain point of view, I'm not exactly disobeying, am I?"

"Do you hear yourself when you talk?" Luminara asked, a hand held to her temple as she sighed heavily.

"I follow the Force," he said softly. "Obi-Wan and I started this together. It's only right that we finish it together. It was meant to be this way. I can feel it." He smiled slightly when the door opened, and the three friends stepped out together. "This is where the Force is leading me. I cannot ignore it."

Quinlan shrugged. "I agree with Qui-Gon." Luminara shot him a disbelieving glare. " _What_! He's right. You want the job done right, get a Sith to do it. They're not afraid to get their hands dirty."

Luminara scoffed. "You sound like you _admire_ them. Don't forget what evil the Sith have done in the galaxy. Obi-Wan may have been our friend once, but he's one of them now."

"Can't he be both?" Vos asked, and Luminara bit her lip and looked away. Despite her calm, collected demeanor, she was conflicted as well. She didn't answer. She didn't know what she could say.

"He's no friend to us," Qui-Gon said softly. "There's too much dark in him. He's lost to the Jedi, but..." He sighed and ran a hand through his long hair. "He's not lost to _us_. Obi-Wan isn't a typical Sith, if there is such a thing as a typical Sith. He has embraced darkness, yes, but he also seems to have embraced _all_ aspects of passion, not just anger and hate. He has shown that he cares about those he is attached to, and he clearly feels love. His emotions run deep. That...speaks well of him."

"Not just well," Luminara cautioned. "He's a murderer."

"I'm not saying he isn't," Qui-Gon said quickly. "I'm not even saying that he can be saved, or redeemed. That isn't up to us. I'm saying that he can be _forgiven_ , and that is something we have control over."

"You can't just forget all the evil he's done, Qui-Gon," the Mirialan said, crossing her arms over her chest when the older man broke away from them to venture down the hall that lead to the hangar bay.

"I'll never forget," Jinn said sadly. "He's caused so much pain, so much death, not just for us, but for the galaxy. I can never forget. I never want to forget." He smiled. "But I _can_ forgive him. I'm the Master that failed him, and I will never have redemption for that. As far as I'm concerned, there's nothing I can blame him for that I can't trace back to myself. I want his forgiveness. I can't have it if he's dead, and if I can get that from him..." Qui-Gon looked away from the other two Jedi. "He'll never again walk in the light, but the dark path doesn't need to be as painful for him as I'm certain it is."

"... _well_ ," Quinlan said, clapping his hands on the old Master's shoulders. "I wish you the best of luck. Do give my regards to Obi-Wan."

"I will."

"May the Force be with you, Qui-Gon Jinn," Luminara said softly. "I hope you know what you're doing..."

* * *

"If you're going to rule Mandalore, you need to look the part, _Sith Lord_."

Kenobi held his arms out, rolling his shoulders and feeling the light weight of the armor that had been specially crafted to integrate with his tunic and robes. In typical Mandalorian fashion, their armor was a masterwork, crafted with such attention and care that it almost felt as though it were a part of him. The black and red chest piece rested over his tunic and could be seen from under his fine, black robes, the shoulder pauldrons sticking out from underneath the silken fabric. The result was a perfect, elegant fusion of Mandalorian armor and Sith tradition, and the woman had somehow made the entire thing perfect by giving him the preferred Mandalorian helmet, the outline of the T-shaped visor painted red on the shining black, and it was crested with horns that swept back along its curved top, a practical imitation of his rancor's own horned head.

"You _spoil_ me, Bo," he said quietly, placing the helmet on his head and looking at the woman sitting on the throne, surprised at how little the visor limited his vision. Not that he needed it. The Force could substitute for any of his senses, should the need arise. He had come to see Satine, but the Duchess hadn't been sleeping and was taking the day to recover. The younger Kryze wouldn't let him go see her, and had instead diverted him with _this._ All in all, it was a worthy distraction. "How do I look?"

She shrugged. "It will look better on your son."

"You should have made it for him then. But smaller." He drew his lightsaber, the red blade thrumming gently as he made his way through one of the forms. He was pleased to find that the armor did nothing to hinder the smooth, graceful movements or the faster, more precise ones, and his robes kept any sound the armor would have made suitably muffled, allowing him to move in silence as he did before. Bo-Katan had outdone herself. _Again_.

"A warrior should have armor," she said sternly. "And a warrior king needs to look imposing on the field of battle. It's _shameful_ that you're rushing into this war with nothing on!"

"Hey, hey, it's not like I'm not wearing anything!" he said as he took off the helmet and tucked it under his arm, indicating to the robes he wore, but Bo-Katan just scoffed.

" _Robes_. You know, my people wear robes when they wake up in the morning _before_ they don their armor."

" _My_ people don't _need_ armor," Kenobi said smugly, mounting the stairs to stand before the substitute queen on the throne that was not hers. " _My_ people are cloaked in the _Force_."

"Oh, _really,_ " she snapped, standing up and bringing herself mere inches from the man, gazing fearlessly into the glowing golden eyes that terrified so many. "How effective were your robes and the Force when you got _shot_?" she asked, jabbing her fingers into his side where the deep, pale scar from the plasma round stood as a constant reminder to pay attention. He grunted in irritation and stepped away from the woman, who smiled triumphantly. "If you were sensible and were wearing armor, you wouldn't have almost bled to death on some backwater Republic world."

"Remaining vulnerable keeps me cautious."

"Remaining vulnerable keeps you _stupid_."

"My focus slipped!" he cried, running his hand through his hair in frustration. "It won't happen again."

"And in case it does," she said, rapping her knuckles on the chest plate, "then you will have armor to protect you." She crossed her arms and frowned. "Besides, Satine won't shut up about that injury of yours. She's extremely upset, and she's worried about you, and the doctor says that stress is bad for the baby!" She glared, jabbing her finger in his face. " _So you're wearing the kriffing armor for Satine and your baby_."

"Alright, alright!" he said, throwing up his hands in surrender. "You win. Sith Hells, you Kryze woman always get your way, don't you?"

"Always," Bo-Katan drawled, falling back into the throne and crossing her legs. "But that's your fault too."

"Yeah, yeah..." Kenobi smoothed his ruffled hair. "She didn't tell me she was worried..."

Bo-Katan rolled her eyes and groaned. "Of _course_ she didn't tell you. She doesn't want _you_ to worry about _her_. You have a war to fight, she doesn't want to burden you. So she talks to _me_ instead." She crossed her arms and glowered at him in frustration, but he could sense that she was... _pleased_. The woman was harsh, but she cared deeply about her family, and that seemed to extend to Kenobi as well. "That little Sith Spawn is making her... _emotional_."

Kenobi winced. "Good emotional, or bad emotional."

"That depends on who you ask, but for you?" She shrugged. "Good, I suspect." She growled. "Be prepared for the worst, though. We have half a standard year of emotional terrorism ahead of us. Again, your fault."

Kenobi rolled his eyes and ignored the comment. "This whole thing would be better if you found a way to keep this helmet from messing up my hair," he said, holding it up and silently admiring the craftsmanship of it while Bo-Katan glared at him.

"You are _so_ vain."

"It isn't vanity! I'm _immaculate_. Appearances are important."

"And if you keep that thing on, you will appear _fearsome_. What more could you want? And besides," she said slowly, rising from the throne again and sauntering over to the Sith Lord. "Satine _likes_ it when you're a bit disheveled."

"...she does?" Katan grinned and nodded, and the Sith Lord quickly rubbed his hands through his hair when he heard the door at the right side of the throne slide open. He thrust the helmet into Bo-Katan's arms and caught Satine when she rushed at him, gripping her tightly and lifting her off the ground.

"I didn't know you were here," she mumbled into his neck when he had finally set her down. "Why didn't you come to me immediately?"

"I only just got here, and Bo said you weren't feeling well." Satine's eyes narrowed with annoyance as she slowly dragged he hand down his neck and to his chest and stopped when she felt the hard, light armor under his robes. Immediately, he could feel all the tension inside her melt away in a wash of relief, and any offense she may have felt was gone.

"Did you do this, Bo?" she asked softly as she stroked the Sith Lord's cheek, and her sister scoffed loudly.

" _Please_. He's an outsider and a scoundrel. He isn't worthy of wearing it." Bo-Katan flushed deeply and looked away when Satine looked at her, and she stepped to the side, hand extended toward the throne as she relinquished it to the Mand'alor. With a smile of appreciation, Satine took her seat, inhaled deeply, and relaxed into her place.

"You were gone so long," the Duchess said, holding out her hand to Kenobi, and he gently took it and brought it to his lips. "I was getting worried that you were avoiding me."

"I was avoiding your sister," he slowly drawled, placing both hands on the arms of the throne to close the Duchess in. "She is _extremely_ hard to deal with."

"Don't talk about me like I'm not here, _Kenobi_!"

Satine smiled softly as she ran a hand through the Sith's blond, ruffled hair. "I've tried without success to teach her manners."

"Don't bother, you're wasting your time." Bo-Katan started to loudly object until Satine pulled her lover down and kissed him fiercely, and the warrior swiftly turned away, her face a red to match her fiery hair when hands began to wander as they softly moaned. She missed the days when they had to be discrete and keep their affair a secret, but now, the day when the child would begin showing was not far off, and the speculation of guessing who the father could be was far worse than knowing it belonged to a notorious Separatist commander. Rumors were _always_ worse, and the galaxy would find out eventually.

"Were you fighting in the war?" Satine asked when they parted, breathless and leaning her forehead against his.

"No, I was doing the work of the Sith," Kenobi said as he reluctantly let go of her and sat himself upon one of the throne's wide arms, grinning when the Duchess' hand came to rest on his leg. "The Force is disturbed. I've been seeking out the cause of the disturbance so I can right it."

"Any luck?"

"Not as of yet, no. Our strongest lead was something of a dead end. I need to meditate on my visions to see if I can learn something new. "So..." he drawled slowly, running his hand down her thin arm. "For the next few days, I am _all_ yours..." He leaned down to kiss her again, but stopped and pulled away with a growl of aggravation when the grand main doors of the throne room opened, and a large number of the Mandalorian Death Watch rushed in. Satine leaned forward in her seat, Bo-Katan and Obi-Wan standing close beside her with their hands upon their weapons. The Death Watch captain strode forward and bowed deeply.

"Mand'alor, our forces have captured a Jedi in the city." Obi-Wan felt rage roll off the women beside him, and he gently laid a calming hand on Satine's shoulder, could feel her anger slowly fade, could feel the strong rapid pulse of their son slow as he was soothed. If there was danger here, he would have felt it. The Force was tense, yes, pulled at him with warning, but it had been like this since Ventress was betrayed by Dooku three months ago. If _anything_ was wrong on Mandalore, if there was anything at all that would be a threat to the family he had made for himself, the Force would waste no time in crippling him with the knowledge of it.

"Bring him before me," Satine said firmly, and the soldiers began parting to allow the prisoner to come through. "Another one of your friends?" she whispered to Kenobi, and the Sith closed his eyes, reached out with the Force, and felt it quickly recoil, the Dark Side rushing to hide deep within him. It felt like being punched in the gut, and he grimaced.

"Not a friend, no..."

The guards all stood to the side, and two of the Death Watch threw the Jedi to the ground before the shallow steps to the throne. Hands secured tightly behind his back, Qui-Gon Jinn looked up with deep blue eyes and a small smile on his face, and Kenobi felt himself shake with rage. Satine, however, relaxed, despite being none too pleased to have a Jedi in her city _again_.

"Where did you find him?" she asked quietly.

"On the docks, my Queen," the Captain said. "He walked off the ship and immediately contacted the authorities to surrender himself."

"So you didn't _capture_ him," the Duchess growled, her blue eyes narrowing in anger at the Captain. "You simply escorted him."

"Y-yes, my Queen, I-"

"There is an ocean of difference between the two!" she snapped, and Obi-Wan couldn't help but grin in pride at the fierceness of this woman. Their son was making her strong, aggressive, uncompromising, and he could feel the child giving voice to his mother's will through the Force. The smile was wiped off his face a moment later when he could feel Qui-Gon's infuriating presence and watched him look at Satine curiously. The Jedi felt it too. "Sister, perhaps a less _boastful_ Captain will serve better in the future. I will not have my captains touting their accomplishments where there are none to be had."

Bo-Katan smirked and crossed her arms over her armored chest. "I agree. I'll see it done, Mand'alor. You," she commanded harshly, pointing at one of the guards that had detained their prisoner. "Release the Jedi. And you fools had better think twice before your actions cause a diplomatic incident with the Republic." The soldiers rushed to do as commanded and the Jedi was released, his confiscated lightsaber thrust back into his hands, and a moment later, they were filing out of the room as Qui-Gon stood, rubbed his wrists, and bowed deeply to Satine.

"Thank you, Duchess," he said softly. "It's good to see you again."

"What business do you have with me, Qui-Gon?"

The Jedi shook his head. "None, Duchess. My business is with Obi-Wan." The Sith Lord immediately bristled, the hairs on his neck standing on end as he felt the Force begin to thrash around him. There was an urgency there like he hadn't felt before. This wasn't the mad panic after Ventress left this Sith. That had been a warning. _This_ was aggression, a pure, raw drive toward destruction, and it took everything in Obi-Wan to control it. His golden eyes fell to Qui-Gon, and the thrashing eased into a cold, bitter resignation. Whatever it was, the feral wrath of the Force wasn't directed at the Jedi. Still, the Dark Side recoiled from the aging Master. That, at least, had not changed. Qui-Gon was still held dear by the Force and was not to be disturbed.

Kenobi stepped forward. "What do you want?" he demanded, trying to sound cold and aloof, but the very real concern he felt shone through.

"I have a message for you," Qui-Gon said softly, fishing a holodisc out of his robe and holding it out to the Sith Lord, who seemed to recoil from it.

"Is it from your Council?"

Qui-Gon shook his head. "The Council doesn't know I'm here." Cautiously, Kenobi walked down the steps to stand beside the towering Master, and he snatched the holodisc out of his hand, glaring at him suspiciously. Kenobi activated the disc and played the message, and in the moments that followed, his entire world erupted in pain. It was Maul, _alive_ , and walking around on cybernetic legs, a red lightsaber in his hand and the lives of terrified people in his grasp. He heard the words but could not process them through his rage, saw the villagers, men, women, and children, struck down in an instant. The longer he watched, the more distant he felt, the more removed from his own body as the Force calmly asserted control over him. All the frantic warnings, all the sleepless nights, all the relentless visions led to _this_ , as he knew it would. As he had sensed long ago.

Maul was alive, and he was a real and serious threat. Not just to Kenobi personally, but to the flow of the Force itself. He was a rabid beast, and he needed to be put down. Darth Lumis had no rival, _would have_ no rival. No Jedi had ever had to die so much as Maul.

The holodisc cracked and the image of Maul vanished as the little device began sparking in Kenobi's crushing grasp. Qui-Gon watched with intense interest as blind rage filled his former student, the Force in the air itself becoming twisted and corrupted with darkness as his blinding golden eyes became stained with jagged red. Qui-Gon strengthened his own defenses, his own focus intensifying to keep the oppressive darkness away from him. In this state, Obi-Wan was _dangerous_ , far more than he had been before, and a lesser Jedi may crack under the intense, infinite power of the Dark Side. Even now, Qui-Gon could hear it whisper, calming and soothing and promising power and pleasure and freedom despite the frigid chill he felt deep within himself. It was truly tempting, if only for a moment. How easy it would be for someone to simply reach out and touch it, just for a moment, and it would be over. Once in, the Dark Side was no easy thing to be rid of, and there were very few records of fallen Jedi that had returned to the light.

While Kenobi heard the words Maul spoke, but did not listen, Satine _did_ , and the moment the image disappeared, the Queen was on her feet, her heart beating wildly and her blue eyes wide and frantic. "Obi-Wan, what was that?!" she demanded, pointing to the broken device in his hand, but Kenobi did not answer. He simply stood, staring at the place where the image of Maul had been a moment ago. " _Obi-Wan_!" Still nothing. With a nervous whimper, Satine rushed down the steps and threw herself against him, one hand over his heart and the other cupping his bearded cheek. Glowing eyes fell to her face, and slowly, the blood red receded back to pure, bright gold.

"That," Kenobi said, smiling slightly, but it was forced and distant, "was the Sith Lord I killed on Naboo over ten years ago."

"... _what_? How is this possible!"

"...I don't know."

Satine reeled on Qui-Gon, and he had to take a step back from the furious woman. Even _she_ was exuding the Dark Side in thick, strong waves, and the Jedi reached out with the Force to tentatively touch her, making the darkness coming from her thrash and rage with greater intensity. With Kenobi, such an action sent the Dark Side into hiding, but with Satine, it just made her _angry._ "When did this happen?!" she demanded, her hands clenched tightly at her side, and the Jedi could hear twin blasters prime their charges behind him. _Bo-Katan_. He took a deep breath and raised his hands, taking a few steps away from the Kryze sisters. Of all the people in the room, it was the _Sith_ that was the least dangerous at the moment.

"Peace, Satine," Qui-gon said calmly. "I came as soon as we got the message, against the wishes of the Council, I might add. This man is a real threat. I couldn't allow Obi-Wan to _not_ know about it."

Satine scoffed loudly, her temper spiking even higher, and Qui-Gon narrowed his eyes and looked within her. She felt _Force sensitive_. " _Nobody_ is a threat to Obi-Wan!"

"He is a threat, Satine..." Kenobi said softly, his hand absently stroking his beard as he thought and fought with the Dark Side for control. Satine took a deep, shuddering breath and looked at the Jedi.

" _Where_ did this happen?" The dark pulsing had not stopped. She couldn't have developed Force sensitivity. This feeling was coming from the _child_ , though at this stage, it was indistinguishable from the mother. Qui-Gon frowned. This new life was _frightfully_ strong already.

"Raydonia," he said softly. "It's a small farming planet in the Belsmuth sector."

Obi-Wan's eyes snapped up to Qui-Gon, and they looked almost... _worried._ "Belsmuth...that's the next system over, he is practically on our doorstep!" His heart was pounding in his chest. How much did Maul know about him? Certainly not much, since he sent his message to the Jedi, but in all of the galaxy, it seemed like more than coincidence that he would land so close to Mandalore.

"Belsmuth..." Satine said softly. "I've tried to bring the sector into my alliance, I want to surround the Mandalore sector with allies."

"Satine, we approached Raydonia a few months ago," Bo-Katan said, stepping away from the throne and holstering her blasters. "The entire planet is sparsely populated by small farms. They didn't join with us because they have absolutely no knowledge of what's going on in the galaxy. We told them they needed protection from what was out there, but they insisted that they were fine. Nothing ever happens on Raydonia, it's too remote."

"Which is why it was targeted," Kenobi said softly. "In a galaxy at war, what better way to get the Jedi's attention than the slaughter of the innocent?"

"We need to be more forceful with worlds like this in the future," Satine said, looking down at the floor until Kenobi began to head toward the door at the right of the throne. "Obi-Wan? Where are you going?"

"Raydonia," he said, his voice tight and tense with barely managed anger, and a moment later, the Duchess had thrown her arms around the man to stop him from leaving. It worked.

"This is obviously a trap, Obi-Wan, and if you think he's threat-"

"I'll go with you," Bo-Katan said, grabbing her helmet from the floor beside the throne and putting it on her head. "I'll rally the Death Watch, we will take care of this threat together."

"No." The statement was final, but Satine was having none of it, her eyes narrowed in anger, and Kenobi sighed. "This animal, this... _Maul_ seems to have a talent for not staying dead, like all Children of Dathomir. If we all go to kill him and it _doesn't_ work, if we somehow fail, than he's going to know I'm connected to Mandalore. It will draw him here, and the last thing I want is that monster close to the people I love."

Satine trembled, her eyes filled with tears, and Obi-Wan had to look away. Bo-Katan had been right about the woman being emotional. She was usually much more guarded than this. "You can't go alone. I won't let you."

Before Kenobi could say anything, Qui-Gon stepped forward, put his hand on Satine's shoulder and quietly said, "I'll go. Obi-Wan and I started this together. It's only right that we finish it together."

"Uh, _no_. That isn't going to happen, Qui-Gon." The Jedi simply shrugged. "He asked for me alone. I'll be _fine_."

"I will not let you face that beast alone," the Jedi said softly. "I failed you against him once. I will not sit by and fail you again."

"I care nothing for your failures, Qui-Gon Jinn!" the Sith snarled viciously, but the Jedi remained unmoved. It was foolish to go alone, he knew, and Maul was a real threat, or the Force would not caution him so strongly about him. He had visions for _years_ that hinted toward this possibility, but he had seen nothing in terms of the outcome. It was... _unsettling_. And Qui-Gon _was_ powerful. So powerful that the Dark Side, in all its fury, shrank away from the blinding light of his presence. He had yet to figure out _why_ , what it meant, what his old Master had possibly become, though he felt it was important. And something about this felt... _right_. He growled and ran his hand through his hair. "And the Jedi sent you alone, even though the last time you engaged him, you nearly died?"

"As I said, the Council doesn't know I'm here. The Jedi _didn't_ send me," Qui-Gon said, a slight smile on his lips. "They cautioned me against this. I came because the Force guided me to you."

Obi-Wan scoffed. Qui-Gon's whims had led Kenobi to the Dark Side, but...on reflection, that _was_ the will of the Force. "Why are you doing this..." Kenobi asked through clenched teeth, and Qui-Gon drew up to his full height.

"Innocent people are dead, Obi-Wan. This is as much my fight as it is yours. I know he said the planet would burn if you don't come alone-"

"I don't care."

"But _I_ do," the Jedi said firmly. "I will not stand by while a madman is allowed to kill the innocent, and I somehow don't think he'll mind if I'm there as well." A small smirk came to the Jedi's lips. "After all, it's very likely he thinks me dead. I think he could do with a shock or two."

Obi-Wan took a deep breath and closed his eyes, his heart skipping when he felt Satine's small hand in his own intertwining their fingers together. "You can't allow that beast to have what he wants," she said softly. "But if you go to Raydonia with the might of your army like I _know_ you are thinking about, than he's going to run, and you won't find him until he wants you to." She smiled and planted a kiss on his cheek. "You have a chance to end this now, and he may think it's on his terms, but _you_ get to decide the rules of engagement, my love. You can't risk scaring him away, not if he's a threat."

She was correct, of course. The slightest inkling that he didn't come alone, and Maul would run like the mad dog he was. "Qui-Gon," Kenobi asked softly. "How big is the ship you came in?"

"Not very. It's a Jedi starfighter, it's nothing special."

"Pilot and gunner's seats?" The Jedi nodded, and the Sith Lord smirked as the Force roared in satisfaction. "Let's go. I'm driving."


	71. Flames of Raydonia

He _wasn't_ an idiot. As soon as he was in the pilot's seat of the Jedi starfighter, he had contacted Cody to inform him of the situation and commanded him to fly the _Negotiator_ to the Belsmuth sector and drift just outside the Raydonia system. It was close enough for the dreadnaught to effectively monitor the system for outgoing ships, but far away enough to keep from alerting Maul. It was likely the former Sith had a ship on the ground, and it was a very real possibility that it could pick up the presence of a ship as large as the _Negotiator_ if it was too close. With any luck, the fight would be over on the ground. After all, it would take a few hours for the _Negotiator_ to arrive from Mustafar, and he didn't want to rely on his men picking off a small, single ship. He believed they could, but the likelihood of a successful escape always became exponentially greater when in the air.

He closed his eyes as soon as they were clear of Mandalore, his hands on the acceleration and the yoke as he surrendered his body to the Force, allowing it to direct them to Raydonia through real space instead of making the jump to hyperspace. The jump would be so short it was hardly worth it, and Kenobi felt it necessary to take a much needed break for meditation in order to center himself and contemplate what it was he must do. It was very likely that Savage Opress would be present. They had been unable to find the hulking body of Dooku's former apprentice when they had slaughtered the Nightbrothers, and Kenobi found it highly likely that Savage had something to with that _something_ that Talzin had said was set in motion. Maul's appearance now could not have been a coincidence, so it was no coincidence either that Savage had been missing from among the dead.

It was a good assumption that Savage would be there to aid Maul, which made Obi-Wan grateful to have aid, even if it was not the aid he'd naturally choose. He was certain that he could best the two Nightbrothers on his own, but the Force had a strange way of allowing things to go horribly wrong, and he had learned his lesson about being overconfident back when he had failed to kill Mace Windu on Haruun Kal. It was not a mistake he would make again, which made him grateful for the help he had. Even if it wasn't ideal.

Dooku was too important to the war effort to risk, as was Grievous, and he wouldn't bring someone that wasn't strong in the Force to combat former Sith apprentices anyway. This was the sort of thing that he would have called on Ventress for, and he felt a twinge of pain in him at her loss. He...missed her. He briefly considered bringing Pong Krell, but decided against it when he considered what Maul _actually_ was. This was a creature that had made Darth Sidious turn his sights away from Mother Talzin. _Talzin_! The witch that rose an army of the dead and managed to nearly kill a Sith Lord from across space with hardly any effort at all. And _she_ was rejected in favor of an infant Maul. This man was not to be underestimated, regardless of how spectacularly he had failed on Naboo. Since Obi-Wan walked with the Force, Maul would be decidedly working against it, since the Dark Side was howling for his death. He would bend the Force to his will, uncaring of the way in which it flowed, as thousands of Sith had done before him. Which meant one very important thing to Obi-Wan.

Qui-Gon was in danger.

It was a problem and a complication that he didn't need, but there it was. Qui-Gon Jinn was something different, something he had never seen before, and as he slowly began to gain control of his visions, it became more and more clear that Qui-Gon stood on a delicate edge, not between dark and light, but between balance and chaos. The Force craved darkness, that much was already set, but Qui-Gon's life seemed to _support_ that dark balance. It was... _odd_. Unsettling, even, and Obi-Wan struggled to find the meaning in this. He could not, of course, such was the nature of these visions, but it was clear that Qui-Gon wasn't just protected, but he was a rare, treasured thing that the Force actually _needed_. Sidious had brushed it off, called it the last pitiful attempt of the light to cling to a place in the galaxy, but Obi-Wan didn't believe it. The Force had never led him astray before, and ignoring the will of the Force had invited destruction upon countless Sith in the past. His new Sith would be partners to a Force that already supported the darkness, and abusing a powerful ally was never wise. He couldn't understand why Sidious couldn't understand that, but it didn't matter. That lack of understanding would be what got him killed.

Like Sidious, Maul would care little for the will of the Force, or he would have simply died when he was cut in half like a _normal_ person. This put Qui-Gon in a significantly dangerous position, and it made it necessary to defend him. For the sake of the Sith, Qui-Gon Jinn needed to live. He didn't know why, but-

A gentle tug on his consciousness jerked him out of his meditation, the bright presence making the Dark Side hiss and rage and retreat into the depths of him where it could silently seethe. With a deep growl, Obi-Wan shut his eyes tighter, but the presence was still there, deep in his mind, and he couldn't _get it out_!

"Obi-Wan." His golden eyes flew open and his hands tightened around the control yoke. He _greatly_ disliked that the gunner seat was in position behind the pilot. He'd rather be watching the Jedi, but _not_ flying wasn't an option. "Obi-Wan."

" Didn't we agree to no talking?" Kenobi snapped as he looked over his shoulder at the calm, serene Jedi.

"I never agreed to that."

"Then I will tell you _once_ ," he growled. "Do not talk to me."

In the silence that followed, Kenobi breathed a sigh of relief. Than, the Jedi muttered and amused, "Why not?"

"Because I _don't_ want to talk to you!"

"That's fine," Qui-gon said with a chuckle. "You can just listen while I talk."

Kenobi growled, undid the flight restraints and turned in his seat to face the bemused Jedi. " _No_. I don't want to even know you're here, understand?"

Qui-Gon scoffed. "What are you going to do? Kill me?" _That_ got Kenobi's attention the Jedi was... _mocking_ him? It was as if he _knew_ his life was sacred, like he knew he could not be killed. That with this particular Sith Lord, he was... _safe_. It was a confidence that Obi-Wan didn't like that the Jedi had, but there was little he could do about it.

"...no. I'm not going to kill you, Qui-Gon, but that won't keep me from removing your tongue."

"Why not? Why won't you kill me?"

 _Why not_?! Kenobi stared in disbelief at the Jedi as a clever smirk slowly slid across Qui-Gon's face. _Why not_?! How _dare_ this Jedi question him! Did he have a death wish? Is that what he wanted, did Qui-Gon want to die? Or was he simply testing the Sith? He didn't know, and he didn't have a good answer, so he reached for a piece of the truth. "I don't indiscriminately murder, Qui-Gon, if that's what you're wondering."

"No?"

" _No_ ," he growled, his hand tightening on the yoke. "I'm not some butcher, that isn't what the Sith are about, which I'm sure will come as a shock to you ignorant Jedi. Murder is pointless if there isn't reason behind it. We'd just be animals otherwise." He stopped and chewed the inside of his lip as he thought, his eyes fixed out the viewport. "Death without purpose is a waste."

"Like what Maul did?" the Jedi asked, but Kenobi shook his head.

"No, no, those deaths had purpose. I don't fault him those ones. If I wanted to get the Jedi's attention, I would have done similar. I _have_ done similar." Kenobi laughed softly to himself for a moment. "I actually don't have any feelings toward Maul. I have no revenge to seek, no debt to settle, but he is a threat to the Sith and therefore must die."

Qui-Gon was silent for a long while, and Obi-Wan sighed softly in relief as he felt the Jedi's overly-bright presence slip away from the walls of his mind. Then, quietly, almost nervously, he asked, "But you _do_ seek revenge against me."

Obi-Wan slowly nodded. "I do. But the funny thing about revenge, Qui-Gon, is that I can _never_ have it if you're dead. Death is a mercy, and anyone who crosses me doesn't deserve such an easy escape." The Jedi was silent, his blinding presence cold and distant and _so_ bright that it was painful. It wasn't disrupting his connection with the Force, but it was making it shockingly difficult to concentrate. "And you?" he heard himself say. "I know it's not a very Jedi thing to think, but do you seek revenge against me? I have done _so_ much damage to the Jedi. I suspect you must."

"Many do," he said slowly. "I admit, it's difficult to remain impartial when your betrayal was so close and personal, not just to me, but to the Order as a whole. We have endlessly discussed what we would do with you if we managed to capture you. Most argue for execution. They feel you are too dangerous to keep alive." Obi-Wan laughed loudly at that, and Qui-Gon silently let him ride out his amusement. From Obi-Wan's perspective, it must have been extremely funny for the Jedi to adopt such a dark line of thinking. When the Sith had fallen silent once again, Qui-Gon softly added, "But no, I don't seek revenge. I'm a Jedi. I seek reconciliation."

Obi-Wan mindlessly engaged the autopilot and slowly turned in his seat and for a long while, just stared at the Jedi, fighting through the pain of just looking at him and keeping the Force held close. He remembered the last time he tried to touch Qui-Gon Jinn's consciousness. He saw eternity in the Jedi Master, and he was not willing to look into it again. "Reconciliation..." he said slowly, drawing out every syllable. "If you think you can bring me back-"

"I don't," he said swiftly, cutting him off much to the Sith's irritation.

"You _do_ understand that I'm a Lord of the Sith, right? What sort of Jedi wants to make _peace_ with a Sith Lord!"

Qui-Gon smiled faintly. "I've always been a bit out of step with the Council, as you well know." Kenobi's yellow eyes narrowed. "That frustrated you a great deal when you were younger, though, I suspect now, you and I will have similar views on many matters."

"I want the extermination of the Jedi," Kenobi said flatly, and to his satisfaction, Qui-Gon seemed to balk.

"W-well, I did say on _many_ matters." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He may well have been serious, but Obi-Wan had said it for shock value. "Perhaps on some matters regarding the Jedi as well. There are those in the Temple that call me Gray Jedi for my defiance of the Council, but I think that following the will of the Force should come above all else. Even following the Code."

Obi-Wan always knew this about his Master, but when he had fallen to the Dark Side, he did everything in his power not to think about Qui-Gon, and now, he was finding that he _agreed_ with the Jedi Master. "You know," he said softly, "it's that mentality of yours that put me at odds with you and drove me to the Dark Side."

"...I know. And I am truly sorry for that, Obi-Wan. But...perhaps it was the will of the Force." Qui-Gon bit his lip and looked away, as if the very thought pained him. "I can't imagine why the Force would want that for you. I've asked myself that _many_ times, but I've never had the gift of foresight that you possess."

"You believe it's the will of the Force that I fell?"

Qui-Gon slowly nodded. "I don't know if you were always destined to become Sith, but at some point, the Force pushed you to them." He closed his blue eyes, and for a moment, the old Jedi Master looked at complete peace. When he opened his eyes, there was a new fire in them, and Kenobi drew back, the light of his presence intensifying and making the Sith receded like a shadow before a flame. "The Force keeps drawing me to you, Obi-Wan. Time and time again, no matter where I am, it pulls me to you, and I have _never_ ignored the call of the Force. You and I are still connected, and perhaps this is why. Perhaps it's guiding us to finish what we started."

The light was blinding, and it was making his head hurt, making the darkness within him struggle and rage against the Sith's firm hold. "Perhaps," was all he muttered as he turned away from the Jedi and looked out the viewport and switched off the autopilot. Was _this_ how Qui-Gon planned to defeat the Sith? With _understanding_? It would never work. Besides, as Qui-Gon had said, his views were always out of step with the other Jedi. His views never reflected the Jedi as a whole, and they never would. They'd be dead before they could change. But not Qui-Gon. Qui-Gon would live. He _had_ to. Deep within his mind, he felt the Jedi Master's consciousness, that bright point of light, and he hissed, his hand flying to his temple with the pain of it before it eased into something... _soothing_. Old and familiar, like something long forgotten that had recently been found.

 _Their Force bond_.

It was there, a small, singular thread, barely a connection, but he felt it keenly, one among many attachments he had formed, so thin it was undetectable within the broad flow of his stronger bonds he shared with others. And now, he could feel Qui-Gon reaching out slowly, _carefully_ , and grabbing hold, making it stronger. Once, long ago, Sidious had formed a friendship with the Jedi Master Dooku, a connection that eventually led to the Jedi's fall to the Dark Side and his subsequent apprenticeship to the Sith. The lesson Obi-Wan had learned from this was not to cast aside anyone simply because of who they are. If someone could be of use, _use them_ , and this was no different. Qui-Gon was essential to the Force, to the plans of the Sith, to a thousand years of darkness in the Force under the careful guidance of the Sith. He needed to be held close, cherished and protected, lest that future fall apart. Qui-Gon wouldn't fall to the Dark Side. He couldn't. But he didn't need to. The Force already had a place for him.

With a deep breath, Obi-Wan relaxed and allowed Qui-Gon to strengthen their connection. He was well-versed in keeping his thoughts and emotions and intentions safely hidden away as part of Sidious' rigorous training, but to Kenobi's surprise, Qui-Gon didn't even _try_ to touch his thoughts or his memories. This wasn't a covert way to gain information, the Jedi Master was firmly dedicated to reenforcing the connection with his former student that he so suddenly lost. It was possible the intent was purely sentimental, but Obi-Wan sensed it was otherwise, though he could not sense what that could be. What he did sense, though, was deep concern for the Padawan he had abandoned, sorrow and regret for how things had ended, and understanding for what he had become. It wasn't acceptance, but Qui-Gon _understood._

He dismissed it as something that could be detrimental to the Sith. After all, all a Force bond was merely a connection between two souls through the Force. It anchored them together, and if allowed, it could be used to share thoughts, feelings, but it was never invasive. The Dark Side was required for that, and Qui-Gon Jinn was blinding light. Besides, the connection had been there all along. Obi-Wan had just been unable to see it until Qui-Gon lit it up like a singular flame in the darkness. He couldn't believe that he had missed it before, and as the connection so effortlessly deepened, Obi-Wan couldn't help but feel that this would not only give Qui-Gon a touch of the reconciliation he sought, but it would allow Obi-Wan to carefully monitor the old Jedi. After all, if he was to be protected, a connection through the Force could allow him to sense any danger that waited for the Master. It was a quick and easy way to protect this asset.

"What have you become?" Obi-Wan asked quietly when the silence began to ring in his ears, when the sense of peace the Jedi was projecting became too much. "I would look myself, but I remember what happened the last time I tried to enter your mind."

"There are some places even darkness can't tough, Obi-Wan." Kenobi tensed in a reflexive rejection of the Jedi, but quickly brushed the impulse aside. He wasn't being arrogant or superior, he just... _was_. "And you already know. You've been inside my mind, I let you in. You felt it."

"I don't know what I felt."

"Yes you do." Again, Qui-Gon was right. In the old Master, he had seen eternity, the infinite expanse of the Force and the promise of endless life. Qui-Gon Jinn had learned how to transcend death. Obi-Wan took a deep breath and held it, thinking if this could be some trick of the Force, some illusion of eternal life that stood as a warning to those that would seek to end him. It could have meant many things. That he shouldn't be killed, as the Force seemed to warn him, that he _couldn't_ be killed, as the searing brightness of his presence seemed to suggest. He turned in his seat to look at Qui-Gon and found him calm, comfortable, so unlike he had been when Obi-Wan had left the Jedi. He had grown and learned and _changed_ , just as Obi-Wan had, and Kenobi couldn't help but feel a great sense of relief. If all Jedi were like Qui-Gon Jinn, the Sith would never succeed. He'd have to keep his old Master close.

"You've discovered immortality," Kenobi said, and Qui-Gon nodded slowly, a knowing, secretive smile on his lips.

"I can't teach you. You would be unable to do it. No Sith can."

"I don't desire immortality," he growled, insulted that the Jedi thought he'd _ever_ want to learn anything from _him_. "The Force is protecting you, Qui-Gon," the Sith said softly. "I don't know why, but your death is so against the will of the Force that even the Dark Side recoils from you. Maybe I'm being misled, but I don't think so."

Qui-Gon seemed shocked, which Kenobi didn't expect. He _must_ have known. "I can't imagine what the Force would want with me..." he muttered, softly chuckling as he leaned back and crossed his arms. "I'm a follower of the Force, but I'm not exactly a very good Jedi."

"Maybe you are," Kenobi said quietly, averting his eyes when he felt that blinding light fall upon him again. "Maybe it's the Order that's lost their way. Maybe you're what the Jedi are _supposed_ to be."

"...maybe."

"Listen," Kenobi said swiftly, grabbing the back of his seat and twisting his body so he could look right at Qui-Gon. He was resolved. Qui-Gon Jinn wasn't a threat, was _never_ a threat, and a Jedi Master that was willing to go out of his way to _help_ a Sith Lord was worth keeping around. He'd never be Sith. He'd never be an ally of the Dark Side, but his former Master was a friend to _him_ , willing to put aside a world of differences in order to try to heal a wound that the Jedi had inflicted long ago. Once, Obi-Wan had thought it possible to make amends with the Master that had betrayed him, only to have his fall prevent that from happening. But _now_ it seemed not only possible, but worthwhile.

"You can consider us reconciled, Qui-Gon." The Sith hissed and shielded his eyes as the brightness intensified into pain, the Dark Side growling softly within him, not in fear or discomfort, but... _satisfaction_. "Or at least consider me _willing_. I don't know what you are, but if the Force keeps delivering you to me, there can be no mistake about what it wants."

"I agree."

"Then consider this," he said, his eyes narrowing and his voice cold and serious. "Maul isn't going to care that the Force wants you alive, and he's going to do everything in his power to kill us both, but _you_ are an easier target. You need to trust me, and you're going to need to let me protect you, because if you die..." Kenobi growled in frustration and turned from the Jedi, his hand tightly clutching the yoke and pulling back on the accelerator as they entered the Raydonia system. They'd be there soon.

"I'm not afraid of death," the Jedi said calmly, and Kenobi could feel his temper flare, the Dark Side roaring to life and coming out of hiding and no longer shrinking away from the light. The blinding brightness was still painful, still repelling, but it was now an ally, and the darkness sat safely in the shadows.

"You may not be, but the _Force_ doesn't want you dead, Qui-Gon. I'm going to kill that rabid animal, and if you are thinking about stopping me-"

"I won't stop you."

Obi-Wan stared at him for a moment, slowly tugged at their connection and heard the Jedi softly gasp at the sharp pull in his mind. Their bond, though still thin, was firmly established. "You're going to have to let me protect you, and that will require following my every command. Understand?"

Qui-Gon nodded. "There's light in you, you know," Qui-Gon said suddenly, and Obi-Wan rolled his eyes in disgust.

"Is this the part I get lectured?"

"No. You're a Master in your use of the Force, what right have I to lecture you?" Obi-Wan didn't answer, so Qui-Gon continued. "There's light and darkness in us all."

Kenobi scoffed. "You Jedi never admit to it."

"No, but that doesn't mean its not there. As there is light in you. I see it in your love for Satine and your unborn child." The Sith Lord tensed, the connection between the two straining with fury as the Dark Side viciously pulled at its Master, and Qui-Gon quickly let go, allowing the link between them to relax.

"Careful, Qui-Gon..." Kenobi warned. "My passions come from my embrace of the Code of the Sith. Don't attribute it to some fallacy of the light."

Qui-Gon nodded, and carefully put the matter away. It was the wrong approach. He took a deep breath and began again. "...do you know the gender?"

"...it's a boy."

Qui-Gon could feel the Sith Lord ease, the tension leaving him as his body relaxed, and he slowly returned to tending the fragile connection between them. "I could feel him in the Force. He's exceptionally powerful."

He could see Kenobi's chest swell with pride, and Qui-Gon couldn't help but smile as Obi-Wan began to talk, slow and guarded at first, and than freely as he grew more relaxed, more comfortable, was met with silent approval and quiet questions from the Jedi that had been like a father to him. The gap was far from bridged, but it was slowly beginning to repair itself. As a teacher to the rule-abiding Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon had been a failure in the end when it mattered most, but now, when the man stood on the ideological opposite of the Jedi, he was able to accept it as the will of the Force. Obi-Wan Kenobi would _never_ be a Jedi again, would never again walk in the light. He was steeped in darkness down to the very heart of him, but as Qui-Gon listened to him talk, Obi-Wan sounded so very human.

It was a far cry from the soulless monster the Council came to see him as. He was, as Quinlan had said a long time ago, just a man, a being worthy of compassion and understanding. Qui-Gon didn't forget that good and evil were real things, and that Kenobi had done his fair share of evil, no doubt more than any of them had realized, but it was a fallacy to believe that the Dark Side had killed everything Obi-Wan had been. It was warped, twisted into something dark and murderous, but he had also expressed a reluctance to kill without need and could be reasoned with by the right people. And Qui-Gon had always been a champion of those that the Council had seemed to brush aside. _This_ was how he would reach Obi-Wan Kenobi. It may not amount to anything for the Jedi, but Qui-Gon's failure had led his student to this. When it mattered, he had lacked the compassion, the understanding, the patience to properly tend to his Padawan's fear and insecurity when he had felt the Dark Side pull at him. The very least he could do was give this Sith the treatment he should have given his young learner. Qui-Gon would meet Kenobi not with violence, but with compassion. It was the Jedi way.

* * *

"He should have been here by now!" Savage growled, pacing restlessly like a caged animal while Maul leaned against the side of one of the thatch houses, arms crossed and eyes closed.

"Patience, brother," he said quietly, calmly. "I have waited so long for my revenge. I can wait a little longer."

"He's bringing help, I _know_ he is!"

"The Jedi won't risk the death of more innocent," Maul said, looking up toward the sky when he heard a distant rumbling of a ship entering the atmosphere. One of the may advantages of a primitive world such as this was there was no city to drown out the noise of ships, no collection of artificial lights to make it difficult to see. He had chosen the location well. There would be no help for Kenobi here.

Maul watched with apprehension as the ship drew near, and he finally spotted the small starfighter, grinning maliciously when he saw just how small it was as the ship set down in the fields just outside the town. He heard the whine of the ship powering down, and then there was nothing. No other ships were coming. Kenobi was here, and he was alone.

Rage overcame him, the bitter Dark Side roaring in anticipation and almost seeming to laugh with triumph as thick streams of deep, consuming satisfaction ran through him. The battle was already won. This Jedi, this _Kenobi_ couldn't stand against the fury of years and years of consuming hatred made manifest. His death would be beyond excruciating, and Maul would make certain that the Jedi suffered the way that _he_ had suffered. He would make this Jedi beg for death, and even then, the exquisite pain would not cease.

"Hide, Savage," the Zabrak said quietly, his entire body quivering in anticipation. "Remember what we discussed. I want him alive, he is _mine_ to torment."

"Yes, brother..." Maul watched as Savage dashed off, going to hide among the many small hovels that passed as homes on this pathetic planet. Behind him, the fields were burning, and would continue to burn until the town was consumed as well. Perhaps he'd make Kenobi watch him slaughter the rest of the people on this planet, make the Jedi keenly aware that his failure, his _weakness_ would cost the lives of countless innocents. The merciful and compassionate Jedi were tortured by such things, and Obi-Wan Kenobi would suffer like no other ever had. It was the way of the Sith, and Maul, despite his absence, was _Sith_.

His heart raced in his chest and his breath quickened as he saw not one, but _two_ figures slowly approaching, and rage consumed him. He did not expect the Jedi to bring help. The claws of his mechanical feet grasped the ground tightly as Maul's sharp eyes watched the Jedi slow when they saw him, and the taller of the two leaned over to speak to the smaller man. Maul felt his chest tighten, the Dark Side thrashing and furious and... _afraid_? No. He shook his head, his focus returning. A Sith felt no fear. _He_ felt no fear. He had lived too long with fear and doubt gnawing at his being to allow it to come to him now in his moment of revenge. But then, there it was again, growing stronger as the Jedi came into view, and his eyes narrowed in rage, bitter recognition coming to him.

He recognized Kenobi in an instant. He wore a beard now, but the man looked no older than the day they had fought, the day that the Jedi Padawan had left him for dead. He knew the face, had ten years to memorize it as it ran through his mind like an obsession in his madness, and now it stood before him. But he knew he would face Kenobi. What he wasn't prepared for was his companion. Tall, imposing, and much older than the shorter man, but no less recognizable.

" _Qui-Gon Jinn_ ," Maul growled in a mix of confusion and disbelief. "I _killed_ you. I gutted you while your student stood _helpless_ and watched!" He pointed at Kenobi, snarling and vicious and his hand shook in rage, but the younger Jedi simply crossed his arms and looked at him like he was... _bored_. The feeling returned. Something was wrong.

Qui-Gon simply shrugged. "You missed. What can I say. Your failure was more complete than you thought."

"A failure I mean to correct _immediately_ ," Maul snarled, whipping out his lightsaber and igniting it, his mechanical legs bending as he prepared to spring at the Jedi, but stopped suddenly when th air was sucked from his lungs. It was the Dark Side, wrathful and savage, swirling around him like a storm only a moment before, and now, it had suddenly left him, fleeing from his tight hold upon it, and the harder Maul grasped for it, the quicker it seemed to escape him.

He didn't understand. His wrath was consuming, his desire for revenge exploding upon him as he opened himself wide to the Dark Side and allowed it to burn him. It was what he was taught to do. "Open yourself to the Dark Side," Sidious had said. "Let it embrace you, consume you, and you will have infinite power." The Dark Side feasted on hate, on pain, on revenge, and Maul had all that to offer and more. It should have been enough to attract its attention and hold it, but the Dark Side had _fled_ , like a scavenger in the presence of a predator.

Kenobi began to laugh. Softly at first, and then louder as Maul's rage built once again, and the Zabrak could feel the darkness return. It wasn't the commanding presence it was before, but it was enough. "You aren't the only one with a mistake to correct..." Kenobi said softly, and Maul's lips curled into a vicious sneer, his focus returning and the Dark Side flooding back to him as his hatred intensified.

"For _years_ ," he snarled, "I suffered in unspeakable agony, driven to survive by a singular hatred of _you_. My revenge will be complete, Kenobi, and you will suffer far worse than I ever did."

"Oh really?"

Again, the tone was indifferent, almost bored, and Maul could feel the Force begin to pull away from him. With a cry of unbridled rage, he reached out and grabbed hold, imposing his will upon the Dark Side and forcing it into submission. It worked, and the angry beast thrashed violently against its chains. The Dark Side would serve him in this. _It would_. "I told you to come alone!" he shouted, pointing back to the burning village with his red blade. "They're all going to die, Kenobi. Every single one of the villagers on this forsaken planet will be slaughtered, and their blood is on _your hands!_ "

"I don't care." He could feel the Dark Side draw back, suddenly nervous and afraid, and Maul stared at the Jedi in disbelief. Had the war changed the Jedi? Was he considered such a threat that they were willing to sacrifice innocent people to bring him down? He didn't understand.

"W-what?" he rasped, his chest aching as he held his breath, the hand holding his lightsaber shaking with repressed fear and anger.

"I. Don't. Care," Kenobi said again, his voice cold and distant, and Maul could feel a sudden chill in the air. "Burn the planet. Kill them all."

Maul was speechless, and with a snarl of rage, his hand tightened around his saber, his claws digging into the ground as he watched Qui-Gon draw his lightsaber and ignite the blue blade. Kenobi did nothing. He just _stood there_. He saw Savage behind them, his lightsaber drawn, just as they had planned, and the vicious red blade came down in a wide, sweeping arc at the Jedi, Qui-Gon deftly raised his blade and easily defended against the strike, and Kenobi had gracefully sidestepped the man, and with an extension of his hand, the Nightbrother was struck with the full brunt of the Force and was sent slamming through the hovel behind Maul.

Teeth grit and anger rising, the former Sith pushed off the ground and rushed toward the Jedi, only to be thrown back with the same overwhelming force that had struck Savage, landing beside his brother in the dirt and quickly rising, his saber blazing in his hands and his rage growing with each passing second. He moved to charge the Jedi again, but Savage's hand quickly shot out and grabbed hold of his cybernetic leg, and the red Zabrak nearly tripped.

"Brother, wait!" Savage cried, his voice tense and frantic, and Maul reeled on him, his red and yellow eyes blazing with fury that was quickly doused when he saw terror on his brother's face. He looked back quickly to see that the Jedi had advanced, not quickly, but they were closing in, and he could hear them whispering to each other. _Strategizing_. He turned back to Savage, his other clawed leg closing around his arm and pulling him off with a growl.

"You will _not_ get in the way of my revenge, Savage!"

"Brother, that isn't your Jedi, that's a _Sith Lord_!" He felt the Force run cold, colder than before as Savage scrambled to his feet, only to kneel, his eyes averted from the Jedi. Maul drew up to his full height, taller than he had been with his own legs, and carefully observed Kenobi, his anger fading into curiosity. The night made it difficult to see, and the fire from the burning fields cast long, dark flickering shadows over everything, but as he narrowed his focus, as rage ceased to blind him, he could periodically make out the details of Obi-Wan's face with the right lighting. And when the light had given way to shadows, he could see Kenobi's eyes glowing yellow in the dark.

 _A Sith Lord_...

"Darth Lumis!" Savage called, his deep voice pleading. "Let us go! We have no quarrel with the Sith!"

"Darth Lumis?" Qui-Gon said slowly, looking at the man at his side. Kenobi took the Jedi's hand and vigorously shook it.

"Nice to meet you. Lord Lumis is _also_ acceptable. So is Master, if you like."

Qui-Gon snorted. "I think I'll stick to Obi-Wan, thank you."

Kenobi shrugged. "Suit yourself."

 _Darth Lumis_. Maul looked at him in disbelief, and slowly, he began to laugh. It was quiet at first, almost silent, before it grew into uproarious laughter, loud and unrestrained. The _Jedi_ had fallen to the Dark Side. The pulse he had felt when they dueled on Naboo had been no mistake, no momentary lapse. That had been the Dark Side, strong and pure, asserting itself over the Jedi Padawan, taking him in its clutches and allowing him the strength to achieve victory. It was _delicious_ , the notion that this Jedi, the first to be triumphant over a Sith in a thousand years, had fallen to th Dark Side to become Sith himself. This man had already suffered pain and hatred and agony, not as Maul had, but that would come as well.

"He's out of his mind," Qui-Gon whispered, leaning over to Obi-Wan, and he nodded.

"The Dark Side's consumed him, it's making him incredibly strong."

"Stronger than you?"

He shook his head. "No, but certainly more dangerous. When I move in, you move in, our window of opportunity to find him unbalanced is going to be _very_ small. His anger is giving him focus. We'll have to disrupt that."

"How?"

Obi-Wan smiled brightly up at his old Master. "By turning that anger to fear."

Maul suddenly struck Savage across the face, and the Zabrak fell to the ground, clutching his cheek. " _Get up_ ," Maul snarled, and his brother obediently did as commanded. "We have nothing to fear from this... _pretender_." Maul stood up tall, his strong chest puffed out in pride. "I was apprenticed to the most powerful being in the galaxy," he said, his voice smooth and even with pride. "I was trained by Darth Sidious himself to rule the galaxy beside him!"

Kenobi whistled suddenly. "Careful, Maul," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "Nuyak Meistras dartov'ne kaiszhol tikazi jiso vadintikash pagalyina." _My Master doesn't like it when his name is spoken_.

The arrogance and pride was suddenly sucked out of him as the color drained from his face, his yellow eyes wide as he listened to the ancient language he hadn't heard in over ten years. _Sith_. The Old Tongue. And Kenobi had spoken it with a grace, an elegance that came only from one who had submerged themselves in the language. He spoke it like he was born to it, his aristocratic drawl making the words of the Sith Lords sound fluid and natural, and it made his own command of the language seem clunky and childish in comparison. _My_ Master, he had said. Sidious was _his_ Master? Did Darth Sidious really replace him with a _Jedi_? If so...

He watched in fear as Kenobi took his lightsaber in hand and ignited it and a bright red blade hummed to life, and Maul began to realize that he had made a very serious mistake. Slowly, he backed up, Savage standing beside him and doing the same. All his triumph, all his rage, all his yearning for revenge had faded in an instant and was replaced with raw, primal fear.

"Do you recognize the blade, Maul?" Obi-Wan asked softly, advancing as the brothers backed up, their own sabers raised defensively. "The crystal came from your lightsaber." Kenobi smiled brightly. "You should have taken a cue from Savage. You should have kneeled."

"Kenobi-"

" _Obi-Wan Kenobi isn't here right now_!" the Sith Lord shouted, anger and hatred pulsing off of him, and Maul could feel the Dark Side drawn into the fallen Jedi like a vortex, those golden eyes staining with red as the Force overtook him. He had no other option. Grabbing his weapon tighter, Maul rushed at the Sith, his brother at his side, and their blades clashed in a shower of hissing sparks. He grabbed on to every shred of anger, every moment he had ever desired revenge, and it fueled him, giving him new strength, despite the Dark Side struggling against him to flee to a stronger master. He was _Maul_ , Darth Maul, apprentice to the Lord of the Sith, and the Force bent to _his_ will, was _his_ to command. His fury was his strength, and there was none in this galaxy more consumed with rage than him. Not even Kenobi, _Darth Lumis_.

He moved faster than he ever had before, was stronger than he had ever been under his Sith Master. His hatred and his rage was strong enough to keep him living long after he should have died, harnessing the power of the Dark Side to command his broken, dying body to continue living, and it had obeyed. Now, he had risen from death itself to stand here and destroy the one that had not only robbed him of his destiny, but had replaced him. He commanded the Dark Side to come to him, to serve him, and it obeyed, plunging within him and gripping him in its powerful, feral claws as he embraced the anger and hatred and rage and allowed it to consume him.

The moment was over. The fear had passed, and now Maul stood centered in the Dark Side, a raging beast in the throes of the Force, and Lumis hissed in frustration, easing off his offensive and slipping into easy defense beside Qui-Gon, the two wordlessly communicating through the bond that the Jedi had managed to strengthen between them. Maul was fast and agile, made even more so by cybernetic legs that enhanced his natural abilities and by the Force, which pushed him to even greater heights. Worse, he was cloaked in the Dark Side, and despite his best efforts, Lumis couldn't reach through to grab his mind through the Force barrier that surrounded him. Not yet, in any case.

He ducked under Maul's blade and lashed out at the large metal legs, but he had swiftly jumped, striking at Kenobi from the air, and Qui-Gon's blue blade darted between them to block the strike. With a snarl, Maul landed on the other side of Lumis and spun around just in time to catch the offensive flurry of strikes from the Sith, forcing him to retreat away from Savage, who was brutally engaging the Jedi. He tried to dart around Kenobi to rush to his brother's aid, but the Sith's weapon, _his old blade_ , shot out toward him, the burning blade grazing across his chest as he leaned back to avoid it a fraction too late. With a shriek of pain, Maul's saber connected with Kenobi's, forcing it away from him before the Sith could bring it swiftly down to cut through his body. The distance between him and the Sith lasted for only a moment before Lumis pressed his advantage and resumed the attack, forcing Maul to retreat away from the village and into the burning fields.

Savage watched as his brother disappeared into the flames, retreating under the vicious assault of the Sith Lord, and he quickly tried to dart around the Jedi he was engaging, but to no avail. The blue blade was held in a calm, steady hand, the Master undaunted by the ferocity of his heavy strikes. Every one of his movements was easily countered, easily dodged, and for a moment, the Jedi reminded him of his Master, Dooku. Tyranus had also been able to easily avoid his strikes, fought him without a lightsaber more than once, and still won, simply by predicting where his blade would be and moving to where it was not. The Jedi did the same, hardly using his own weapon at all. It was infuriating, and with new anger, he found new strength.

Savage attacked again, gripping his weapon in two hands and chopping ferociously at the swiftly moving Jedi, his blue blade raised and moving just enough to neatly block each strike as if it was nothing at all. Despite the rage of his opponent, he was calm, serene, confident, and for reasons he couldn't understand, Savage felt his anger fade into fear and concern. He felt his focus drifting toward his brother, battling alone against Darth Lumis, a creature more powerful than his Master had been, and he knew he had to be with him, or he would surely die. He just needed to get past this damnable Jedi. With a vicious snarl, Savage threw himself with greater intensity at the Master, but to no avail. A powerful slash was met with the same serene ease as light, swift cuts. There was no fighting this Jedi, and the realization was sobering. Of all the support Lumis had at his call, he called a _Jedi_ , not his Sith brother. There would be no victory here. They had to leave.

The blue blade slashed down toward his face, and Savage could barely block it in time. This Jedi had somehow robbed him of his anger, and therefore had robbed him of his strength in the Force. He could feel his well run dry, filled instead with concern and fear, and it was making him distracted, unfocused. He could feel this Jedi centered firmly in the Force, unwavering and unshaken, and he knew that there would be no victory over him. Savage may not have been able to beat him, but this Jedi was old, certainly well past his physical peak, and the Nightbrother was young and strong. He could still win in a way. He growled in rage, striking down at the Jedi several times in a last, brutal offensive, and when he felt the Jedi catch his blade, he quickly spun his back to him to avoid the swift, direct stab, and took off running as fast as he could toward the burning fields.

Qui-Gon started after him, but quickly slowed to a stop. The Zabrak was bigger than him by far and certainly a great deal faster. Even with the Force to augment him, he couldn't have caught the Nightbrother. He had felt old on Naboo against Maul the first time, his dwindling energy quickly expended in the fierce battle, and it had nearly led to his death. He had learned, of course, and this time fought much more conservatively and defensively, but he was still left winded and could feel his chest burning from the exertion. Obi-Wan would be fine against Maul. He'd be fine against _both_ of them. He was a Sith Lord, a nexus of Dark Side energy so powerful that it could repel the light. _Darth Lumis_. Qui-Gon knelt, deactivated his saber and closed his eyes, submerging himself in the Force to replenish his energy. He felt Obi-Wan through their connection, all violence and rage and murder and darkness, and he quietly sent him a warning.

 _Savage is coming_.

The anger intensified, and despite his own substantial resistance, he could feel his own heart rate quicken with the intensity of the emotion, could feel the beginnings of intense anger stir in his gut, and it took a substantial effort to remove himself from Obi-Wan's overwhelming wrath. Their connection pulled forcefully with a swift, singular command.

 _Stay there_.

Qui-Gon's body relaxed when he felt the connection slam closed with the Sith's intense focus, and he sighed in relief, sinking deep into meditation. He had promised Obi-Wan to follow his commands. He would do as he was told.

* * *

It was difficult to see the red blades against the flames, but Obi-Wan didn't need to. He could feel where Maul's weapon was at all times, could predict his every move, his every strike. Not that it mattered. Obi-Wan had Maul on the defensive, and he hadn't let up, nor was he going to. Savage would be here any moment, and the fight would become more difficult then. He stepped on smouldering coals, his swift, graceful footwork kicking up embers into the burning air, and flames licked at his robes, leaving them singed and burned, but he felt nothing, the Mandalorian armor underneath protecting him completely. He'd have to thank Bo-Katan for having it made and Satine for worrying enough to prompt its creation. He smiled softly as he deftly stepped out of the way of a vicious downward cut, and Maul swiftly took the opportunity to go on the offensive. The smile dropped off Kenobi's face, and he slipped into a defensive stance, leading Maul even further into the burning fields, and in his rage, the Nightbrother blindly followed.

Both lightsabers were moving so fast, they could barely be seen, leaving a trail of light in the air that mimicked the raging flames around them. Maul brought his blade down, and Kenobi got underneath it to block it, and the force of the strike locked their blades, and less than a heartbeat later, the Zabrak lifted his clawed leg, the metal a glowing, molten yellow as it super heated, and he kicked into Obi-Wan's stomach, sending the Sith back toward a roaring column of fire with a grunt of pain. Maul's triumph at his strike against the Sith Lord was short lived, as Lumis reached out with his hand, and sweeping his arm across his body, the roaring flames behind him circled around him like a serpent and flew toward Maul, caught in the grip of the Force that the Sith Lord commanded.

Maul tried to get out of the way, but he was too late, and flames licked at his body, each touch leaving burning, blistering, charred skin in its wake, and Maul began to scream with agony. He rolled away, keeping his saber clutched tightly in his hands, but the damage had been done. Every breath was agony, and his entire bare chest was a seared mess of blackened skin and red, oozing open sores, and where pain used to give him strength, now it filled him with fear. Within a moment, the Sith Lord bore down upon him, and he brought his weapon up to block it, only to find his brother beside him, his blade crossed with his own to keep Lumis at bay.

"Brother, we have to go," Savage growled, his teeth grit as he pressed against the Sith, and Maul silently nodded. Without waiting for Savage, Maul disengaged his lightsaber from the Sith's and took off running, his tireless mechanical legs carrying him swiftly across the burning terrain. Screaming followed him, loud, violent curses spoken in ancient Sith chased him out of the blaze, and he was soon darting between the buildings and hovels of the farming community as he rushed for his ship. He could feel Savage slowly closing the distance between them on powerful legs enhanced by the Force, and soon, both of them would be safely on board the ship where they could disappear from the wrath of Darth Lumis. He would still have his revenge. His plan would just have to be altered to account for this new, frightening development.

His eyes narrowed when he saw the Jedi between him and his ship, kneeling with his eyes closed and his face serene, and grim delight filled Maul. Maybe he couldn't kill Kenobi, but he could at least finish _one_ part of his unfinished business. The Jedi was an old man now, and his slaughter would be simple. He increased his speed as he tapped into his rage, the Dark Side twisted to do as he commanded, and he took his lightsaber into his hand, activated it as he bore down upon the Jedi, and swung down upon him.

Faster than he could see, Qui-Gon pushed off the ground, effortlessly moving out of the way as Maul's lightsaber struck through grass and soil, and with a hiss, the blue blade extended and lashed out, a blur of light in the air, and the next thing Maul knew, he fell to the ground, the force of his powerful swing sending him skidding along the dirt. Hissing in pain as dirt and rocks scraped the burns on his chest, he quickly planted his hands and leapt to his feet, only to fall to the earth again. Pushing himself up, he looked behind him to see Savage standing between him and the swiftly attacking Jedi and beside them lay Maul's cybernetic legs, severed at the knees.

He didn't have time to be afraid. Savage had seen the Sith Lord rapidly approaching and disengaged from the Jedi, sprinting toward Maul and grabbing him by the arm as he ran past, tossing him over his shoulder like a sack as he rushed toward the open ramp of the ship and disappeared inside, slamming the console with his hands and silently willing the hatch to close faster.

Lumis rushed past Qui-Gon. He didn't even see Qui-Gon. All he could see was Maul as he disappeared into a ship. The hatch had sealed closed as soon as he had reached it, and a moment later, the supporting thrusters the massive, blocky cargo ship stood on lit up as they began to take off. With a snarl of rage, Kenobi jumped up on to various parts of the ship until he had reached the top, the ship shaking as it rose into the air, and he steadied himself by thrusting his lightsaber into the ship. He quickly cut a hole as wind rushed through his hair, and he dropped inside.

The large space immediately lit up with the red light from his weapon. It was a cargo hold, stacked with hundreds of crates, a second level walkway ringing the upper reaches of the ship, and he quickly took stock of his surroundings. His eyes snapped to his right when he heard a hissing, agonized yelp of pain, and he shot through the door and into a small corridor that led to the cockpit where Savage and Maul sat. Both faces filled with panic, the two began to scramble, Savage leaping to his feet and Maul quickly reaching out and frantically entering commands into the control console as his brother slammed his hand on a button on the wall.

An airlock slammed shut, and Lumis immediately thrust his lightsaber through it, rapidly cutting through the thick door. The moment he got through, a red energy field extended across the opening, and Kenobi howled in rage, striking the plasma barrier with his saber and sending sparks flying across the hallway. He focused on the faces of the terrified brothers and dropped his saber to the ground. He extended his hands, breathed deeply, and grasped them both in his clutches, the two Nightbrothers grabbing at their throats as the Dark Side began to choke the life out of them. Savage dropped to his knees, eyes rolling in the back of his head, but Maul was more controlled, more focused. He had endured this before. He reached out and grabbed hold of a lever on the command console and pulled it back, and the ship began to shake violently, breaking Kenobi's concentration as he lost his balance and struck the side wall.

The cockpit, isolated from the rest of the cargo ship, detached from its load, and Kenobi looked out through the energy barrier and saw cloud cover just below them. They hadn't left the atmosphere. Rage filled him as he watched the cockpit, a small ship of its own, fly away from the cargo hold, and devoid of it's power source, it began to free fall back down to the planet below. Using the Force to call his lightsaber to him, Kenobi rushed into the hold, harnessing his powers to push crates away from him as they struck walls and other crates in the fall. He jumped up to grab the railing and hoisted himself up, and found a small, tucked away hall where he found a hand hold to grab onto.

He activated his comlink, and didn't wait for Cody to fully answer before he shouted, "They're in a small freighter heading away from Raydonia now. _Kill them_." There was a swift affirmative from the clone commander, and the com cut just as the ship hit the ground, and the impact left Obi-Wan in darkness.

He couldn't have been out for long. He could hear Qui-Gon calling from outside, could feel him frantically tugging at their connection. Everything hurt, but a quick scan of his body showed that he had sustained no severe injuries. He'd have to thank Bo-Katan _twice_. She'd love that. He opened his eyes to find himself pinned to the ground by heavy, metallic crates, which he supposed accounted for the pain, and with a deep breath, pushed out with the Force and sent the crates flying. Taking his lightsaber into his hand, he ignited it and limped to the nearest wall and thrust the blade through the crushed, crumpled metal. Moments later, he kicked the cut piece out and staggered outside, falling to the ground as he breathed deep of the smoky air.

He felt Qui-Gon's hand upon his back, felt the pure, warm flow of the Force through him, and slowly, his pain began to ease as the Jedi healed him. "Are you alright?" Qui-Gon asked, and Kenobi nodded. "Did you kill them?"

"...no." He tapped his comlink, and growled in irritation when the damn thing sparked, the device soundly broken in the fall. He patted Qui-Gon on the shoulder and whispered "Good work," as he dragged his feet toward the ship they arrived in, the Jedi walking calm and concerned by his side.

"I'm sorry, Obi-Wan."

"...I know. How long was I in there?" he asked, pointing back to the blocky, crushed cargo hold.

"No more than five minutes." Qui-Gon said softly. "You're lucky to have survived. The impact made the ground quake."

"There's no such thing as luck."

The Jedi smiled softly. "Just that good, hmm?"

"You _know_ I'm that good." They reached the ship, and Kenobi climbed up into the cockpit and settled into the pilot's seat, groaning in frustration when he saw that his robes were badly singed and torn. He'd have to get a new pair. _Again_. He powered on the ship when Qui-Gon had settled in and he quickly contacted the _Negotiator_ over their secure channel, and a very suspicious Cody answered it, only to relax when he saw his Master's face.

"Sir, we couldn't reach you! Your comlink has been disconnected, and the rancors have been _howling_. We thought you died!"

"I'm not so easy to kill, Cody," the Sith said, an arrogant smirk on his face. "Did you locate the ship?"

Cody suddenly looked nervous. "We did, sir. We engaged and managed to damage it, but they made the jump before we could bring it down. I'm sorry, sir."

Kenobi hissed as he ran a hand through his hair. He couldn't find it in himself to be angry. If he failed to kill Maul, he certainly couldn't expect anyone else to be successful. "Could you get a lock on his jump coordinates?"

"We did, sir, and we've sent a ship to intercept them at the destination, but the ship was badly damaged. I doubt they could make the full jump. They could be anywhere between here and Rutan on the Hydian Way."

It was a huge range that crossed the entire galaxy. They had been lost. "Contact Dooku and inform him of the situation," Obi-Wan said quietly, rubbing his temples. "Have him put the Confederacy on alert for the fugitives. Contact Satine as well, tell her the same. She can mobilize the Death Watch against them, no doubt they will be angered when they learn that a neutral world has been attacked. Even if it isn't ours, they'll use it to send a message about attacking peaceful systems. They _are_ quite good at that."

Cody saluted, and the com cut, and Obi-Wan could feel Qui-Gon looking over his shoulder. "That was a clone," he said quietly, and Kenobi just nodded. He was too tired to argue. "How did you manage that? They are bred to serve the Republic."

"Nobody wants to be a slave, Qui-Gon." The Jedi didn't respond. "You will contact the Jedi and have them inform the Republic about our fugitives." It was a demand, and they both knew it, but Qui-Gon didn't object. It was the most reasonable course of action. The ship rose up into the air, and Obi-Wan piloted the quick ship out of the planet's atmosphere and punched in the jump coordinates. The jump was a quick one. He didn't want to be out any longer. "Let's get you back to Mandalore so we can both go home."

"Not going to capture me?" Qui-Gon asked, but Kenobi just tiredly shook his head and leaned back in the seat when the ship jumped into the blue and white of hyperspace. "With the Republic, the Confederacy and Mandalore's Death Watch all looking for Maul, it can't be long before we find them." Kenobi groaned loudly and ran his hands over his face.

"It will be if they don't know where to look, and they won't know where to look. He's a fugitive now and he knows it, and he's going to go to ground with all the other scum of the galaxy. We'll need eyes in the criminal world to find them." Obi-Wan turned in his seat and grinned deviously at the Jedi. "And I think I know just the guy."


	72. Happy Hour

" _No_!" He said it far more forcefully than he had intended, his voice much higher than usual in strained panic. Realizing how his careful composure had been lost, he cleared his throat and looked back in to the smirking face, those eerie golden eyes seeming to glow in amusement. Dealing with this man was bad business. "No, no, no, no, no..." he said again, much calmer this time and with a chuckle in his voice. "I remember the last time I did business with you!"

Kenobi laid his hand over his chest and feigned great offense. "Hondo, you _wound_ me! And I thought we got along so well last time!"

"Oh, we did, we did," the Weequay pirate said, crossing his arms and nodding. "And then you _lied_ to me!" he cried dramatically, counting off on his fingers. " _Twice_! You stole two valuable prisoners from me, you reject my hospitality by breaking out of your cell, and you and your friend drank nearly my entire reserve!" Obi-Wan smiled brightly at the flustered man and was just about to respond when the pirate gestured wildly across the expanse of the dusty outdoor compound to a heap of scrap and metal that had once been a building, the dull metallic sheets rusty and worn by wind blown sands. "And if all that wasn't enough," the pirate cried, "you tore down my home!"

"You built a new one!" Kenobi said, pointing to the opposite side of the compound where a large, sprawling network of smaller buildings joined with a grand hallway stood. "And look how lovely it is! It's much better than your old one!"

"It was _expensive_!" Hondo said, putting emphasis each syllable as if it would help the man understand how important, how _grave_ that matter was. Not that he had paid for it, but it _would_ have been expensive. It was certainly a costly loss for the people he stole it from. "You are bad for business!"

"I admit I don't take well to being a hostage," Kenobi said softly. "But I could also be _very_ good for business. You're a smart man, Hondo, I take it you've done your research on me after my last... _social visit_."

Hondo visibly pouted, and Kenobi's smirk grew wider. He _had_ done his research. "What is it you want, Negotiator?"

"As you know, I am _very_ well connected within the Separatist Alliance, and I have ties to the Intergalactic Banking Clan and the Count of Serenno." He grinned. "I'm sure you remember him."

"You would find me less friendly if I _didn't_ know about your connections," the pirate said, and the wicked gleaming in the Weequay's eyes belied a deep, consuming greed. If Kenobi hadn't been connected to some of the wealthiest people in the galaxy, they wouldn't be having this conversation. As always, Hondo Ohnaka was putting on a show.

"I don't like doing business outside, shall we go in to talk?" Obi-Wan flashed the pirate a wicked grin. "I _do_ appreciate doing business over drinks, after all." While the pirate softly grumbled, Obi-Wan looked over to where the _Umbra_ was parked, the boarding ramp extended and Yoda sitting and blocking its entrance. Cody stood beside him, a hand on the rancor's flank and a blaster rifle held loosely in his hand, cautiously eying the pirates that came to gawk at the ship, and scattering away when the beast decided they had gotten too close and growled. Kenobi closed his eyes and sent his satisfaction through the Force to Yoda, and the creature tilted his head back and barked at the feel of his Master. The ship would be safe.

Hondo indicated with his hand that Kenobi should follow him, and they made their way toward the pirate's new compound. "I've heard rumors about you," the pirate said, his voice curious and amused and not at all afraid. "Strange things. _Interesting_ things."

"I'm sure they were," Kenobi said, smirking as they walked past groups of pirates that shot warning glances at him, their hands threatening raising their weapons. It seemed the entire pirate band knew who he was. His last visit hadn't been exactly subtle, but he blamed the Jedi for that. "But I dislike people outside my circle knowing the truth about me. I find that rumors keep people open to negotiation."

Hondo frowned as he looked back at the rancor in the yard. This man spoke like some of the best criminals and con men Hondo had the pleasure and displeasure of knowing. He had spoken like an amicable negotiator, but the actual meaning was clear as day. Rumors kept people afraid, and fear got him what he wanted. After all, this was the man that had culled the Hutts. _The Hutts_! If the likes of Gardula and Jabba were unwilling to tangle with this fearsome young Sith Lord, than this was a man best not crossed. Besides, the Negotiator _was_ well connected, and if Hondo were lucky enough to have this man come to _him_ , he may be able to get his hands into some of the deepest pockets in the galaxy.

They walked into the long hall and he grabbed a bottle from a nearby pirate just as he was about to crack it open. The man had wanted to drink, and Hondo had remembered that the Sith had been able to throw back a fair amount, but got drunk quickly. Alcohol may loosen his tongue. He grabbed two glasses from a table and brought them to his place at the back of the hall, broke the bottle open on the edge of the hard wood, and poured two liberal glasses, sliding one across the table into the blond human's waiting grasp. "So, Sith Lord," Hondo started, looking at those golden eyes light up with delight as he drank. "What brings you to me?"

Obi-Wan quickly drained the glass and pushed it back to the pirate, a shocked but pleased look on the Weequay's face as he filled it again. "Two fugitives are on the run. I need them captured."

Hondo laughed loudly, shaking his head and taking a long swig of his drink. "You need a bounty hunter!" he cried, voice filled with laughter as he watched the Sith's finger circle the rim of the glass. "We are pirates! What is it you think we do?"

"I think you do whatever you can for money, and I'm offering quite a bit." That got the pirate's attention, and Kenobi smirked slightly as Hondo brought the glass to his lips in an attempt to hide his interest. As Hondo said, a bounty hunter would be better suited for the task, and he had considered using Cad Bane, one of Dooku's favorites, or a young promising prospective by the name of Bobba Fett, an unaltered clone copy of Jengo Fett, the clone army's template. He had dismissed both ideas. Bounty hunters could be bought and sold, and young Bobba was said to be something of a loose cannon, a weapon still in need of tempering. Besides, he wanted to find Maul again, and an army of relentless bounty hunters could send him and his brother to ground to quietly gather power, and that was the last thing he wanted. No, what he needed was _information._

"How much are we talking here?" Hondo ventured, and Kenobi made a show of contemplating the price.

"I have in my personal accounts upwards of a million credits." He was lying. He had _far_ more than that in accounts that Sidious had him set up, mostly investments in holdings formerly run by Darth Plagueis, but the pirate's eyes widened anyway. "But my wealth doesn't rest in credits."

"Oh, my friend, I _very_ much disagree," Hondo said as he refilled Kenobi's half empty glass. "I'm sorry, you said you were a Sith Lord?"

"I never said so," Kenobi said, drinking from his glass again as the pirate did.

"But you _are_ one, yes? That makes you a Lord, does it not? A very _wealthy_ Lord! Lord... _something_."

"Lumis," he drawled, amused. "If it pleases you."

"Oh, it does, it does!" Hondo leaned in, pushing Kenobi's glass closer to him to prompt him to drink, which he did. "And what makes you think we can capture these fugitives?"

Kenobi shrugged. "You captured a Sith Lord."

" _Two_ Sith Lords!" the pirate cried proudly.

"Ah, no," Obi-Wan gently reprimanded. "I allowed my capture, but you _actually_ captured Count Dooku, and _that_ I am very impressed with. That takes a certain type of luck and quick thinking that I find _very_ rare."

"Yes, _well_ ," Hondo leaned back in his seat, glass in hand and feet on the table as he boasted. "What can I say? My men are the best. And yours truly didn't get to where he is by being a fool."

"Certainly not."

Hondo suddenly leaned in, his hands steepled as he looked Kenobi over. "And I remember how badly that particular business deal went for me. I was rewarded with three escaped _guests_ , a depleted reserve, a crushed compound and a headache. Not to mention that Dooku and his Separatist fleet began hunting my ships! We had to flee the system for some time!"

Kenobi drummed his fingers on the table, watching as Hondo filled his glass again and downed the whole thing. He liked this pirate. He was a shrewd businessman, and he knew this game well. At the heart of him, he wanted _money_. This was an act to get him to raise his price, since the pirate knew he was independently wealthy and well connected. He closed his eyes, breathing deep and using the Force to purge himself of the effects of the alcohol as he began to feel inebriated. He needed to keep a clear mind with Hondo, and it would serve him well if the pirate _believed_ he was manipulating the Sith by making him more agreeable in his intoxication. After all, Kenobi had been drunk enough to fake it well. He could never handle the stuff, but everyone around him certainly could.

"Allow me to make you an offer, then," he said, elbows on the table and leaning in toward the Weequay. "So long as you are in my service, I will personally protect this system from Confederate forces. You have my word that they will come nowhere near you. That whole mess with Dooku we can simply put behind us."

Hondo nodded, stroking his chin as if in thought, and leaned in. "I am still reluctant to tangle with Sith Lords again. You understand."

"Ten thousand credits for each piece of relevant information you bring me regarding my fugitives."

"Done!" the pirate cried, reaching over and vigorously shaking the Sith's hand. "I think this is the beginning of a beautiful partnership." He looked over his shoulder and swiftly called out for more drinks before returning his attention to Kenobi. "Now, that is just for _information_ , yes?" he asked. "We don't need to capture these men?"

"Just for information. And if you somehow manage to capture them as well, I'll increase the payment tenfold." Kenobi grinned. "Per captive."

Obi-Wan quietly sipped at his drink as Hondo choked, coughing and sputtering at the outrageous figure before he retained composure and leaned in toward the slightly swaying Sith as he held out his glass. Hondo diligently filled it. "What's the catch?" he asked carefully, and Kenobi shrugged.

"No catch. You're looking for two brothers, Zabrak Nightbrothers, to be precise." He fished through his robes and pulled out his datapad, fumbling with it for a moment before he brought up images of Maul and Savage. "Force sensitive, both of them."

" _Ah ha!_ " the pirate cried, pointing a finger in Kenobi's face, and the Sith lazily swatted it away. "I knew it! There's _always_ a catch!"

"Oh, _please_ , this from the man that captured a Sith Lord?" He leaned in, a carefree smile on his face. " _Two_ Sith Lords, and a Jedi Master. I'm not even asking you to capture them. I just want to know if you see them, and if you do..." He shrugged. "Tell me where and when and what they were doing. Your pirates are all over the place. Just keep your ears open and let me know." He threw his hands into the air. "That's all!"

Hondo considered this, stroking his chin and carefully watching the Sith Lord down another glass, swaying in his seat and eyes struggling to focus. "And we still get the money?"

"Oh yes," Obi-Wan slurred. Hondo kept his eyes locked on the Sith Lord's face and filled up his glass. There were rumors about this man. Dangerous rumors, and doing business could end up being very lucrative or very, very bad for business. He needed to know the risks going in, and the Sith had clearly dropped his guard.

"Why bother making deals, hmm?" the pirate asked, leaning in and lowering his voice. Kenobi leaned in as well. "I hear that you can control minds. Why bother paying me when you can just take what you want?"

The Sith was quiet for a moment, looking off to the side and staring into nothing at all, and Hondo thought he hadn't heard him. He took a deep breath, started to repeat himself, but the Sith quickly cut in with, "I heard you." The pirate held his breath when he saw those golden eyes sharp with focus, and realized that the man had been playing the same game of deception he was. "The truth is," Lumis began, "is that I _could_ just control your mind, command you to do as I ask. I could make you so afraid of me, so completely _petrified_ of what I would do to you and your pirate empire, that you would do anything I asked you to do just so I would leave you in peace."

"I _knew_ I didn't like you Sith Lords," the pirate grumbled, but Kenobi just smiled.

"As much as I enjoy keeping slaves, they don't make for great informants." He waved his hand carelessly in the air. "In order to break them to _my_ will, they can't have a will of their own, you see, and I appreciate a streak of independence and intelligence. Which _you_ have."

Still cautious, but slowly beginning to relax, Hondo proudly said, "Well, you don't survive long in the Outer Rim by being stupid."

"I agree." He leaned forward, hands clasped tightly on the table, and the pirate looked at the two empty bottles on the table. The Sith _looked_ clear headed, despite having drunk most of it. He had either improved _greatly_ in his ability to hold his liquor since he saw him last, or his men had stupidly ruined the batch. _Again_. "You see, Hondo, I collect allies, which I very much hope we can be. The Ohnaka Gang is extensive and very well connected in parts of the galaxy that I don't have resources in." He leaven in closer, a long finger on the table and his gaze intense. " _That_ is where my fugitives will be hiding, and that's why I need _you_."

"And..." Hondo began, pushing his glass to the side. "You won't be using any of your... _magic_ tricks, will you?"

"This is a mutually beneficial arrangement, Hondo, I only use my... _tricks_ when I need to motivate someone against their morals, but _your_ motivation is simple. I can pay you better than anyone in the galaxy if you make it worth my time, and I don't believe you're the sort to respond well to fear." Besides, he had drilled fear into the other crime syndicates by taking on the Hutts. They may have done as he asked, but it was just as likely that they would set him up, lead him into a trap simply so they could dispose of him, and if they knew there was a possible threat running around, they may be more inclined to sit on their hands and do nothing. Fear only went so far. It was a fantastic tool in the short term, but loyalty was forever, if treated properly.

Hondo thought about it for a long while, and Obi-Wan could see his clever mind turning, looking for a way to make the situation better, seeing how it could go wrong, and eventually, the pirate nodded and extended his hand. "Very well. Consider ourselves... _partners_."

With a grin, Kenobi took the Weequay's hand and shook it. "Think we should celebrate our new friendship? I've always found that getting absolutely trashed is as good a way as any to cement an alliance." He shrugged. "Provided that there aren't any hostages this time." Kenobi smiled brightly at the pirate. "And I promise not to use the Force to purge the effects of the alcohol this time. It would make our drinking contest _so_ unfair for you."

Hondo stared at the Sith Lord, jaw slack, before he began laughing, ordering his men to roll out the kegs in celebration. He liked this Sith Lord. He was good business.

* * *

Asajj Ventress sat in a bar on Coruscant's Level 1313, so named because it was one thousand, three hundred and thirteen levels from the planet's core. It was dark, filthy, and part of an expansive criminal underworld. It was a haven for bounty hunters, members of crime syndicates, and all the wretched scum the galactic hub had to offer. Around every corner, there was a new collection of spice addicts, dealers hawking the newest mixes of Death Sticks, all manner of species soliciting carnal pleasures from scantily clad unfortunates in darkened alleys, crimes being committed, and not a single person stopped to look twice. It was lawless here, and Asajj fit right in.

After...after _it_ happened, she had been lost. She had nowhere to go, nothing to do with her life, and all Talzin had told her was that a chapter of her life had been over, and it was time to begin a new one. And then she was gone, fading into green mist on the air, and Ventress was alone. She had always been alone, of course. Getting close to people just resulted in pain, and she never, _ever_ learned. First was her Master, the man the Nightsisters had given her to. He was kind, for a slave master, and Ventress had been young. And then he was dead. Then there was the Jedi Master, Ky Narec, who had taught her the ways of the Force, had taken her as his Padawan, was like a father to her. He had died too. It was Dooku after that, who showed her the power of the Dark Side, had wanted an apprentice as filled with rage and hate as he was, and she had wanted a Master to make her strong. It was a good match. Until it wasn't. Until she had been betrayed. And then there was _Kenobi_...

She threw back her drink and demanded another, which was swiftly delivered. She wasn't drunk yet, but she would be soon enough. In the depths of her darkness, Obi-Wan had been a constant friend and companion, a teacher and an enabler. He quickly took a liking to her, but made certain she knew he was stronger, made her feel part of the family, but never Sith like Dooku had promised. Dooku had told her they would destroy his Sith Master and rule the galaxy together. Obi-Wan assured her that it would never be the case. He was a Lord, and she was beneath him, but even so, he had been her closest and most cherished friend. He shielded her from Dooku, even though she may have deserved his wrath, and all because the Sith Lord Lumis had laid claim to her, not as an apprentice, but as siblings bound in the Dark Side.

Kenobi wasn't like the other Sith. He wasn't constantly darkness and wrath and anger as she so often was, wasn't consumed and controlled by the Dark Side as she came to be. He embraced passion, deep and unrelenting and in all its forms, from the deepest pain to the highest joy, from physical torment to sexual pleasure, he reveled and embraced it all. Dooku was cold, heartless and brimming with hatred, but Obi-Wan took the Dark Side in hand and gleefully ran with it and with him came reckless abandon and such joy, such a delight in his every action, cruel or compassionate, that it was infectious. He was made free by the Dark Side, a raging tempest that did what he wanted when he wanted to do it, and there were very few that could stop him.

With deeply felt emotions that ran through him came compassion and understanding and love for things he cared about, all things carried over from his life as a Jedi that was re-purposed to Sith goals to terrifying effect, but for Asajj, it just made him easy to talk to, terribly charismatic, frightfully persuasive and unquestionably alluring. Kenobi drew people to him, inspired loyalty and belief in the things he believed in, which not only made him subversive and dangerous, but it also made him so very easy to trust and befriend. Obi-Wan was her friend, her companion, her protector and her teacher, and despite his overwhelming power, he had never frightened her.

And then there was Dathomir.

It was the beginning of the end when she had gone to kill Dooku on Serenno the second time. She had seen the other side of Obi-Wan then. She had seen the Sith Darth Lumis emerge on several occasions, but she had never _felt_ it. Not until he had turned on her. Not until she was standing opposite him in a real fight and saw those golden eyes glow not in infinite passion and delight, but in cold, focused rage, a hatred and anger so deep and consuming it was like looking into the Dark Side itself. This was not her friend. This was a monster that was driven by singular rage, his presence in the Force blinding in its magnificence and burning with the promise of burning all he touched into ash. Kenobi had been her friend, and she had betrayed him and turned the wrath of Darth Lumis upon her.

He had been right on Dathomir. She should have gone to him after Dooku betrayed her. She should have run to her friend who would have protected her instead of to her sisters who could not, and by choosing the Nightsisters over the Sith, she had doomed her entire clan, her entire planet. The Sith revenge was consuming and absolute, and Darth Lumis, reeling from her betrayal, had led the charge. She was only alive because he allowed it, because she ran when he commanded it, because she abandoned her sisters to die so that she may save herself. At first, she had thought it a mercy that Lumis had allowed her to live, and it wasn't until the shock had worn off that she realized how far from the truth that was. Lumis didn't seek revenge in death. He sought revenge in life, by allowing her to live in the knowledge that the massacre of her entire planet was her doing. All the blood of her sisters on her hands because she had dared to cross the Sith.

Revenge didn't cross her mind. After her second failure to exact revenge on Dooku, she had committed herself to the Nightsisters, resolved herself to starting a new life, had allowed Talzin to purify her withered, consumed spirit, and she turned her back on the Dark Side. It was no easy feat, but she had done it. Standing on the brink of darkness, endless in it's power, consuming in its wrath, she had managed to walk away, something she knew that very few had ever done. She would seek no more revenge against Dooku. She was no stranger to the Dark Side, but no longer would it consume her, no longer would she embrace it. It was simply a tool she would impassively use, and put it away when its purpose had concluded. But the Sith weren't done with her. The Sith were _never_ done...

"Do you truly believe you can escape the Dark Side, Asajj?" she muttered into her glass. Obi-Wan had said it to her when she had told him that she had broken free, that she had turned away from the darkness, and had, perhaps foolishly, tried to take him with her. But there was no turning back for Obi-Wan Kenobi. He was still her friend, as painful as it was, her constant tether to the Dark Side, and she slowly came to realize that Kenobi was much like the dealers on Level 1313, and under the Sith, she had been the fool that clung to him gratefully as he gleefully drugged her and encouraged her addiction. He _had_ warned her about diving too deep into darkness, about seeking to control that which was the Sith's domain, but her obsession was too complete, and the power afforded to her was never enough. It had consumed her once. It would never again. She couldn't even find it within herself to hate Obi-Wan. He had been betrayed, and like she had done with Dooku, he sought revenge against her. It was paid back a thousand fold, but Ventress couldn't find it within her to hate him. Someone had to break the cycle, and it wasn't going to be the Sith. She turned away, and never looked back.

For a month, she had wandered aimlessly and found her way into Hutt Space, and quickly found work as a bounty hunter. She was good at it, and it paid well, and jobs kept her in drinking money. She drank herself into oblivion more often than she intended, and this was shaping up to be one of those nights. She had returned from a particularly difficult contract with resounding success, managed to get paid double the price for a job particularly well done, and to celebrate, she went right to her base of operations in the bar on 1313. There were always contracts there, always bounty hunters blowing off steam after completed contracts, and nobody paid attention to another sullen drunk. Better yet, there were no authorities, no law, and no Jedi. Down here, she was hidden. Down here, she was _safe_ , perhaps the only place in the entire galaxy that was safe. Coruscant was the one place Obi-Wan could never go.

Ventress ran a hand over her head and looked down into her empty glass. She tried not to think of her sisters often, but it was difficult not to. She felt rage build up inside her every time she did, and while it was a useful thing to be able to call darkness to her so quickly, it was useless when she was drunk and alone. If needed, she could use the memory to give her a way to tap the Dark Side, brushing it, but not embracing it, boosting her already considerable power in particularly tight spots, but letting it go afterwards. It was the only way to approach the Dark Side. With extreme reservation and caution. Embracing it would quickly lead down a path of destruction.

She was about to get up to leave when a loud, slurred voice called out to her, " _Hey_! I know you!" She growled. Another drunk, either some idiot bounty hunter looking for payback after she stole their bounty, or some fool looking for a bedmate. She got both with equal frequency, and she was not in the mood for it tonight. She turned, her face in a bitter scowl before her pale blue eyes widened in surprise. He didn't look like much, but she _knew_ him. This was a _Jedi_. Obi-Wan's friend. _Quinlan Vos_.

Panic immediately gripped her. She was among the Jedi's most wanted, a Dark Side practitioner serving the Sith with ruthless abandon. She had won several battles, killed thousands of people, executed _many_ Jedi in her service to Dooku, and it made Asajj Ventress one of the most dangerous women in the galaxy. Avoiding the Jedi had been a constant concern, but if they tracked her _here_ , there may have been nowhere to run, and if the bounty hunters in the bar saw her being hunted by a Jedi, than she became a liability to the lawlessness of 1313. It would make her a target among murderers and thieves as well as among the Jedi, the Sith, the Republic, and the Confederacy. She'd have nowhere left to go.

She quickly rose from her seat, averting her eyes and starting out the bar, but a quick glance over her shoulder gave her a better look at the Jedi she was trying to avoid. There was no mistaking him. This _was_ Quinlan Vos. Obi-Wan's friend. She had fought him early in the war, and the Jedi was _good_ , a rare talent, but the contest between them hadn't been decided, since Obi-Wan had shown up and stopped the fight. Narrowing her eyes, she looked him over carefully, the beginnings of her intoxication fading away before her focus. He wasn't _dressed_ like a Jedi, and it looked like he had just come out of a fight with a rancor. His thick, dark hair was disheveled, he was covered in dirt stains and scratches, and the dark brown eyes above the gold band tattoo across his face were hazy and unfocused as he pushed to stand in front if her and swayed on unsteady feet. He was _drunk_. Not even a little bit, he was absolutely, throughly sloshed, and he smelled as if he had been soaked in it. Obi-Wan often spoke of the debauched life that Vos had gleefully taken part in, and if even half of that was true, he must have drank a bar out of their entire supply to get this intoxicated.

An amused smirk slid across her face. If he was here to apprehend her, he wasn't doing a good job of it, and she could feel no hostility and no judgement from him. No, this Jedi seemed... _happy_ to see her, almost excited by this chance encounter, and he looked at her like she was _exactly_ what he had needed. Ventress had endured that look from men before, mostly to her vast irritation, but occasionally, if they caught her interest, she'd indulge them, _and_ herself if she was so inclined. She was no stranger to physical pleasure, though she didn't partake often, and never twice with the same partner. She had learned the pain that attachment caused. She would not fall victim again.

But this Jedi _did_ interest her, and not just because Kenobi _still_ considered them close. Any Jedi that wound up hopelessly drunk on 1313 was worth her attention. She crossed her arms in front of her chest and glared at him. "What do you want, idiot?"

Quinlan opened his mouth to speak, but stopped himself, swaying on his feet as he glanced down. The room was swimming. The floor was moving. _Everything_ was hazy. He forgot what he was going to say. Instead a thick, lazy smile slid across his face and he slurred, "You promised me a date, and you _never_ showed up!"

Ventress rolled her eyes. She had forgotten about that. The flirtatious Jedi had not been shy about propositioning her in the middle of their fight back on Christophsis, and while it enraged her at the time, made her believe that he was, in fact, just an idiot, it amused her now. "Is that what you want?" she asked, her eyes lowered and she laid a delicate, promising hand on his chest, and the Jedi groaned. Frowning, Ventress pushed him back, and he stumbled, but caught himself before he fell. "Well, you can forget it," she growled.

"No," he mumbled, shuffling towards her again and reaching out to grab her wrist, his unsteady hand missing by several feet, and Ventress looked at him with disgust. "No, I need help," he said thickly, loudly, though nobody seemed to notice. "I need help with _murder_. I'm going to kill Count Dooku." This time, the bar fell nearly silent, and Ventress could feel a hundred eyes on them as countless bounty hunters looked at them in fear and disbelief and greed. A bounty on Count Dooku had existed once, a long time ago before the war. Millions of credits for the life of the former Jedi had attracted the attention of several particularly tenacious bounty hunters, and it had ended when the gruesome pieces of those hunters had been found scattered across various bounty hunter holdouts throughout the galaxy, along with a holorecording of the supernatural terror they had endured as they were killed. An entire crime syndicate on Nar Shaddaa, the ones that, supposedly, had posted the bounty, had turned up brutally executed as well, and in place of the bounty came a counteroffer, half a million credits to anyone who brought in a fellow hunter or _anyone_ that talked seriously about assassinating the Count.

She wasn't sure if they still remembered, or if this offer was even still in place, but she suspected it was. There was a reason that Dooku, with all the pain he had caused, didn't have several contracts taken out on him. She threw her head back and laughed loudly and grabbed the Kiffar by the arm _hard_. "Oh, _baby,_ you have been indulging in Death Sticks again, haven't you," she said loudly, loud enough for everyone to hear, and she was grateful that the man didn't look like a Jedi in his severe inebriation. "I keep telling you, that sleemo brother of yours _isn't_ Dooku!" That seemed to settle it. The patrons slowly went back to their drinks, but a few kept a cautious, watchful eye on the pair. Tightening her grip around his arm, she slapped a few credits onto the bar and dragged the Jedi to the back and down a long corridor, the hall lined with cheap rooms to house those who could afford it who needed a room quickly. Drug deals, quick, brutal rutting, hopeless drunkards and murders were common back here, and Ventress had used the rooms on occasion when she felt she couldn't make it safely back to her ship. She occasionally brought... _partners_ back with her as well, but never like this.

"Are you _trying_ to get yourself killed?" she hissed, and the Jedi just shook his head.

"No, no, _I_ don't want to be killed. I _want_ to kill-"

" _Shut up_!" she unlocked the door and pushed Vos inside, the man stumbling and then falling on the small, creaky sleeping palette in the corner. She slammed her fist on the button on the wall to no effect, and with a snarl of aggravation, she reached out with the Force to slam the door shut herself. The rooms were in disrepair. She couldn't expect the crude mechanisms of the doors to work properly when a drunken patron would simply break it again the next week.

"I want-"

"I don't want to hear it, idiot!" she growled, hand extended, and the Jedi's lightsaber flew to her hand. She ignited it, pointed it at his throat, and he looked at her completely unafraid, though his hazy eyes began to clear a bit. He was beginning to purge himself of the intoxication. _Finally_. "If I were hostile, you would be dead right now," she snarled, shutting the saber off and throwing it back at him. He fumbled, but he did manage to catch it. "Tell me, what is a Jedi even doing down here? Why would a Jedi even do _this_?!" she asked forcefully, pointing an accusing finger at him. Vos was silent for a moment, and he looked away, and Ventress could feel herself soften a bit as she felt his struggle.

"There's something I have to do," he said slowly, his words still slurred, but not nearly as much. "I've tried and tried, but I _can't_."

"That something being killing Dooku?" she asked, and to her surprise, the Jedi shook his head, but didn't elaborate.

"We heard you were dead," he said softly, looking up at her with deep brown eyes filled with... _no_. She looked away from him. He was compassionate, sympathetic, the deep feelings intensified by his intoxication, and she would have none of it. She was alone. _She was alone_. And it was for the best.

"I'm not easy to kill," she rasped softly, sadly, and she could feel his presence in the Force reaching out to her. She pushed it away.

"We only found out you were alive a few weeks ago, and apparently not working for Dooku anymore." She saw him grin out of the corner of her eye. He was still drunk, but at least now he was functional. "Tell me, what is a _former_ Sith doing working as a bounty hunter."

She grit her teeth in rage, her hand balling into a fist. " _I'm not Sith_ ," she growled dangerously, and the Jedi put his hands up, chuckling lightly. "I never was, and don't you _dare_ call me that. And you'd do well to mind your business down here, _Jedi_ , people get killed here for asking the wrong questions."

"Alright, alright, I'm sorry!" There was something different about Asajj Ventress. She was angry, yes, dangerous, most certainly, but she was also... _something_. Vos couldn't place it, but when he looked at her, she seemed almost a different person from before, and certainly a great deal different from Obi-Wan. He couldn't sense the oppressive darkness within her, as he had come to expect from those that plunged into the Dark Side. Obi-Wan's words echoed in his mind, that soft, accented drawl telling him in no uncertain terms that there was no coming back from the Dark Side once it had been embraced, and yet, here was Asajj Ventress, _former_ Sith apprentice and enemy of the Jedi, and she felt... _human_. Quinlan couldn't help but smile. It could be that Kenobi was _wrong_. She had turned away, and if she could do it, so could he. _After_ his mission, of course. Assassination was _not_ the way of the Jedi.

"You said you wanted to kill Dooku," she said suddenly, and he focused on her. She was almost removed from the idea, more amused and curious than angry or interested. "I can't say my former Master doesn't deserve it, but that isn't a very Jedi thing to want, is it?"

"You're right, it isn't."

She smirked. "Kenobi always said you were a bit unconventional. Your Council can't possibly approve of this."

"I'm _on_ the Council." Vos grinned when her eyes widened. "We're talking about it. This war is endless, and Dooku's the key. If something isn't done about him..." He growled and ran a hand through his thick hair. "I don't know. He's caused pain and suffering everywhere he goes. So _yes_ , I want Dooku dead. He _needs_ to die."

"I don't think you fully understand what will be required to accomplish that."

"I do," the Jedi said grimly. "Obi-Wan told me." They stared at each other for a long while, saying nothing. She felt it then. She felt the darkness within Quinlan Vos, deep and eager, but still so young, so inexperienced, so _fragile_. This wasn't the consuming darkness of the Sith, this was the touch of one who flirted the Dark Side, but did not embrace it. _Like her_. With a push, he could become strong, drawing ever closer to its powerful grip, but remaining just out of reach. He was a Jedi Master, with a strong, steady command of the Force, and that was no small thing. When they had fought before, they had been equally matched, and _she_ had been using the Dark Side to fuel her. Were Quinlan Vos to put the wrath of darkness behind him, maybe he _could_ take the Sith...

Ventress shook her head of the thought. There was no defeating the Sith. All attempts led to ruin. "What did Kenobi tell you?" she asked quietly, and the Jedi shivered, clutching his arms tightly against him and the sudden chill he felt.

"He said I'd need to use the Dark Side. H-he said I'd need to _kill_ someone with it if I ever wanted to be strong enough to kill Dooku."

"He's right." _What_ was Kenobi planning? It made little sense to her. He had been clear on his stance. He would stand beside the Sith, would defend Dooku as his Dark Side brother, and he would destroy those that attempted to raise a hand against them. So _why_ mobilize a Jedi against the Count, and not just any Jedi, but a man he claimed to be his best friend? Quinlan held his hands out, and Ventress looked at them as they shook.

"I tried to do it," he said softly. "I tried so many times, but I can't do it. _I can't_. But Dooku needs to die, he needs to!" He pit his lip and looked away, his hands clutching his knees so tightly his knuckles turned white. "I know that if I go now, I may hesitate when I need conviction. I-I've never _murdered_ anything before..."

"Your heart is soft, Jedi," Ventress said, though not unkindly. "You're going to have to harden that heart of yours if you mean to do this thing." He nodded. "I wish you the best of luck," she said, turning on him and beginning to pry the door open, but the Kiffar jumped up, shooting his hand out to wrap it around her wrist.

"Wait, _please_!" he said frantically. "I need help to do this, Obi-Wan said as much!"

"Then get _Obi-Wan_ to help you."

"He won't. And I _can't_ ," he said firmly, leaving no room for question. "Obi-Wan said he'll protect Dooku. He said he'd teach me how to do it, how to... _touch_ the Dark Side to bring myself to murder, but-"

Ventress laughed loudly and patted the hand wrapped tightly around her wrist. "It seems to me you have everything you need, then. There is no better teacher in the use of the Dark Side than Obi-Wan Kenobi."

"I can't go back to him," Vos said morosely. "I know what he's trying to do. It's no secret that he's trying to make me fall with him." The Jedi's chest swelled with resolve. "I won't do it. I _can't_ do it. I'm a Jedi, and maybe I'm not a very good one, but I owe so much to the Order. If Obi-Wan teaches me, he'll take me by the hand and walk me down the path to darkness. But _you_..."

Ventress felt her stomach tighten when the Jedi clasped her hand between his, her other hand still wrapped tightly around his wrist, and looked at her with eyes that were far too trusting. "Oh, no, no, no..."

" _You_ could teach me!" he cried, impervious to her reluctance and holding her hand tightly when she tried to pull away. "You turned away from the Dark Side, haven't you? I can feel it!"

"Let go of my hand, idiot!"

"You could show me how to tap into it and get the power I need to kill Dooku and then be done with it! If you aren't his apprentice anymore, than something must have happened to turn you away!"

"He tried to kill me, that's what happened!" she snarled, trying to pry his fingers off her, but to no avail.

"Then you have more reason than most to want him dead! _Help me_! Help me get the strength I need to kill him, and we can get your revenge _together_!"

" _No_." She had snapped, louder than intended, and much, much colder, and the Jedi froze, and slowly let go of her hand, crestfallen as he looked at the ground. "No," she repeated again, much softer this time. "I tried to get my revenge on him twice, and both times, I failed, and I have paid dearly for it. You are right. I did turn from the Dark Side, but I almost didn't make it. I don't want revenge anymore. It would be nice to see him dead, but I can't lose myself down that path again, or I _won't_ come back."

"So..." Vos said slowly. "You won't help me?"

She shook her head. "You didn't come here for my help. You're asking me for this on a whim. You haven't thought this through."

"I've been thinking of nothing else for over a month," he said, his voice deeper and darker than before, and Ventress could feel the strong threads of the Dark Side coursing through him. Kenobi had been right about his friend. He walked the line, and had for years. She could see it in him. "But...I keep failing. I'm here because..." He groaned, rubbing the back of his head and looking sheepishly at the woman. "I keep trying to bring myself to kill, I _know_ I must, but I can't do it." He laughed nervously. "It's failure, and it's weakness, and I _hate_ myself for it, so-"

"So you come here to forget," Ventress concluded for him, and the Jedi nodded. The reasons were different, but at the heart of it all, she and this Quinlan were doing the same thing. She drank to forget her sisters. He drank to forget all the innocent that died every day the Count still lived. She saw his problem clearly. To kill Dooku, he would have to dig deep of the Dark Side, but the one who would teach him aimed for his fall, not the death of the Sith Lord, and this was certainly not something he could do on his own. Ventress sought no further revenge, but she would be pleased to see Dooku dead, and if anyone could accomplish this, it would be someone that Kenobi was reluctant to kill, and she could think of nobody he spoke of more fondly than Quinlan Vos...

"Alright," she said softly, and those big brown eyes turned up to meet her, a small, shy, _sweet_ smile on his face, and Asajj Ventress felt her pulse quicken. "I'll help you. I can show you the way of the Dark Side. _Safely_." He nodded vigorously, opened his mouth to speak, but Ventress laid a long finger on his lips. "This is not for the faint of heart, Quinlan Vos," she warned. "It will be painful, and you'll go places you never believed you could go _if_ you can make it that far."

"I will!" he said, grabbing her hand again. "I _must_ , whatever it takes to end this war."

"And you'll have to find a different partner," she growled, taking her hand away from him. "I'll teach you what you must know, but Obi-Wan was right. You cannot do this alone. You need an accomplice, and I can't be that person. I can't go after the Sith again, not after what they've done."

"...what did they do?" he asked quietly, but Ventress just shook her head.

"That...is a story for another time," she grumbled. She slammed her fist on the button on the wall, and the door shuddered and slowly screeched open. "I'll find you soon enough to begin your training," she said, pushing him into the hallway."

"How are you-"

"Trust me," she growled. "I'll find you."

Quinlan Vos didn't ask anymore questions. With a nod and a slight bow, he turned and walked down the hallway, leaving a stunned Asajj Ventress to wonder what she had gotten herself in to.


	73. Double Talk

"Darth Sidious?" The Chancellor clasped his hands together and leaned over the desk to bring himself closer to Luminara Unduli and Kit Fisto, his Jedi advisors. He had requested the meeting, as he always did after he knew the Council had met. As Supreme Chancellor, it was his duty to keep abreast of to war effort and to keep in close contact with the Jedi Generals that were running it. After all, the wisdom of the Jedi helped guide him down the right path. "Are you certain?"

The Mirialan nodded. "One of our Masters was on Raydonia and confronted the creature. This was the Sith Lord that was killed on Naboo during the blockade, if you would remember.

Palpatine nodded. "I do remember that, yes..." He stroked his chin, his eyes drifting up toward the ceiling in thought. "If I remember correctly, wasn't that Obi-Wan Kenobi that killed him?"

"It was."

He tapped the table with his finger. "Is it possible that Kenobi was in league with this creature back then? It could account for his survival."

Fisto chuckled softly and shook his head. "I'm afraid not, Chancellor. Though it was a good guess."

"Obi-Wan left the Jedi a few years after that," Luminara said gently. "This Maul survived with the strength of his willpower."

Palpatine laughed heartily and leaned back in his seat, folding his hands in his lap. "That isn't possible."

"Master Jinn assures us it is so." Luminara leaned forward. "And this Maul was the Sith apprentice before he was assumed dead. The Sith Master hasn't changed since then, from what we understand. This Sidious is the man we are looking for." She sighed as she leaned back in her chair, a pleased smile on her face, and Palpatine frowned.

"Why isn't Master Jinn here with you to report this important development? He was the one that was there, wasn't he?" Both Jedi nodded. "I have a great many questions about the incident. I would find his account of the utmost importance."

Kit Fisto looked uncomfortable for a moment, the greatly shortened tendrils on his head wiggling in his discomfort. "Master Jinn is not in the Temple. He hasn't been here since he left to deal with Maul. Even we had to hear his report over a holotransmission."

"That is...unorthodox?" the Chancellor asked, and Luminara sighed.

"Just like him, yes. He's investigating something."

"What is it?" The Jedi shrugged.

"Your guess is as good as mine, Chancellor."

Palpatine sighed and closed his eyes. He _greatly_ disliked getting this sort of information from the Jedi when he could have been getting a much more detailed, much more through report from his apprentice, but a recent string of threats against members in the Senate had put Palpatine under constant surveillance. Everywhere he went, he required a protective detail, including two Jedi Knights to shadow his every move and be on the lookout for anything even remotely suspicious. Getting away long enough to contact Lumis had been impossible. It had been well over a month of this nonsense, and he was growing tired of it. They had vastly important matters to discuss. Like _Maul_ , for example.

"How big of a threat is this Maul?" he asked softly, a look of concern on his face. "Certainly he cannot be any challenge to the Jedi. If he was defeated before by a mere student, surely he can be dealt with again."

"He did escape Master Jinn on Raydonia," Fisto said. "But no, we don't believe he is a threat to the Republic. We have designated him a Jedi problem, and he will be apprehended." Fisto flashed a charming smile. "Don't worry, Chancellor. Stopping this creature is a priority."

"The bigger problem is the Sith," Luminara said, and Palpatine looked back to the Mirialan. Of his two advisors, she had been the most difficult to properly manage. Kit Fisto was formidable, yes, but it was the Mirialan who had a talent for politics, and she navigated the Senate with ease through its most difficult, confusing times. Waylaying her had been a constant source of frustration, as it was shaping up to be now. Maul's survival and emergence in the galaxy was a problem only to Sidious, but he was in the business of turning difficulties to his advantage. If properly pressed, Maul could still serve some use to him, as he currently was by giving the Jedi yet another thing to focus on. A divided attention only served to make them easy to continually distract, but Luminara was singular in her focus and not so easily sidetracked.

Of course, the distraction extended to Lumis as well. Before Maul had appeared, the man had been consumed by visions about the former apprentice that bordered on obsession, and he was right to be worried. Maul had been powerful once, and now, he was a loose end, and one that knew too much at that. Furthermore, the matter was personal to Lumis. He had always been fastidious and a touch obsessive compulsive, and finding the man alive would no doubt wound his pride and aggravate his neurosis at leaving a task uncompleted.

"If you will excuse me for saying so, Master Jedi," Palpatine said apologetically, "but what good will this name do you? A name without a person to match is _just_ a name."

"You're correct," she said softly. "The name is unimportant for anything other than giving us a label for our Sith Master." She smiled softly, knowingly, and the Chancellor felt his chest tighten. "What _is_ important is Maul himself. Identifying him as the former Sith apprentice puts him in the position to identify the man."

Sidious changed his mind about Maul. His immediate death was the highest priority. He needed to speak to Lumis.

"And you really believe that this... _Sith_ is within the Republic?" The Jedi nodded firmly, but would say no more. The Mirialan was so... _secretive_. It was a persistent problem. "You know I have always supported the Jedi in this matter," he said softly, "but if we were to open an investigation now-"

"I do not ask for that," Luminara said quickly. "The Republic cannot afford to be divided. All I ask is that you keep your ears open. I doubt you will hear anything, but awareness in that matter is key. Knowing who the Sith are is our first step to defeating them."

"But this is largely a _Jedi_ problem, yes?"

She smiled softly. "Yes, largely. We have assigned Jedi to... _handle_ matters regarding the Sith, and we have put our most respected Masters to the task."

Palpatine leaned back in his seat. It was unlikely he'd be able to get anything more out of the Mirialan on the subject, and the meeting appeared over anyway. "I thank you for your time, Masters," Palpatine said respectfully. "I do wish you luck in finding this Sidious. I know how important the Jedi believe this matter is." Nodding, the Jedi stood. "I will need your guidance tomorrow, Masters. The Senate is discussing a Mandalorian matter. It seems they have expanded their territory substantially as a result of the attack on Raydonia."

Both Jedi tensed. Mandalore was a difficult matter made more complicated by Darth Lumis, and the whole enterprise was proving itself to be a worthwhile investment. Mandalore thrived, and hundreds of systems willingly and gratefully surrendered the ability to govern themselves in exchange for the promise of safety. As a test run for his own empire, it was a resounding success, and as the war grew more ferocious, Mandalore grew in strength. Satine was a powerful ally made stronger by her intimate connection with the Dark Side, and more importantly, it was a severe strain on the Jedi, who could find no justification to interfere in the peaceful regime, despite the knowledge that a Sith Lord was in her bed, and his child was quickly growing inside her. That was bad enough, but the child was so resoundingly strong in the Force, so rife with Dark Side energy even at such an early stage that the Jedi had taken note, and it had left them not only with grave misgivings about what may come from this, but a complete inability to do anything about it. At the very least, it kept Jedi attention away from him, and for that, Lumis had to be congratulated. Manipulating the Senate was so much easier when the Jedi were looking the other way.

"We are at your service, Chancellor," Fisto said, bowing deeply as he and his companion left the room. The door slid closed, and Palpatine's genial smile dropped away into a vicious scowl. He needed to find a way to evade his Jedi security detail. He had a great deal to discuss with Lumis.

* * *

 

The Force shook as Kenobi screamed in rage, the visions before him increasing in their intensity as he fell deeper into the Dark Side. The vision was _still there_. The face in flames, burning and contorting in rage and pain, continued to torment him. He had hoped that the incident on Raydonia would see the vision fade into nothing, an image of what _had_ happened instead of what may yet still come to pass, but apparently Maul's burning had _nothing_ to do with it. He didn't think it did, but when Maul had escaped, he dared to hope. Foolishly, it would seem, because the visions only became more intense. He stopped seeing Maul, though. That warning had passed into reality and it had no business occupying the Force.

There were new visions now. They were vague, uncertain, but with focus, he drew closer to them, grabbed hold of the images and sharpened them. It was still unclear, but he saw Ventress, his old friend lost and alone and surrounded by Jedi. He saw Quinlan, clutching a lightsaber in tight, shaking hands, his eyes closed and his face darkened with rage. Again, he saw the field of dead Jedi, the young human male standing tall and strong among them, but the Togruta had grown distant and faded. She was still standing, yes, but no longer a part of the gruesome scene, and he couldn't decipher the meaning of that. Something important had changed, and while Maul was a major threat, he somehow didn't think it had anything to do with his Master's former apprentice.

He opened himself up further, loosed his tight grip on the Force, and images flashed through his mind at a blinding pace, far too fast to see. There were flames and lightsabers and pain and screams of untold agony, but he couldn't place what they were and, overwhelmed, he couldn't find the strength to slow them down and regain control. His breathing became labored, his pulse quickening as his body tightened and shook in effort, and he was jolted out of it when a small, delicate hand reached out and lightly touched his cheek.

"Focus, my Master." The gentle touch was enough. With a deep breath, he reached out and drew strength from the Jedi, his concentration returning like a rush of fresh air. The visions slowed to a crawl, and they stood out before him like a living mural of bright pastels casting impressions of what would come to be. There was the vision of Ventress and Quinlan, the dead Jedi, the face in flames, all things he had seen before. But then there was Qui-Gon. He had seen his old Master in visions before, but it was now... _different_. Brighter. _Stronger_ , still standing at the edge of darkness and keeping it at bay. Kenobi didn't know what it meant, but he knew that whatever it was that Qui-Gon was holding back, it mustn't be released. The Dark Side shrank away from the Jedi and his charge, and whatever it was, it was no ally of the Sith. He saw the Jedi Temple, smoke and flames coming from the side of the massive building, and Kenobi leaned in closer to get a better look to see if he could discern from where, but to no avail. But this wasn't news. The Jedi Temple would burn, along with all the Jedi when the Sith asserted their dominance from the ashes of the Republic.

The rest was more troubling. He saw Maul, faded and seething with rage and revenge, standing upon a _new_ pair of cybernetic legs, his brother Savage kneeling before him. Kenobi reached out and touched the vision, his hand passing through the Nightbrother's head as he tried to discern their surroundings, but it was too dark to see. Breathing deep as he focused, he drew deeper of the Jedi's reserves, and the hand at his cheek trembled, the woman gasping as she strained to do her Master's bidding. Slowly, the area began to lighten, a green, foggy haze slowly beginning to surround them, and Kenobi could feel the cold pit of dread as he looked upon it. The mist quickly burned away, and the brothers were consumed in flames as a city behind them began to burn.

Kenobi's eyes flew open and he wrenched away from Shaak Ti's touch, his heart racing once again as he pushed the visions away. He needed time to meditate on this. The Force had been unbalanced since Maul had reappeared, and now it reached to him to right the damage. He needed to find this Sith pretender, and quickly. Hondo had proven to be useful, and he knew he made the right decision when the gleeful pirate had contacted him the very next day with word of the renegade brothers. It was nothing that he could follow, a quick appearance to attack and kill two Jedi on a small moon, and then they had vanished once again, but every piece of information was worth its while, even if it didn't result in their capture. It _would_. Everyday for the next month, he had received intel from the clever pirate, and every single thing he learned about Maul and his brother allowed him to better understand them, how they worked, how bold they were, the things they would and would not touch. He would be patient and attack the brothers when he was ready, when it would not be expected. His Master would approve of biding his time. An overzealous desire to please had made him impulsive in his formative years, but he had long since overcome that. The Sith now favored devastating precision strikes, as would be executed on the Jedi, but not until the time was right.

"You know," Cody said lazily, laying draped over the bed in the corner and looking at the Sith and the Jedi, "I _could_ complain about _my_ Jedi touching you like that."

"You could. But you won't." Kenobi jumped to his feet and stretched his legs. He had been sitting in deep meditation all evening, and though he was used to such, it had been for a particularly long amount of time. His visions consumed him, and he needed understanding. "Before she is yours, she is _my_ slave. Isn't that right, Shaak Ti?" He grabbed hold of the cones of her montrails and pulled her head back, forcing her to look up into his cruel yellow eyes, and she whimpered as a shiver ran down her spine. Resistance had fled from her long ago.

"Yes, my Master..."

Cody hissed as he sat up, swinging his feet over the side of the bed and beaconing for the Togruta to come to him. Looking up at Kenobi for permission, the Sith sighed heavily and waved her off, and the Jedi gratefully rushed to the clone, sank to her knees before him and ran gentle hands over his thighs. Obi-Wan had no trouble allowing this. It kept Cody pleased and Shaak Ti in the light where he needed her, and it was greatly satisfying to watch a member of the Jedi High Council willingly submit to the carnal pleasures of her betters.

The com on his wrist beeped, and he absently dug into his robes to pull out the holodisc and frowned when he saw there was no holotransmition to go with the call. Satine usually didn't call unless she could see him, and she was busy meeting with good-will diplomats from Coruscant until the end of the week. Sliding the holodisc back into his robe, he pressed down the button to answer the call. Before he could say a word, a light, jovial voice came over the com, one he recognized immediately, and his eyes widened as he instinctually dropped to his knees to kneel.

"My friend, it's Palpatine!" Kenobi didn't move. He _never_ got calls like this from Sidious, he didn't even think he had the comlink code for that particular device. Closing his eyes, he reached out with the Force for his Master and found the connection completely blocked. Someone must have been there, or close enough to warrant discretion. He stood when he realized how ridiculous he must have looked, and with a swift nod to Cody, he left Shaak Ti's room as the clone dragged the Jedi up to attend him, taking long strides through his palace as he headed for his own room. "I'm sorry I missed your call earlier, I was in a meeting with the Jedi."

"Nothing serious, I hope," Kenobi said softly. Meetings with the Jedi were regular, but if Sidious felt the need to get in contact with him while he was being watched, it was either extremely urgent, or his Master was testing him. _Again_. He didn't mind. Obi-Wan played this game well.

"Dark time are ahead, I'm afraid," he said somberly. "I would have called you sooner, but it's been difficult to find time to myself with the protection detail I've been assigned." He chuckled softly. "If I can say anything about them, the Jedi are certainly thorough."

"They most certainly are, yes." Which explained why he hadn't simply contacted him through the Force. Jedi were watching him. Kenobi frowned. That could be very, _very_ bad, though he was certain it wasn't. Sidious was careful, and had been since before Kenobi had been born. "Is the need for protection the same as before?"

Sidious gave a long-suffering sigh. "I'm afraid so. The death threats and assassination attempts on the senators haven't ceased for over a month. Local authorities suspect it to be the work of bounty hunters and crime syndicates paid off by the Separatists, but they have found nothing to support it."

Translation: _put an end to this_. Kenobi smiled. It had been a long time since he had run an investigation like this, and while he couldn't do this one personally, it would give him a chance to test exactly how extensive Hondo's network was. "Hopefully the matter will come to an end soon."

"I do hope so!" Palpatine said with laughter in his voice. "It's getting tiresome being watched all the time."

" _All_ the time?"

"Well, not _all_ the time," he amended. "They are standing guard just outside my rooms. They say they can sense everything that happens in here." He laughed. "Can you _imagine_ such a thing!"

"Not at all..." That gave him a little more freedom in what he could say, though not a great deal more. The call could still be monitored.

"I hear you saw a mutual acquaintance the other day," he said kindly, but Kenobi could feel himself tense. This may have been the cause of the call. Sidious may have been more angry about Maul escaping than he anticipated. It was senseless to dance around the matter.

"Your name did come up, yes," he said softly. His pace through his palace slowed as he approached his rooms, and he absently laid his hand on the console on the wall, and the door hissed open. He stepped inside and went straight to the large windows that overlooked the lava flows, and he sat before it, eyes closed as he felt the warmth radiating off the glass. "It wasn't for long, though, he had a flight to catch."

"Oh, what a shame," Palpatine said. "I do hope you get to see him again _very_ soon. I know you haven't seen each other for a long time. You have a great deal to catch up on, I'm sure."

" _Very_ soon, yes. He has entered into a family enterprise, and I am open to doing business with him, if it seems profitable to my firm."

"Do you suspect it will be?" he asked, curious, and Kenobi laid his hand on the window, a soft smile on his face as he imagined Maul's first demise, and what his second may look like.

"No, it seems unlikely," Kenobi said softly. "The work they do is substandard to their field. I fear that I may have to terminate any potential contracts with them."

"A pity," Palpatine said, a light chuckle in his voice that denoted approval. "But you must do what you can to secure your interests."

"I agree."

Kenobi could hear muffled talking on the other end of the com, voices he couldn't hear or recognize, and Palpatine's humble response of, "No, thank you, Masters. I will be quite alright." More muffled talking followed. "Just an old friend of mine from the Legislative Youth Program on Naboo." More talking, then the soft, easy laugh of the Chancellor. "Yes, it had been difficult to find the time, but it is always nice to get in contact with old friends." Palpatine laughed again. "It _has_ been a long time since I have seen you," he said, his attention returned to Kenobi again. "How is your family?"

" _Very_ well," he said proudly. Exactly how long had it been since he had really had a chance to speak to his Master? He put his forehead to the warm glass when he realized that it hadn't been since his trip to Coruscant nearly four months prior. _Lots_ had happened. "On all fronts. Grandfather and I have finally reconciled. He had some trouble with his live-in help, and resolving that matter seems to have mended our difficulties."

"It pleases me to hear that." He sounded more curious than actually pleased. It seemed as though Dooku hadn't been speaking with Sidious either, though that was almost certainly because their Master had made himself unavailable. "I'm sorry, I did not hear about this help of his."

Kenobi hissed, his swift mind racing through how best to explain Dathomir _without_ explaining what had happened. From as far as he could tell, it didn't seem as though the Jedi had known about it either, so it was unlikely that Sidious had heard about the massacre. "Do you remember the woman that he had hired to be his bodyguard?"

"I do."

" _Well_ , it turns out she was a bit of a criminal. When he found out and fired her, she came back with a _very_ large friend and tried to rob him blind." He laid back on the floor and closed his eyes, bathing in the glow of the lava. It was... _relaxing_ to hear his Master again, comforting even though there was no flow of the Force between them at the moment. "I happened to be visiting and drove them off. He and I have been getting along _very_ well ever since."

"How frightening!" Palpatine gasped. "I do hope those rogues do not return when you aren't around."

"I find that to be very unlikely. It seems that the entire idea came from their mother, and I heard that a rival crime syndicate had a dispute with them and wiped them out."

"Their _mother_?" the Chancellor said in disbelief. "How dreadful. Was she killed as well?"

"I'm uncertain. It seems to me that those types are in the habit of never dying when you expect them to."

"I fear for your safety," Palpatine whispered. "If she planned it, and she's still alive, than she may yet come after you."

"I doubt it," Kenobi scoffed. "It seems like this particular syndicate is more feared than Black Sun these days among the crime lords."

"Are they really?" he asked in disbelief. "I haven't heard of such a thing."

"You are running a Republic at war, my friend. You can't be expected to dirty your hands with petty criminals."

"That _is_ true..." he sighed wearily. "Still, I am pleased to hear that you and your grandfather are safe and working together once again."

"As am I."

"And your wife?"

"Busy," he said slowly. "Her own work keeps her away from me much more than I would like, but she and her sister are doing a fair bit of good in bringing order to their own small piece of the galaxy."

"A noble effort," Palpatine said. "With a war as terrible as this, one must strive to find peace where they can make it."

"Well, we found it," Kenobi said with a genuine smile on his face. "She's pregnant"

Palpatine gasped in joy. "Is she really?" He laughed, and called to the Jedi, happily repeating the news, which was met with soft, short responses. "Congratulations, my friend! How far along is she?"

"Four months. She is beginning to show now."

"And do you know the gender? Have you run the genetic tests?"

Kenobi stretched out and sighed happily for a moment, but his chest quickly tensed. Sidious was gauging the child. His future apprentice. He swallowed hard. He could lie to him, but it wouldn't serve him, especially not now when the child could be clearly detected in the Force. His Master must have sensed him, since he was so invested in this outcome. All he could do was be honest and take comfort in the knowledge that what Sidious knew about his son was irrelevant. The Sith Master would be dead before the child was old enough to train.

"A boy," he said slowly. "And yes, the tests have come back with _several_ of my genetic markers."

"Hopefully not the wrong ones!" the Chancellor said gleefully.

"No, no, it appears as though with the right education, my son will far surpass me." It was supplicant, meek, and conveyed exactly what Sidious had wanted to hear. Kenobi could hear him practically beaming from across the com.

"I would be happy to give you whatever references you may require. I have a great many connections to several prestigious youth programs across the Republic."

"I was hoping you would." The meaning was clear: _my son is yours, Master_. If Sidious thought otherwise, there was no doubt that Satine would be taken from him and murdered as soon as she had bore the child. Kenobi had no qualms about bending to an old man's pride. After all, he would be dead soon enough, and Darth Lumis would rise as Lord of the Sith. Soon. _Soon_.

"I did have one question for you, my friend," Palpatine asked, his voice an almost secretive whisper, and Kenobi felt his chest tighten. Had Sidious _heard_ his thoughts? He shook his head of the idea. It wasn't possible. Their connection was blocked, and to reach that far would require a tremendous pull of the Dark Side, a thing he could not afford with Jedi present. "I've seen a strange thing I thought you could help explain."

"I shall do my best."

"Our soldiers have occasionally been fighting these... _creatures_." Kenobi held his breath. _This_ could be bad. "They look like sentient species, but they were reported to act almost rabid, and their bodies looked sickly."

"You don't say..."

"Yes, it's very frightening," he said somberly. "But I remember you once researched a disease among the native Gungans that caused them to behave in a similar manner. Do you believe this could be the cause of an illness?"

 _He knew_. Sidious knew that he had created Sithspawn. He had rehearsed many times what he would tell his Master when he learned of his experiments, but Kenobi didn't think he'd have to explain this soon, and certainly not while speaking in riddles. He took a deep breath and held it.

"I'm not sure. I would have to see this specimen of yours. But..." He ran a hand down his face. "What I found in the Gungans was a corruption of their bodies at a cellular level caused by an imported virus. Some... _biological_ agent introduced to their systems. They angered a great many people with their defense of Naboo, and we know the Separatists sink to these disgusting levels all the time."

"They do," Palpatine agreed. "But _how_ do you suspect such a thing could be done?"

Kenobi tapped his chin. "All I have is speculation, but...on my research trip in the outer rim, I came across a species of humanoids that had been altered by a powerful environmental contagion. Contact and use with this force seemed to change them over time. Were I to guess, a similar principle was applied to the Gungans, but instead of this contagion changing those that came in contact with it in their daily lives over a longer period, the Gungans were _forced_ to endure intense exposure to an agent or a virus that changed them in the span of days."

Palpatine was quiet for a moment, and Kenobi held his breath in the silence. "Interesting..." the Chancellor said softly, sounding so much like his Master instead of the sniveling politician. "I'm not quite sure I fully understand. When next we meet, I would be _very_ interested in learning more about this."

 _Fantastic_. "It would be my pleasure."

"I fear I have taken up enough of your time," Palpatine said, a soft chuckle in his voice. "It's getting late, and I would hate to keep you from your wife. Please, give her my fondest regards, and I hope to see you _very_ soon."

"As do I..." The com fell to static, than silence as the call dropped, and with a groan, Obi-Wan ran his hands over his face and through his hair. It could certainly have gone worse. He didn't sense Sidious' displeasure or anger, just curiosity and peaked interest, which was good. Or very, very bad. Regardless, there was nothing to be done about it now, and he had his future directives. Destroy Maul, locate Talzin, and investigate the threats on the Senate to free the Master for ease of movement. It was simple enough, except for the stuff that wasn't. Groaning, he got to his feet, stretched, and crushed the com beneath his heel. It wouldn't do for anyone to trace that call back to him, and while he was certain that his Master had taken the necessary precautions to ensure that didn't happen, Obi-Wan didn't leave anything to chance. He needed to go to Mandalore. Satine was a willing accomplice in his designs. She'd sooth the anxiety right out of him. The delegations she was entertaining could be easily avoided, and at night, she would be _all_ his. He had enough practice sneaking around for years. What was a little while longer when he would be Emperor beside her soon enough?


	74. In the Shadows

"You are _weak_ ," Ventress snapped, retracting her lightsaber and crossing her arms as she looked down at the panting, beaten Quinlan Vos. This was the latest of several training sessions they had since their meeting on Level 1313, and it wouldn't be the last. True to her word, Ventress had found Vos every single place he went, and he had to grudgingly admit that while she wasn't at his level of expertise, she was a damn fine tracker.

She was also kicking his ass.

"You know," he gasped, rising to his feet, "Dooku is an old man. He isn't going to fight like you."

"You're right, he isn't." She smiled at him gently as he grinned, and then viciously lashed out with her hand and smacked him on the back of his head. Quinlan groaned in irritation, rubbing the spot she had hit. "Dooku is _better_ than me. He always has been! And besides, he isn't the problem." She crossed her arms and glared at the Jedi. "Your problem is his support. Your problem is General Grievous and Obi-Wan Kenobi."

"...aw, shit."

"Did you honestly think it would be as easy as just walking in, killing him, and walking out?"

"N-no, but-"

She pushed him back on to the stump of a fallen tree. Qalydon was remote world, covered in forests and small settlements, though many of the forests had been thinned by a recent clash between Republic and Separatist forces. Asajj didn't understand why they were fighting on a world that held literally no galactic importance, but there were always things she didn't see. It may have had something to do with the abundance of pirates. The Sertar Sector was notoriously lawless and had become more so when a band of local pirates had suddenly expanded their territory. Asajj paid them no mind, just as she paid the Republic and the Confederacy no mind either. It wasn't her business, and so long as she kept to her business, they would leave her alone as well.

"But nothing," she growled. "I know you have defeated Grievous before, but Obi-Wan is stronger than you, faster than you, and smarter than you, _idiot_."

Quinlan grinned brightly. "Hey! The last time you called me an idiot was over three hours ago!" He leaned in closer to her, but she held her ground. "I must be warming up to you..."

She patted his head like he were some big, stupid pet. "It's _adorable_ that you think that, _idiot_." She stepped back and shrugged. "It's pointless getting attached when the Sith are just going to kill you."

Quinlan scoffed and crossed his arms, his eyes closed and his breath calm and even. Ventress looked him over, felt the Force within him, sensed the touch of the Dark Side stark upon his soul, dark and angry, but far from grasping him in its hold. It was good that he was not consumed, but his restraint was keeping him from grabbing hold of power. He needed something else. Ventress didn't know what drove him to darkness, what kept him falling into the shadows of the Force, but it wasn't enough. Dooku's death was keeping him motivated, but most Jedi were driven. Quinlan Vos needed to be more.

"I saw what you did to Grievous," she said softly. "I was there on Kamino. He was torn apart. I have _never_ seen him like that. He is no stranger to losing limbs, he can afford to be reckless because he can just replace them, but he was _afraid_." The Jedi looked away, and Ventress grabbed his chin and forced him to look at her. "What did you do? _How_ did you do it?"

"...he was going to kill my Padawan," he said softly. "I couldn't stand to lose her, and Obi-Wan-" He froze, his voice catching in his throat for a moment before he swallowed and continued. "We had talked about power before. And the Dark Side, and how the infinite fury of the Force is right at the fingertips of anyone with sensitivity to it. So I took hold of it and-"

"And you used the Dark Side to save her." Vos nodded. "That's good. Your emotions give you strength. You feel deeply, Vos, and that does not speak of non-attachment."

Quinlan smiled slightly. "I've never been the best Jedi."

"And that's what makes you right for this task." Ventress frowned. "But it isn't good enough." She pointed to one of the long, fallen trees that lay upon the ground through the cut trail of the droid artillery tanks. "I need you to move that from here..." She swept her finger across the deep scar in the woods, and stopped when she pointed to a large hill looming in the distance. "To up there." With a smirk, Quinlan rubbed his hands together, the Force surging around him, but he stopped when Ventress lay a firm hand on his shoulder. " _Without_ the Force."

"What?" The Kiffar laughed, but it quickly died away when he saw how serious the woman was. "...you're serious? _Why_! Why would I do that when I could just _use the Force_."

"Because while you're being lazy and taking shortcuts, Obi-Wan has been _training_ , not just his mind, not just his Force talents, and not just his lightsaber skills, but his body as well." She crossed her arms and glared at him, taking in every little detail about him and as before, she found him _lacking_. Pleasing to look at, perhaps, but lacking. "You cannot afford to allow Obi-Wan to hold any advantage over you. You're bigger than he is, which is good. It will allow you to be physically stronger, if you're diligent in your training. Remember, you don't need to _beat_ him. You just need to get past him."

"This is why I need a partner..." he grumbled, and Ventress just laughed.

"A sacrifice, is more like. It would be a fair distraction, yes, if it works, but whoever you send against him will not survive."

"It will if it's Master Yoda."

Ventress shot him a look of disbelief. "And you think your Jedi Master will condone what you are doing?"

"... _no_..."

She put a hand on his back and pushed him forward. "Then get moving. I need that on the top of the hill." With a displeased, unamused look on his tattooed face, Quinlan grabbed hold of the massive trunk and slowly began to maneuver it toward the hill. In the short time they had been working together, Vos _had_ made improvements. Large ones. He was stronger, faster, could more effortlessly harness his frustrations and stir them into anger if needed. He gripped the Dark Side more easily now, pulled at it in his anger and, as she had taught him, could quickly let go afterwards so that the darkness never had the time to sink its poisonous touch within him. For smaller things, it was serving him well. His talent and speed with a lightsaber increased in its ferocity, and he was proving to be a quick and able student, so much so that Ventress was _enjoying_ working with him. The first week, they had met once. Twice the next week. Four times the week after that, and this week, Ventress had worked with him every single day. She wasn't attached. This Jedi was going to die, but she found the company an amusing diversion from her own thoughts.

For a while, she even believed that perhaps Vos could do it. He was dedicated and driven, single-minded in his belief that Dooku had to die, but it was driven from a place of compassion, not rage, which is what he would need to harness the power he needed, to drive the softness from his heart that would keep him from hesitating when the moment came. Murder had been easy for Asajj to embrace, but this was a Jedi _Master_. He lived his whole life in the Temple, had been raised to hold all life sacred, trained not to kill out of anger if he had to kill at all. But against a Sith Lord, this just wasn't an option. Dooku could only be killed by someone with hatred in their heart, of this she was certain, and while Quinlan had a great deal of anger, pure, unbound hatred wasn't something that rested within him. Not yet.

"You can get past Grievous," she said, walking behind him as the Jedi grunted in strained effort as he began to roll the massive log up the hill. "You have done it before, and while he _is_ dangerous, it isn't anything you can't handle. The Force _isn't_ with him like it is with you. Obi-Wan is going to be your greater difficulty."

"Can't I just _hope_ he's not there?" he said between teeth clenched tight as he forced his weight behind the heavy log.

"You can, and you will die for it. You may think that he will not kill you because he hasn't in the past, but never forget what he is. He is _Sith_ , and he was chosen for a reason. You must be stronger than him. Faster than him. Smarter than him. I have seen how he trains. I have seen the single-mindedness his Master has driven in to him. Every moment you are not training, every second you waste being drunk or carousing, know that your opponent is training. He is tireless, and he will _never_ stop."

"You are _so_ encouraging..."

She watched as the strong muscles in his back and arms tensed and shook, an intense focus behind him that drove him past his physical limitations. He was stubborn. She liked that in a person. "Your friendship with him won't make him hesitate. If he believes you are somehow against him or the Sith, it won't matter how close you are, it won't matter how strong your friendship is, because he will turn on you in an instant like he did with-" She stopped herself suddenly and bit down on her tongue, the familiar feelings of hurt and pain and sadness and rage beginning to fill her. With a final push and a growl of effort, Vos pushed the log up onto the hill's plateau. Ventress looked out on the expanse of the woods around him, saw the deep scars of battle on the forest, saw the lights of the Republic encampment in the distance.

"But Obi-Wan _gave_ me the idea..." the Jedi wheezed, sitting on the log and hands on his knees as he caught his breath, sweat rolling off his face and dripping into the soft dirt at his feet. "Yeah, he said he'd fight against me, but-"

"He knows you're coming, that's all this means," Ventress said dismissively. She looked at the Jedi, and almost took a step away from him when she found his dark brown eyes looking at her expectantly, _sympathetically_ , and she had to slam the door shut on her emotions when she felt herself tremble. She was _not_ attached to this man, but his likeabilty was infectious, so like Kenobi. She could see why they got along. In many ways, they were opposites. Over the days she had gotten to know Quinlan, she had found him to be disorganized to Kenobi's meticulous nature, laid back to the Sith's uptight, impulsive to Obi-Wan's careful planning. And yet, she could see how they would get along, how it would have been so easy for them to become close, and perhaps because of this, she was drawn to Quinlan Vos, the ease in which he approached her so reminiscent of Obi-Wan, and despite her reluctance to admit it, she _did_ ache for her lost friend.

Just as Quinlan did.

"What did he do to you?" Vos asked quietly, but it rang in Ventress ears, and she couldn't look away from those dark, compassionate eyes. But she could steel herself against it. There was no room for compassion in what it was Vos was trying to do. If he wanted to live, he would need to burn it out of him.

"Your sympathy is a weakness," she managed to snarl, stepping away from him and looking at him with disgust. "Your understanding will lead you to hesitate when you will need to act. Harden yourself, Vos, or Kenobi will drag you with him into the Dark Side and you will _never_ return."

The Jedi scoffed. "Of course that's easy for you, you were raised in darkness."

"Oh?" she asked, her lips twisting into a cruel, amused smirk. "I was train by a Jedi, just as you were, _idiot_."

Quinlan almost fell off the log he sat on, but quickly gripped the rough, flaking bark and held on. " _You_?!" he gasped breathlessly, and Asajj felt herself burn with old pain, long past but never quite healed. Hatred had a way of keeping wounds gaping, bleeding and open, and the Dark Side ensured that they never healed quite right.

"Yes..." she hissed slowly, taking a few steps away from the Jedi and sitting cross-legged in the dirt. Vos followed suit, sliding off the log and leaning back against it. He wanted to be closer, she could see, driven by deep sympathy for what he assumed was terrible pain to make her choose the path she did, but he kept a respectful distance. "I was taken as a slave when I was very young, and when my Master was killed, a Jedi discovered my Force talents and took me to train."

"Who?" Quinlan asked, leaning forward as if she was telling him some great secret. "Why weren't you taken back to the Temple?"

"Master Ky Narec," she whispered, and Quinlan slowly scooted forward to hear better. "And he was stranded on the planet. I never understood why, but the Jedi never came for him. He didn't seem to mind. Rattatak was crawling with injustice, and he was intent to right it all. And I was with him." She smiled sadly as the all too familiar pain washed through her. It seemed like such a small thing, now that her people had all been executed, but the Sith had taught her that even the smallest pain could be fatal. "Ten years, he served as my Master."

"Ten years!" Vos said in disbelief. He could feel his respect for the woman growing by the second, which he didn't think was possible, not because she was a thing he could not respect, but because he respected her a great deal already. She was strong, fierce, a true warrior, and one that had the strength to turn away from the Dark Side. It was everything he needed to be. "That's long enough for a Padawan to become a Knight. Asajj, you were a _Jedi_." He laughed and ran a hand through his hair. "I had _no_ idea."

"I _was_ ," she said darkly. "My Master was killed, and it was over for me then. Rage consumed me, and I destroyed the pirates responsible for his death, but even that wasn't enough. Without his killers, my wrath turned to the Jedi that abandoned him. I _hated_ them. If your Order saw it fit to come to get him, he wouldn't have died so far away from home."

Quinlan said nothing. There was nothing he _could_ say. He understood, he really did. He had seen Obi-Wan's fall, both in his visions and in person, and it was marked time and time again by betrayals and failures of the Jedi. Even he was angry with the Council for their lack of vision, their pathetically slow response at dealing with the Sith threat, their reluctance to do what needed to be done, their failure at seeing darkness when it was standing right beside them. Like Dooku. Like Obi-Wan. Like the enthralled Eeth Koth. Like... _himself_. He swallowed hard and cleared the ides from his mind. What he was doing was different. He was seeing the bigger picture, making a sacrifice for the well-being of everyone, just like Jedi were _supposed_ to do. He'd be forgiven for what he was going to do. He wasn't _falling_ , he was just venturing closer to the edge.

"Dooku found me then," she continued softly, and Vos thought she sounded almost defeated. "He wanted an apprentice that was like him, and I served him well. He showed me how to focus and harness my rage into power, and Kenobi taught me how to refine it. And then the Sith betrayed me."

"They usually do."

She nodded. "I returned home to Dathomir, and the Nightsisters welcomed me back with open arms, and twice, with them at my side, I sought revenge on Dooku. Twice, I failed." She growled in anger, her hand clenching into a fist, and Vos could feel the Dark Side, strong and hungry, fly to her. "And then the Sith struck back. The details are unimportant, but Dooku sent an army to annihilate us, and Kenobi led the charge."

"All of them?" Vos choked. He couldn't believe it. A _massacre_ on Dathomir? He and Obi-Wan had been to Dathomir, met with the clan's mother, she had helped aid them in their search for the Sith. There were hundreds of women living in their subterranean temple in harmony with the nature around them. _Yes_ , the nature was of the Dark Side, but it was still beautiful. It was difficult to imagine all of them slaughtered by Sith evil. It was even harder to imagine Obi-Wan doing it. But worst of all was thinking about the pain and the suffering that Asajj Ventress felt, and without thinking, Quinlan reached out and grabbed her hand.

"I am _so_ sorry..." he gasped, feeling her pain in his chest, and for a long moment, Ventress didn't move. She just looked at him, blue eyes filled with pain and disbelief, like even she could not believe that it had been real. A moment later and she pulled her hand away, her pale skin flushing slightly as she turned from him.

"Don't be," Ventress said, her voice cracking with emotion, and she growled deeply, her hands balling into the dirt. She brought Vos here to teach him of the Dark Side, to make him strong enough to face Dooku, not so he could comfort her like some mewling babe. Why had she even told him about all this? It was irrelevant to his training. Her heart ached none the less. It was the first time she had spoken aloud what had happened, but she couldn't understand what compelled her to do so. "Never turn from your pain, Vos. Never hide it or brush it away. Always face it head on, take it inside you, let yourself focus on fear and anger and hatred, and the Dark Side will be drawn to your presence."

The Jedi started to protest, but quickly stopped himself and shook his head. "I understand," he said slowly. "I can't imagine what it's like to lose what you have lost, but I know well what it's like to lose a Master."

Sudden realization struck her, in its brilliance and malice, and she felt her skin begin to crawl. Before she could stop herself, she said, "Master Tholme."

Ventress winced as brown eyes dark with anger whipped up to stare at her "You were there..." he said, his voice without any warmth or expression that she had come to expect from this carefree Jedi, from this kind-hearted man that was far too caring to kill anything. _This_ was his passage to the Dark Side. _This_ was how he would have the strength to murder Dooku, but it would all be for nothing if he learned the truth. She had killed him, and it was Obi-Wan that had sent her to do it. How long had Kenobi been planning the fall of this Jedi?

She could fix this. "No," she lied, surprised at how easily it had come to her. "But I heard about it. It was early in the war, Dooku bragged about it to Kenobi, said he'd never be able to kill a Jedi. Dooku killed your Master."

Vos' shoulders slumped, and he stared almost lifeless at the ground in front of him, but Ventress could feel it. Darkness filled him, cold and grim and vicious as he was gripped with a burning need for vengeance for the Master he had loved and lost. "I never knew..." he said in a bitter growl. "I always thought that I could have saved him if I was there, I should have been with him, I _wanted_ to be with him, but I was sent somewhere else..."

The lie had worked better than she thought. This wasn't a Jedi. Quinlan Vos was attached and emotional, hedonistic and free-spirited with a disregard for rules, something he saw as made to be broken. And now, confronted with an explanation for his Master's death, something that had obviously been denied to him, he accepted Ventress' explanation at face value, blinded by emotion that he was not used to feeling in such intensity. She had not only managed to give him a personal motivation for seeking Dooku's death, but it seemed as though she had somehow managed to ignite resentment toward the Jedi. She had sensed dissatisfaction from him before that ran much deeper than this, but now, it was at the forefront.

"Let this anger guide you, Quinlan," Ventress said softly, laying a hand on his knee, and she felt him flinch, the Dark Side rearing up in rage that quickly gave way to... _something_. She couldn't look at it. It was pulling her in, making her feel the same way too. "Your anger over the death of your Master will give you strength and focus. Keep it close, _use_ these emotions."

"I was trained not to use those emotions..." he said, his voice hollow and distant, and Ventress lay a long fingered, pale hand on his cheek and forced him to look at her.

"When you were a Jedi, that may have been true, but this thing cannot be done the Jedi way, and _you_ haven't been a Jedi for a long time."

"No, w-wait, I-"

"I found you in a bar so drunk you could barely stand, and for what?" Ventress scoffed. "To stop thinking about those who die while Dooku lives. A Jedi doesn't _drink_ to dull the pain, Quinlan Vos."

"...I am a Jedi," Quinlan said softly. "This is for the good of everyone. I have _always_ walked the edge. I have always kept to the shadows of the Force, but I am _not dark_. If I was committed to the Dark Side, if this is something I _wanted_ , I'd be with Obi-Wan right now, not you. He wants me to fall, I know that. He has said as much." He took her hand in his, clutching it hard at first, and then running a gentle finger across her palm. "I need you...everyone agrees that this _assassination_ is a thing of the Dark Side, that Dooku cannot be killed by anything less, and I believe it. I _will_ kill him, and you're going to teach me how to come back from the darkness."

Ventress sighed heavily and looked away from him. "You really are an idiot, aren't you?" He was resolved, she saw, and there could be no doubt that he was doing this for the Jedi, despite his frustrations. This wasn't a man that sought power like Obi-Wan, or influence like Dooku. Quinlan Vos turned to the Dark Side for _peace_. And perhaps that was enough. "You're still going to have to kill," she reminded him, and he grimly nodded. "Your training cannot continue until you do."

"...I know." The last time they tried, it had ended in rather embarrassing failure. Ventress had coaxed a small amphibious creature to her and killed it with the Dark Side, and Vos' attempt to follow her lead ended in him getting bit by a dozen small, sharp teeth as the creature escaped. He was reluctant to try again. The animal was innocent, the killing senseless, and he was too soft-hearted to follow through. His hesitation had cost him the kill, and such reluctance, even for a moment, would see him die by Dooku's hand.

"Just remember that your emotions give you strength. We have found your way to grasp the Dark Side." She leaned in close to him, her hand on his wrist feeling the pulse of his heart quicken. " _Use it_."

"...I'll try."

"Trying will only lead you to failure. Just do it."

Quinlan laughed nervously, leaning back to put some distance between them, but she was far too close, and his heart was beating far too fast. This _never_ happened to him. "I am not accustomed to using emotions like this, the Jedi-"

"The Jedi taught you about _many_ emotions you are not supposed to use," she said, her voice low and husky, and she found herself leaning closer to him, despite the warnings in her mind. This was a _Jedi_ , and not only that, but one that would soon be fighting Dooku. She didn't want revenge, she wanted to be far, _far_ away from the Sith, as far away as possible, and here it looked as though she were training _another_ assassin. She wouldn't do it. She _couldn't_ do it, not again. Not when she had learned that being alone was for the best...

But she could feel it in him from the first day they met. Vos was carnal, no stranger to pleasure and passion, and Obi-Wan had often spoken of his exploits, of how often missions went wrong because some girl had told her father about what the rogue had done to her. And he _was_ appealing, in many ways. She laid a hand over his heart and could feel it pounding, the Force swirling with desire. "Do you deny those emotions too?" she asked, knowing full well what the answer was.

He whimpered, a sound born from both desire and anguish, and to Ventress, it sounded as if something had broken inside of him. He grabbed her, pulled her close, and kissed her.

Neither was a stranger to physical passion, clearly, and Ventress had the benefit of a Sith education under Obi-Wan Kenobi, who was as much about sexual delight as he was about inflicting cruel suffering on others, and she had reaped the benefits of both as he dragged her between Mustafar and Mandalore. But this was different. This was...something. Ventress didn't know what it was, but two months suffering over the fate of her sisters had weighed on her, perhaps weakened her resolve, and she would be damned if the Sith would have the last word. She had been left alive to suffer, to live with the knowledge that, at any time, the Sith could destroy all she held dear. The Dark Side would _not_ define her. Not anymore.

They only pulled away when Quinlan's comlink began to beep, jumping when they had heard it, and they frantically untangled themselves as if they had been caught doing something that was expressly forbidden. It felt that way, at least.

"Master!" came the young, flustered voice over the com, and Vos' chest puffed with pride. His Padawan. Ventress scooted away from the Jedi to give the man room to breathe. "Where are you! You weren't drinking with the clones like usual!"

" _Well_ ," he drawled, "I met this girl from the village and-"

"No, stop! Don't tell me again, _please_!" the Padawan cried, and Quinlan snickered wickedly. "You're going to need to leave her wanting, Master, we got an emergency call from Coruscant!"

The got the Jedi's attention. In a moment, he was on his feet and striding down the hill with Ventress following curiously behind. "What happened?"

"We're being sent to Florrum since we're so close to the system. We're going to meet Adi Gallia and Even Piell there for an assault on the planet." He could almost hear the Togruta grinning. "They found him, Master. They found Darth Maul."


	75. Wrath of the Dark Side

"Laser sword wielding _maniacs_!"the pirate cried as he paced out of range of the holotransmitter, and then quickly darted back. "What kind of a menace have you brought to my system! Horn headed crazies, that's what!"

"Peace, Hondo. I have the fastest ship in the galaxy, and I'm on the way." As it was, the powerful engines of the _Umbra_ were whining in protest, but Florrum wasn't far from Mandalore, and he had already reverted to real space inside the Sertar Sector. Pressing the capacity of the ship for the last ten minutes of the trip would be well worth it for Maul's death. "What's your status?"

"Three of my lieutenants have turned on me! _Me_! And for that lunatic!" He scoffed dramatically. "They've taken three of my starships and are threatening to attack!" Hondo pointed an accusing finger at the Sith. "You said you would protect me!"

"Yes, from the Separatists," Obi-Wan growled, pressing the engines harder and cringing when the whining increased. "I said nothing about defending you from your own men." He frowned and cut the ship lighting, the shields and the weapon systems, and the whining died to a low hum. Flipping a few switches, he diverted all the additional power to the thrusters, and Kenobi was pressed back into his seat as the ship increased speed.

"But what about the crazies!" Hondo shouted, flailing his arms in the air. "Are you going to defend me from _them_?!"

"Oh, _absolutely_." The engine was whining. The _Umbra_ had never gone so fast before, and Kenobi ran his hand over the control console, quietly cooing encouragements to it. "This past month, we've seen Maul rear his ugly head occasionally to kill the odd Jedi and attack cargo ships and rob them absolutely blind. If you're hunted by everyone, I suppose it's the only thing you'd be able to turn to. But _this_ ," he said softly, absently stroking his beard. "This is something different. What is he planning..."

"Who cares!" Hondo snapped, picking up his blaster and priming it. "We'll just blast them out of the sky." Get here fast, Kenobi." The transmission ended, and Obi-Wan cut more systems to give the engines extra power. In the past month since his return, Maul had been terrorizing the Outer Rim, if the Republic and Jedi reports were to be believed. In actuality, he had been a mild nuisance at best. The odd stolen freighter, the occasional grand theft, and a few dead Jedi were nothing to get excited about these days. After all, with Jedi being occupied with fighting the Republic's war, crime had been thriving all over the galaxy, given free reign to do as they liked without the Jedi Order around to police them. Maul was small time next to the likes of the Black Sun or the Pyke Syndicate, but this recent stunt seemed as though he were seeking to change that.

This little show of force, from what Hondo had described, wasn't about wealth or stealing a new ship. This was a recruitment, and criminals rarely had to be pressed very hard to be convinced to adjust their loyalties. Hondo was different, yes, but it seemed his men were not. When he left Satine's bed, he was expecting a duel, not a battlefield. It was an irritation, and it pressed him for time he did not have. Still, the element of surprise was on his side. Maul wouldn't escape again.

But recruiting for _what_? Did Maul still fancy himself a Lord of the Sith? Did he call himself Master when he was a master of _nothing_? It was arrogance, and he would suffer for it. Maul and his brother were made very difficult to track because their path had seemed random and without reason, and the second they became something larger than a pair of bandits, finding them would become a very simple thing. After all, it seemed as though Maul sought to lead. He may have been trained to serve, but without his Master, the once-Sith no doubt figured himself worthy of rule, as the Sith were always meant to be. Kenobi was actually a bit surprised that the Jedi hadn't expended their resources in searching for the two Zabrak. They had killed _many_ Jedi and showed no sign of stopping any time soon. But then, they hadn't been looking very hard for _him_ either. That, or they were simply just spread so thin that a concentrated effort would mean sacrificing ground to the Separatists.

Florrum grew swiftly larger in the forward viewport, and Kenobi flew around the planet to bring himself toward Hondo's hideout, slowing just enough to make entry into the atmosphere possible without burning up his beloved ship. He accomplished the task smoothly, easily, his nerves stilling as he quickly approached the pirate compound, and as he drew closer, stray blaster fire shooting into the air, he engaged the landing mechanisms as he looked out at the scene. It was chaos, to put it mildly, and he suspected that nobody knew who they were shooting at. But what got Kenobi's attention were three Eta-class shuttles, set down next to each other up upon the ledge of the cliff face that surrounded the pirate's compound.

 _Jedi_.

Obi-Wan growled in frustration, the Dark Side pulled toward him in a mighty wave. It wasn't surprising, all things considered. It was a bold move for the former Sith to try and gather an army like this, and if the Jedi had been tracking him at all, such actions would draw attention, and there were always Republic forces out in the area. They would be close enough to get here first, even with warning from Hondo. It was a distraction that Kenobi didn't need, though depending on the Jedi that were sent, he could find a way to turn this to his advantage. With the _Umbra_ 's stealth engaged, he landed on the cliff face above the pirate's compound. The last thing he needed was his ship being stolen or destroyed. The plan was to get in and out with as little notice to his presence as possible, but that would likely not happen. Things _never_ went to plan.

Obi-Wan stepped out of the ship and immediately centered himself in the Force and cloaked himself in shadows. The bright, blinding heat of Florrum's primary and the complete lack of vegetation on the desert world made for little shade for perfect concealment, but he had been practicing. He could still be seen, yes, but only if someone were looking for him. To the unaware, he could simply walk by unnoticed, the Force around him acting as a shield that passively compelled others to take no note of the Sith, so long as he did nothing to draw attention to himself. But once he made others aware of his presence, the game was up. He would need more time to perfect this skill, but for now, it may have been enough.

He rushed around the top of the ledge toward Hondo's ship yard, a collection of freighters and starships that ranged from derelict to luxurious, no two the same and all of them stolen. But most importantly, Kenobi could see the distinctive clash of lightsabers. He slowed as he got closer, crouching down and keeping himself concealed in the Force, and he leaned his head over the ledge to look down at the blindingly fast movements of red, green and blue weapons as they sparked and clashed against each other. The combatants were lithe and athletic, some more than others, but all _extremely_ powerful. These weren't Jedi Knights. These were _Masters_. And not just any Masters, these sat on the High Council. Kenobi scoffed bitterly. _Now_ they took the Sith threat seriously, and Maul and Savage weren't even Sith.

Calm washed over Kenobi as he surveyed Adi Gallia and Even Piell struggle against the brothers. Both these Jedi sat on the Council when Skywalker had been brought to the Temple, had been present during his own struggles against Jedi during his hunt for the Sith, and for a moment, Kenobi considered using the one strike he would have from the cover of stealth to execute one of the Jedi. Movement from the edge of his vision caught his attention, and gold eyes snapped to the figures of two more Jedi, green sabers in hand, rushing to rejoin the fight. Kenobi grinned. Quinlan Vos and his Padawan. He couldn't possibly have asked for better fortune in this matter. The Jedi were still a problem, yes, but the threat was significantly lessened with the Kiffar present. He shifted his focus back to Maul. The Jedi were all going to die anyway. Maul was the greater threat. Patience and perfect timing would see the red Zabrak struck down before anyone had a chance to act. All he had to do was...

 _Now_.

Obi-Wan dove off the ledge, his hand on the lightsabers at his waist as he fell toward Maul, and moments before he came crashing down onto the Zabrak's spiked head, he drew and ignited the weapons, holding them out crossed before him. Obi-Wan slashed outwards toward the Zabrak's neck, but the red blade of his target suddenly came sweeping up, meeting Kenobi's crossed twin sabers above his head just before the moment of impact, the full force of Obi-Wan's body weight and the strength of the rapid fall forcing Maul to his knees, but he held his weapon up. With a furious snarl, the Zabrak pushed back with the Force and sent Obi-Wan flying back, but the Sith caught himself, twisting in the air and landing on his feet a few feet away, and swiftly ran to re-engage.

All of them were stunned by the new arrival, none of them having sensed his presence until the last moment, and it was an advantage Kenobi wasn't going to loose. His focus narrowing to Maul, Obi-Wan lashed out with his weapons, black and red leaving a blinding trail of violent light behind them, the air itself screaming as it was sliced with the plasma blades. The advantage didn't last long as Maul's shock quickly turned to unbridled rage, the Zabrak shooting his blade under Kenobi's and circling them up and around, trapping them under his own weapon as he viciously slid the blade up toward his arms. With no time to block or dodge out of the way, Obi-Wan dropped to the ground, dragging his blades through the dust as he drew them toward's Maul's legs, only to have a second red lightsaber intercept them just as they were about to connect. He glared at Savage just as the hulking brute delivered a powerful kick to Kenobi's stomach, and the Sith deactivated his sabers as he rolled away.

Obi-Wan skidded to a stop and reignited his weapons, holding up the blades defensively as he surveyed the situation. His advantage was gone, wasted by Maul's quick reflexed and a keen intuition, and now the fight had become infinitely more complicated. The two brothers stood back to back, sabers raised at the Sith and the Jedi, the four Jedi fanning out to form a half circle around the Sith, both current and former. Obi-Wan reached his foot out behind him and felt the cliff face as he looked upon the Jedi. Adi Gallia. Even Piell. Quinlan Vos. Ahsoka Tano. Tano didn't count, of course, as she was very young and still a student, but she had been forged in the flames of war, and though she may have been the weak point in the wall of Jedi Masters, she wasn't to be underestimated, and furthermore, she meant something to Quinlan. Destroying her could ruin his plans, but the other two...

Kenobi whistled sharply, drawing the attention of all the eyes before him, and he smirked when he saw Maul growl in frustration and barely contained wrath. "Hey, Quin!" He could feel the tension in the Force grow tight and thick, but Vos relaxed, a cocky smirk sliding across his face. "This is going to become a _very_ messy free for all in a moment."

"I know!" The Kiffar beamed. "Doesn't look good for you, does it? Six on one is _very_ bad odds, even for you."

" _Master_!" Ahsoka hissed. "That's a Sith Lord, don't be friendly with it!"

"We need to divide them," Even Piell said, pointing his lightsaber at the Zabrak brothers. "Single them out, don't let them come together." The Jedi nodded, slowly beginning to advance on the brothers and Kenobi, Quinlan drawing close to his Padawan and stepping before her. Kenobi's eyes quickly raked over the combatants and the surrounding area, the pirates furiously engaged on the other side of the compound as blaster fire filled the air. If he could just get to Hondo, he could coordinate an attack with his sneaky, charismatic ally. Piell's plan was a good one, and it played to the Jedi's strength, but the same strategy was also useful for one who was seriously outnumbered.

With a smirk on his face, Obi-Wan clipped the darksaber back on his belt, raised his hand and sent lightning arching in a jagged blaze toward Maul, the angry Zabrak bringing his blade up just in time to block the violent energy as Kenobi jumped back toward the cliff face and pushed off the wall, landing between Savage and the Jedi. For just a moment, time seemed to slow as the Force gathered around the Sith Lord, Savage bringing his lightsaber up to strike down at him, and the Jedi beginning to rush forward, and Obi-Wan knew his course of action. With a deep, calming breath, Kenobi rushed toward the line of Jedi, targeting Quinlan's Padawan and slamming the weight of the Force against her, sending her careening into her Master, and the two Jedi fell together in a skidding heap that the other two Jedi managed to narrowly avoid. The weakness in their wall broken, Obi-Wan rushed past, with a furious Maul in hot pursuit.

It was chaos. With Maul chasing Kenobi, Savage chasing Maul, and the Jedi both chasing and engaging the brothers to keep them from escaping, the battle quickly became a mess of green and red and blue blurs, and Obi-Wan controlled it all. By staying on the outside edge of the fighting and by holding Maul's attention, the Sith Lord dictated the flow of battle, where they would fight, _who_ they would fight. Maul's rage was singular, his focus intense to the exclusion of all else, which was what Kenobi had been counting on. By staying outside the fight, he kept Jedi attention on the highly aggressive brothers, and when Maul had managed to beat his way past their defensive line, Obi-Wan ran again, stopping only when Savage had managed to catch the wrathful man, and the brothers were quickly surrounded again by the Jedi. He needed a way to isolate Maul from his brother and the Jedi, and a collection of scrap metal and broken ships nearby gave him the means to accomplish that. Kenobi was good. _Very_ good, but a duel against six others on a flat plane gave him no means to pull an advantage. No, he needed to manipulate this situation. The Jedi were bad enough, but two monsters driven mad with rage was another thing entirely.

He reached the junkyard just as Maul had pulled away again and sprinted toward him, rage etched on his tattooed face, and Kenobi jumped up onto one of the wrecked ships and drew his darksaber. Two Jedi turned on Savage as he tried to rush for Maul and quickly beat him back, the snarling, vicious Nightbrother forced on the defensive while the other two Jedi ran after Maul. Kenobi frowned. It was a change in strategy that he hadn't been expecting, as it would have been both smarter and safer if all four engaged Savage at once, but it seemed as though the Jedi were unwilling to let any of the Dark Siders escape. It was a nuisance, but not an impossible problem. The real threat was Maul, and the Jedi could swiftly be dealt with, if they proved to be a difficulty.

" _You_ ," Maul snarled, a cold, vicious tone to his voice that pooled with the Dark Side, and Kenobi shivered in delight as he felt the wrath of the other man. Such anger was fueling him as well.

"I see you have new legs," Kenobi drawled, his sabers twirling in his hands as the Nightbrother clambered on to the top of the ship. "I don't like them. Your other ones were better."

"Well your Jedi friend took them from me," the creature snarled, and Kenobi just smirked.

"No, I was talking about your _real_ legs." With a surge of anger that set the Dark Side roaring, Maul rushed at Kenobi, his lightsaber flying viciously through the air with brutal slashes that hit with such impact that the Sith Lord was nearly driven off balance. He was unprepared for such a ferocious attack, not realizing how close to the end of the ship he had been pushed until his foot slipped off one of the sloped sides. Digging the darksaber into the ship, the metal screeching with the burning cut, he used the weapon as a pivoting point to throw himself around to safety, kicking out at one of Maul's legs as the Zabrak's lightsaber cut through the hull, and before he could turn around, their positions had been reversed.

Fear spiked through Maul as he found himself precariously close to a long drop off the side of the dead freighter, and he used that fear to fuel him, his cybernetic feet kicking holes into the slope of the ship to give himself a much needed foothold as he defended himself against the sudden onslaught of the Sith Lord. His inability to move without sliding off the edge was severely impairing him, and he needed to somehow put some distance between himself and the furious Sith Lord. Teeth grit, Maul dug deep into the Dark Side and expended the energy at Kenobi in an attempt to push him back, but the Sith had sensed his intention and raised his own hand to mirror Maul's actions. The tremendous force of it was crushing, gravity seeming to bear down on them as the Dark Side thrashed and raged around them, two snarling, angry beasts that slashed and clawed at each other with the intent to kill. Their bodies shook, eyes narrowed in concentration as they harnessed all the power that was allowed them, and their hands nearly touched before the pressure had become too much and exploded outwards, sending both Maul and Kenobi flying back through the air.

With a hiss of fury, Kenobi twisted, righting himself and locking his focus on Maul as the man flew over the edge of the ship. He would not get away from him so easily. Reaching out through the Force, he grabbed hold of the falling Zabrak and pulled him up into the air, his focus broken as he landed on his feet on the ship once again. He looked up, reached once again for the former Sith, and swiftly pulled him down to the ship, the rusty disused craft groaning in protest as the durasteel buckled under the violent impact of Maul's body.

With a groan of pain, Maul swiftly rose to his feet and ignited his lightsaber, holding it out before him as the Sith Lord did the same. Both of them stopped when the flash of green lightsabers appeared as two Jedi jumped up on to the top of the ship, sabers raised and ready, and for a moment, nobody moved. This was about to be very bad for someone. Scooting closer to the young Togruta, Vos whispered, "Focus on Maul, do _not_ engage Kenobi. We can't afford for this to become a free for all like earlier, and if you and I are divided, we won't win."

"How can we focus on a single target when we have _two targets_ , Master."

"Like this." The Jedi stood up tall and grinned at the Sith Lord. "What's the plan, Kenobi?"

Obi-Wan grinned as a look of dread passed over Maul's face. The Zabrak would benefit from having Kenobi's attention divided, and it was beginning to look like that wasn't going to happen. "I don't know, Quin..." he drawled, slowly edging closer to the Zabrak, and Maul slowly retreated, only to find the Jedi circling around behind him. He was trapped. "I was thinking a foursome with that Nightbrother slut in the middle."

"Mm, sounds like a party."

Maul raised his saber and snarled, backing up so he could keep all three of his opponents in view. What was _with_ this Sith Lord?! Darth Lumis was allied with _Jedi_ , and not just one that had been tempted. There was Qui-Gon Jinn, and now there was this Jedi and his Padawan learner, and if Kenobi had three, he may have had more. He grit his teeth and stood his ground. Nothing had changed. The threat was still Kenobi. A Jedi Master and their Padawan was nothing that Maul hadn't faced before, and he had learned from his encounter with Kenobi so many years ago. The Padawan died _first_. Grief often gripped the Master for a moment and it left them unbalanced enough to end them. It had worked with several Jedi that he and Savage had faced in the past month. Now was no different.

Maul rushed at Kenobi, swinging viciously as the Sith slid into an easy defensive, circling around to lead the Zabrak toward the Jedi, but Maul wasn't falling for it. He stopped suddenly and backed up, giving Kenobi an opening to press an offensive, which he took as Vos joined the fight, despite his Padawan's objections. Maul held his own remarkably well, digging deep into the Dark Side and commanding the Force to do his bidding as it pushed his body to the upper limits of the physically possible. When he was overwhelmed, Maul would strike out against the Togruta, forcing the Jedi to divert his attention to save the girl and leaving Kenobi to fend for himself. It was working brilliantly, and the Jedi desire to save lives was getting in the way of his ability to properly work together with the Sith Lord.

It wasn't going well, and Ahsoka knew it. The fight was lasting far too long against a tireless opponent, and while Kenobi showed no signs of letting up, Quinlan's aggressive style was finally beginning to wear on him. She saw this fight for what it was, and it was one on one the entire time. Both Dark Siders were only focused on each other, and while Maul was clearly conscious of his multiple attackers, Kenobi saw only allies. This could be the only chance they had. Spinning around, her green sabers catching a powerful, sweeping strike from Maul's red blade, Ahsoka watched as Vos skidded in front of her to deal with the Zabrak, with Obi-Wan at his side, and Tano felt calm rush through her as she spun behind her Master and thrust her lightsaber at Kenobi.

He felt it in the Force too late. Kenobi whipped his blade around to block the green lightsaber, the red sparking against the green as it slid past, and he twisted his body when he saw the Jedi's weapon could not be stopped. The green saber bit him just to the side of his spine, the turn of his torso forcing the weapon straight through him and out his left side. The pain only lasted for a moment. After that, there was only rage. He twisted around and struck the Togruta across the face with the hilt of his lightsaber as he deactivated it, returning it to his belt as he quickly strode toward the scrambling girl with darksaber in hand. He could feel Quinlan's distress as he called for the girl, trying to get away from Maul, but the Zabrak's assault was too ferocious. Kenobi lifted his hand, and Ahsoka rose, twisting and squirming in the clutches of the Dark Side as Obi-Wan choked her, and with a snarl of anger, he threw her over the side of the ship.

Quinlan could hear himself scream as his Padawan rocketed over the ship, her body limp, and the distraction was enough for Maul to swiftly bring his saber around. The Masters _always_ faltered when the Padawan was killed. _Always_. The fatal strike was suddenly intercepted by a furious black blade, and Maul's eyes widened in fear as he looked at Kenobi and saw nothing but darkness. This wasn't anything like he had witnessed before. The pain had only served to enrage the Sith Lord, and Maul could feel the Dark Side pulled to Kenobi, commanded to serve him and obey, and it did so without question. Even the darkness that _he_ commanded was torn from him, and Maul frantically grasped at the Force, demanding that it heed him, but to no avail. His eyes narrowed in focus as Obi-Wan began his attack, faster and harder than before, but the wound had damaged him, and the Sith was favoring one side. Maul smirked. Despite the increase to the Sith's power, he could be beaten. The wound was severe, much more than it looked, and if he could draw out the fight and expend Kenobi's energy, he would succumb. Maul couldn't stop now.

With Maul engaged, Quinlan rushed to the side of the ship, reached out with the Force and grabbed his falling Padawan, lifting her gently to him, and nearly dropped her when his focus was diverted by the fight below. The pirates were close, much closer than they had been, and stray blaster fire was striking the side of the ruined ships, but what caught his eye was _Savage_. Even Piell was nowhere to be seen, and the beast was viciously beating down on Adi Gallia, the Jedi athletically dodging out of the way and jumping to avoid the wicked red blade. She skidded on the ground under the weapon and swiftly kicked at the Zabrak's knee with a force that should have sent the creature's leg snapping sideways, but the massive leg stood strong, and Savage simply looked _angry_. She snarled, bringing his weapon down toward her, and she spun out of the way and back to her feet, only to be blasted back by a powerful push of the Force, the wind knocked out of her.

Savage lowered his head and charged, and Quinlan felt the pain in the Force as the Zabrak's elongated cranial horns pierced through the Jedi. The Nightbrother wrenched his head to the side and threw Adi off, and the woman collapsed upon the ground, clutching her stomach where she had been gouged and shaking as blood pumped out of her. The red lightsaber descended on her quickly, impaling her through the chest, and the Jedi fell lifeless to the ground.

Quinlan held Ahsoka to himself tightly, sensing her pulse with life, feeling her squirm in his grasp as she overcame the momentary unconsciousness, and through it all, Quinlan Vos felt only rage. Were Ahsoka truly harmed, his wrath would have turned on Kenobi in a second, but this Nightbrother _scum_ had killed a Jedi, a woman that Quinlan knew well. And he would not let it pass. Laying Ahsoka down, he rose to his feet and ignited his saber, and with a howl of rage, he rushed at Maul. It was Savage that had killed her, but it didn't matter. Rage blinded him, and all he could see was the former Sith as he fought Kenobi. One friend had died today. He wouldn't allow another one to.

Maul felt him before he saw him, and before he could think, he ducked under a green blade that was swung at his head, and he found himself looking into furious brown eyes alight with the Dark Side. The Jedi had returned to the fight, but this was _no_ creature of compassion and restraint. This was darkness, raw and exposed emotion that burned with such intensity that Maul could feel the air burned out of his lungs. There were _two_ of them. He had a chance of victory over Kenobi if he was alone and severely injured, which he had been, but _now_ the Sith had aid in the form of a man nearly as dark as he was. Maul could not win alone. He needed Savage. Swinging his blade around and catching the two weapons as they swung for him, Maul brought the two blades up and quickly jumped out of the way. Before they could close the distance, Maul turned and jumped off the side of the ship, falling the distance and landing beside his brother.

Kenobi rushed to give chase, but Quinlan's green blade swung at him and he was forced to duck to avoid it, wincing in pain as his knee struck the ground, and still, Quinlan attacked. Dodging out of the way, Obi-Wan reached out through the Dark Side to feel the Force that pulsed through his friend, the strong, rushing stream slick with darkness, and he pulled at his mind, the Kiffar landing on the steel with a cry of frustration and pain as his lightsaber rolled away from him. As he started to rise, a strong hand wrapped in his hair and pulled back _hard_ , yanking his head back against Kenobi's bleeding torso, those golden eyes _furious_.

"You _will_ control your rage, Quinlan," the Sith snarled, his hand tightening as pain coursed through him. "You are unfocused, undisciplined, and _unbalanced_. Grab your anger, focus on it, feel every loss you have ever endured and let it _center you_." The Jedi shook as his anger increased, the fresh memory of Adi Gallia's death playing before his eyes, and as Kenobi said, he concentrated on it, felt his rage grow until it was burning almost out of control, and it gave him _focus_. Clarity like he had never had before, and-

His Padawan was sitting, clutching her chest and coughing. All rage fled him and he tore himself away from Obi-Wan's grasp and rushed to her side.

" _Kenobi_!" The Sith ran to the end of the ship to look down below and saw Hondo, blaster waving in the air. "This way, come on!" the pirate called, beaconing as he rushed off toward his fortress, which was holding up impressively under fire. He looked back toward Quinlan, only to find the Jedi and his Padawan gone, and he ran to the side of the ship when he heard lightsabers striking. Maul and Savage were fighting back Even Piell, the little Master leaping athletically through the air and raining strikes down on the Zabraks. A moment later and Quinlan and Ahsoka joined the fight, the two refreshed from their previous confrontation and working together as if they shared a single mind between them. Obi-Wan ignited his lightsaber with the intention of rejoining the fight, but stopped when he stepped forward and his leg nearly gave out on him from the pain that rushed through him. The injury was more severe than he had realized. On second thought, following Hondo didn't seem like such a bad idea.

Obi-Wan dropped down to the ground, grimacing in pain from the impact, and sucking in a sharp breath of air as the Dark Side flooded him, his pain lending him strength to run across the compound and through the blaster fire as the two armies fought, periodically deflecting stray shots away from him when necessary. He could hear Maul screaming to Savage over the noise of plasma being fired, could feel the Zabraks following him, only to be stopped by the Jedi. At the very least, Quinlan was buying him extra time to heal. Perhaps he would be lucky and be able to slay the beast, and not only would Kenobi be rid of the pests that were Maul and Savage, but Quinlan's fall to the Dark Side would be closer to completion.

Kenobi followed a small group of pirates into the fortress, the small door keeping a larger force from coming inside without being easily slaughtered. It was dark inside the small, cramped corridors, and as he went deeper, the metallic walls gave way to subterranean tunnels. Conditions like these could be used to his advantage when Maul arrived, and Maul _would_ arrive. He heard swift footsteps behind him and he turned to find a pirate, blaster raised toward him, and he reached out and grabbed him with the Force, the pirate dropping his weapon as he was pulled to Kenobi's waiting hand. Gold eyes blazed as Obi-Wan looked within the pirate, found the life within him, the breath of the Force that was in all that lived, and he grabbed hold and tore it from the pirate, the man screaming as his brown, leathery skin became pale and ashen. It was difficult to do, and Kenobi could feel the wound that ran through him pulse as blood ran down his leg, but the effort had been enough. Tossing the cold Weequay aside, he centered himself in the Force and set the energy that he had brutally torn from the creature to the task of healing the wound. He could feel warmth run through him as the process began. It wouldn't be immediate, but it would be fast enough to handle Maul.

He found Hondo deep within the underground caverns, ordering his men on the best placement of their cannons and weapons. At the very least, Hondo was a clever man, and he had just been betrayed. Kenobi knew the pirate well enough that he would find a way to turn this whole mess to his advantage. He was an ally worth keeping, if he managed to survive this, though Obi-Wan had no doubt that he would.

"Where are the rest of your men?" Kenobi asked as he approached, leaning against a wall and sliding down it, breathing deeply as he finally relaxed. The pain was severe, but he could use this. Hondo looked at the Sith, a frown on his face when he saw blood smearing the walls.

"They are setting up an ambush..." he said quietly, pointing his blaster at the wall. "Are you alright?" The Sith nodded, but said nothing. "Because, if you are _dying_ , this whole thing seems like a bad deal to me. These crazies are too powerful, even for _you_."

Kenobi rolled his eyes and pulled aside his robes. In his haste to leave, he had left his armor back on Mandalore. He'd hear about this from Satine when he returned. Hondo scoffed and looked away when he saw the charred and gaping hole, blood running freely from the would, but looked back quickly, knelt beside the Sith, and leaned in closer. It wasn't possible, but the wound was _healing_ , closing up and clearing right before his eyes. Hondo shook his head in disbelief. "Want to rethink that last statement?"

"This is the last time I do business with you crazy wizard types."

"Really. I'd be happy to negotiate that with you after we've won. I have a bottle of Mandalorian Narcolethe on my ship." Hondo grasped the Sith Lord's hand and shook it vigorously.

"Done, my friend." The pirate stood and looked down the tunnels. "I have a plan, and I could use your help to make it work." Kenobi gestured for the pirate to continue. "I can bring my men back to me, but not with those crazies around."

"You would _take them back_?" Obi-Wan asked in disbelief, and Hondo clicked his tongue and shook his head as if the very idea of doing anything else was incredibly foolish.

"Killing my men is bad for business!" he cried, throwing his arms dramatically in the air. "Besides, cleaning up all those bodies will take _weeks_. I find it more profitable to bring my men back to me, and then, not only will I have my crew back, but your crazies will have no army." Hondo grinned when the Sith's eyes glowed brighter. "I'd like to see them fight out of here through all my men _and_ you."

"I knew I liked the way you think," Kenobi groaned as he pushed himself to his feet, his hand running over the spot where the lightsaber had pierced him and found the skin pale and smooth. It was still healing, yes, but it was no longer serious. He strode down the hallway and looked both ways down the corridor it intersected with. "Where's your ambush?" Hondo pointed down to the right, and the Sith nodded. "When they come down here, I'll lead Maul and Savage away, and you blast the passageway closed so you can have a chat with your men." Hondo grinned, but the smile dropped from his face when he heard voices down the tunnel they had come in, followed by the hissing of lightsabers as they ignited.

"Go, run!" Hondo shouted to his men, and the pirates ran after their leader when the opposing army rounded the corner, the two Nightbrothers at its head. Kenobi locked eyes with Maul, and turned and ran the opposite way from Hondo.

He could hear Maul's enraged shouting, telling them to not allow anyone to escape, and a moment later, Kenobi could hear the cybernetic clang and the heavy steps of Maul and Savage following him down his end of the tunnel, the sound of crashing as the tunnel collapsed echoing behind them. Kenobi skidded around a corner, leaping over debris as he ran, and he looked behind him, saw that Maul and Savage hadn't caught up to him yet, and quietly, Obi-Wan gave himself to the Force and cloaked himself in the dark shadows of the passageway. He sat silently in the darkest corner he could find, his breathing so slow and even that his chest hardly seemed to move. His concealment wasn't yet perfect, but in the dark, it was very close to it. Dooku could always find him, but Dooku had known what to look for. Maul probably wouldn't be able to find him, and Kenobi needed time. While externally recovered, his impalement still needed time to heal right, and the mad dash through the tunnels had disrupted the process.

The brothers rushed around the corner, Savage unable to stop himself fast enough and hit the wall, but the impact didn't slow him down. They kept running when they didn't see Kenobi, but Maul quickly slowed to a walk and peered down the long passageway. Kenobi was nowhere in sight, and they had not been that far behind him. What's more, the Sith Lord had been injured, and they had been gaining on him. He couldn't have gone far.

"Kenobi!" Maul growled, his voice echoing down the hall. "Surrender to us!" There was no answer, no pull in the Force, and Maul closed his eyes and tried to feel for the infinite darkness that rested inside the Sith, but found nothing at all. He frowned. "You are weak, and you are injured. You cannot escape us! Come out and die like a true Sith!" Still, nothing. Maul snarled viciously and struck the wall with his lightsaber, leaving a deep, burning gash in the compacted dirt. "What do you think your _Master_ will think of you hiding like some wounded animal?" And still there was no response at all.

"Brother, he's not here," Savage growled. "We should retrace our steps, see if he could have turned somewhere else..."

"No..." Maul said softly, closing his eyes. "I feel... _something_. He is close, I can feel it..."

They were too far away to reach. Too far away for his lightsaber to strike them down. He shifted, preparing to jump out of the shadows and attack, but the Dark Side stilled him, commanded him to have patience, and Obi-Wan heeded the Force and watched. Savage laid his hand on his brother's shoulder, and Maul viciously slapped it away.

"We are _close_ , _apprentice_ ," Maul snarled, and Savage backed up, head bowed. "He is here, I know it! You and I are the true Lords of the Sith, we cannot allow this pretender to escape! Not now, when my revenge is so very close at hand."

Kenobi grinned as Maul began to pace the tunnel, his lightsaber striking out at the walls and using the Force to pick up stones and hurl them away, only to howl in anger when it turned up nothing. Maul had become _ambitious_. Sidious would _love_ to hear about this. Savage turned to follow Maul, and Kenobi felt his opportunity. Igniting his lightsaber, he swung the blade up at the Nightbrother from out of the shadows, and the hulking creature turned around to defend himself just as Kenobi's blade cut through his arm just below the shoulder, and Savage Opress fell screaming to the ground, green mist flowing from the stump and the severed arm like blood. Obi-Wan raised his blade to bring it down on the prone beast, only to have the blade collide with Maul's, the brother rushing in to defend his fallen family.

There was rage in Maul, a vicious scowl on his face as he gripped his weapon in both hands and clashed with Kenobi, the red blades leaving burning scars along the ground and the walls of the tight passageway. Obi-Wan took the darksaber in hand, and with two blades, he became far more dangerous against his single opponent, a whirlwind of humming blades and ribbons of light as he dodged underneath the Zabrak's blade, and slowly, Maul's rage and triumph at beating a wounded opponent began to fade into cold, raw fear. Somehow, Kenobi wasn't injured at all, and without his brother to help, Maul knew he couldn't win. Not today.

Maul jumped back as Kenobi vaulted off the walls and landed with an arching slash, and with some distance between them, Maul reached out and grabbed the walls of the tunnel, focusing his rage and pulling, and with a loud roar, the tunnel collapsed, putting a wall of heavy stone between himself and the Sith Lord. He deactivated his saber and rushed to his brother's side and helped him to his feet. "Come..." Maul said softly. "This plan has failed. We will have another opportunity, but not today." Savage didn't say anything as he followed Maul out of the tunnels, making their way back the way they came, and squinting as they exited the fortress, their eyes adjusting to the harsh sun. Their pirate army was waiting for them, and with a growl of irritation, Maul quickly barked, "Return to the ships, we are leaving."

"My men aren't going _anywhere_ with you, " haughty voice said, and Maul cringed when a pirate in a red overcoat approached, looking as if he hadn't a care in the world. _Hondo_. "Look at them!" he cried, addressing his men and pointing his blaster at the brothers. "How powerful can these fools be? They are running away from _Kenobi_!" The men began to laugh, and Maul felt himself burn with rage.

" _Filth_. You will pay for your insolence!" Maul snarled, but Hondo simply began to laugh.

" _Insolence_!? We are pirates! We don't even know what that means!" The pirate leader grinned as he looked past the two brothers. "Open fire!"

When Maul heard the sound of lightsabers igniting behind them, he took his brother by his remaining hand and ran.

It was a long way to their ship, and it was made even longer by the blaster bolts that swarmed around them like blood-thirsty insects, and despite the fear driving them ever faster, the thrumming of lightsabers grew louder with every second. They ran through a field cluttered with debris and scrap metal, throwing pieces at the pirates with the Force when they could, but there were far too many of them to take a stand and fight, not to mention that Savage couldn't, and the Sith Lord was quickly gaining on them. When they past through the scrap yard, it was a clear shot to their boxy freighter, and just when they began the sprint across the open field, Maul and Savage skidded to a halt, rapidly changing directions and standing toward the oncoming pirate army.

The Jedi, their green blades ignited, stood in their way.

Maul and Savage banked right, running as fast as they could to try and get around the Jedi, but the effort was only proving to trap them. With the cliff face before them, the pirates back the way they came from, the Jedi blocking their path to the freighter, and Kenobi running swiftly behind them, there seemed to be no way out. Gritting his teeth and rushing headlong at the cliff face, the brothers jumped as high as they could, reaching for the ledge, but falling far short of it. Quickly angling themselves toward the wall, they pressed off with their legs, and Maul watched as the Jedi fanned out, weapons raised, and Kenobi changed directions, now heading right toward the Jedi where he predicted Maul would land.

Quinlan commanded Ahsoka and Even Piell to back up, and the three Jedi rushed back, stopping with their blades raised as Kenobi met the Nightbrothers, his two blades moving so fast that they could barely see them. Maul fought in a frantic retreat as he tried to get away from the ferocious Sith, but to no avail. Between protecting his brother, avoiding the Sith's blade, and trying to make it around the Jedi and the blaster fire, Maul was clearly overwhelmed.

"Remember," Vos said, gripping his saber tighter as the three Dark Siders approached, "do _not_ engage Obi-Wan. We need to kill Maul and Savage, and that becomes _far_ more difficult if we need to worry about him as well."

Master Piell growled. "Darth Lumis is the Sith Lord here, _he's_ the true threat. This may be our only chance to get him. His focus is divided, we can't let this opportunity go to waste."

Even Piell was off before Quinlan could respond, and a moment later, the little Lannik master was leaping above the Sith brothers, his green blade crashing down on top of Kenobi's, and with a frustrated growl, he slipped past the Master and continued his pursuit.

"Damn it, Even, _stop_!" Quinlan shouted, rushing forward to meet the Sith brothers, but they shot past him, the sand slipping underneath Quinlan's feet as he swiftly turned to lash out with his lightsaber and missed the Nightbrothers completely. His footing restored, he continued to give chase, coming to run next to a dangerously focused Obi-Wan. The Sith Lord's eyes never left Maul's retreating figure, and Quinlan looked sharply to his side when he saw a flash of green rush past and intersect their path, and Ahsoka jumped, her lithe body twisting in the air as she angled herself and threw her lightsaber, the green blade thrumming through the air and severing one of Maul's legs.

The Zabrak went down with a cry of pain, but only for a moment before Savage quickly picked him up and ran, Maul batting away blaster fire from the pirates as they fired upon them. Quinlan heard Kenobi emit a strangled, pleasured sound as the Nightbrothers slowed, and he ran faster, gaining on the two until Piell jumped over him, striking down at the Sith with his green lightsaber, and landed between him and his target. Kenobi had enough, and Quinlan could feel the Dark Side roar to vicious, angry life as it crashed against him, his teeth grit under the force of it all, and he found himself being pushed back. Every time Kenobi thought he was rid of the little Master, Piell would return, leaping before him and swiftly engaging him, blades clashing in a shower of sparks as the Jedi engaged the Sith, and Kenobi did everything in his power to get away from the Lannik. It wasn't enough. Every strike and slash was parried, every movement blocked, and with Obi-Wan's laser focus on Maul, Even Piell had the benefit of not being the focus of the Sith's growing rage.

They were almost there. Once they reached the ship, he and Savage would be _gone_ , away from this planet, away from the _sector_ where they could plan their next move. One of the Jedi, the tall human, and the Padawan turned from Kenobi and began sprinting together toward Maul, and he felt panic grip him as they rapidly gained. Looking around for something, _anything_ he could use, his eyes settled high on the Jedi ships on the cliff, and reaching through the Force, fueled by his pain and his endless fury, he grabbed the ship and pulled it off the cliff, sending the massive thing to land right in the Jedi's path. Quinlan grabbed Ahsoka to stop her, and the two sprinted to round the ship, and by the time they had gotten back on course, the massive thrusters were firing, the boarding ramp sealed, and the freighter was lifting into the air. With nothing left to do, the two Jedi turned and ran back to help the other Jedi.

Kenobi watched this in horror, stopping his fight with the Jedi long enough to watch the ship take off. This _couldn't_ happen, not again. With a snarl of rage, Obi-Wan rushed toward the leaving vessel, only to have Piell jump in front of him, saber raised, and the entire wrath of the Dark Side clutched Kenobi tightly in its embrace. All his strikes were stronger, faster, _harder_ , and the Jedi Master quickly began to buckle under the assault, Even leapt to get behind Kenobi, striking down at the Sith and his green blade dug into the Sith's shoulder. Even watched as those golden eyes snapped to him, filled not with pain or rage, but with grim delight, and the Jedi realized too late that the Sith had allowed himself to be struck. The darksaber swung up above Kenobi's head, the arm clutching the lightsaber in his shoulder neatly severed, and as Even Piell fell to the ground, the red lightsaber passed through him, and the Master his the ground in two pieces.

Vos couldn't hear himself scream as he and Ahsoka sprinted toward Kenobi as he struck down the other Master. _Two_ members of the Council lay dead on Florrum that day. They would be avenged. The wave of pirates still surged forward, shooting at the ship as it took off, and Kenobi barked at them to shoot the ship out of the sky, but he managed to turn around just as Quinlan struck at him, Ahsoka sliding past the Sith Lord to flank him. Seeing their benefactor attacked, the pirates turned their weapons on the Jedi, firing in short, quick volleys that left Ahsoka and Quinlan unable to focus on the task of bringing Kenobi down. It was far too much, even for trained, battle-hardened Jedi, and moment's later, Quinlan heard his Padawan cry out in pain as she was shot through the shoulder. Abandoning his fight against Obi-Wan, he rushed to her, calling her weapon to his hand and using both blades to defend her from the continuing fire.

An explosion rocked the area, and Quinlan swiftly turned to see that Maul's ship had been struck on its left rear engines, and the freighter began to crash far out into the Florrum hills. With a cheer, the pirates gathered around their leader, forgetting about Quinlan as they hopped on speeders to bring themselves to the site of the wreckage, no doubt to plunder the ship of whatever it was that lay inside it. Pain shot through the Jedi, and he dropped to his knees, grabbing his head and watching Kenobi slowly advance upon him. With a wave of his hand, the Jedi went flying to the side, rolling in the sand as he struggled to bring himself up, his arms shaking through the effort and the exhaustion. He pushed himself to his knees, his dark eyes fixed on Ahsoka as she stirred, and with his lightsaber in hand, he started to rise, but a strong foot kicked his knee out from behind him, and Vos fell back to his knees as strong, firm hands wrapped around his wrists and drew him against the powerful body behind him.

"What _have_ you been up to, Quinlan Vos..." Kenobi drawled in his ear, and Quinlan felt a shiver course through him. "You so quickly reach for anger now..." The Jedi groaned, trying to wriggle away as he saw a pirate saunter toward Ahsoka, kick her prone body and laugh, but Kenobi wouldn't allow him to move. "I sense it in you," he whispered, and Quinlan growled in fury. Not  _it, her. Ventress._

"Yes, _we all know_ I am filled with the Dark Side, Obi-Wan!"

"Not yet," he said softly, looking at the pirate, and slowly, the man obeyed the wordless pull of the Force, dropped his weapon, and shuffled before the two, dropping to his knees before them, his eyes distant and blank as his entire being relaxed. "This one probably didn't shoot your Padawan, but he's cruel enough," Kenobi whispered in his ear, bringing Quinlan's arm up and placing the deactivated saber at the Weequay's neck. The weapon trembled in Quinlan's hand, and he thought he'd drop if for a moment. Kenobi smiled. "Kill him."

"...h-he's unarmed _._ "

"Yes."

"And you said he-"

"He's a pirate. He _kicked_ your lovely Ahsoka." Quinlan felt his hand tighten around his weapon, but he shook his head.

"I-I can't, this is-"

" _Murder_ ," Kenobi whispered, forcing Quinlan to press the saber against the pirate's neck even harder, and Vos shivered as darkness coursed through him. This is what he needed to do. This pirate was _just_ a criminal, and a cruel one at that. He had _kicked_ Ahsoka, a little girl while she was down and injured. Surely, such cruelty couldn't be allowed to go unpunished. "Do it, Quin..." Obi-Wan said, soft and smooth, and the Jedi could feel the darkness surging and pulsing within him and raging to be set free. With a small, strangled whimper, Quinlan's thumb flicked the lightsaber's ignition, the green blade extending through the pirate's neck with a hiss, and he fell lifeless to the ground.

The Dark Side was... _pleasure_. Power and freedom all wrapped into one neat package, and Quinlan Vos had taken it and greedily ripped into it, savoring the feeling of life leaving that cruel creature and the surge of strength he had drawn from it. He looked behind him to look at Kenobi, only to find the man gone, his firm touch on his wrists a memory, and in the throes of the Dark Side, he couldn't see his Padawan looking at him.

* * *

The _Umbra_ left Florrum quietly, the stealth drive activated as he sped away from the planet and contacted his Master. Sidious answered immediately, a deep frown on his face when he saw the tattered, bloody state his apprentice was in. Before he could say anything, Kenobi snarled " _Jedi_."

Sidious drew up in understanding. "So the Jedi have found Maul as well. Is he dead?"

"We blew up his ship." Obi-Wan growled in anger, his hand balling into a fast. "But no, he's not dead. He's escaped, I can _feel_ it. And if the Jedi weren't there, he would be _dead_." He slammed his hand on the central console. "Find a way to keep the Jedi from hunting Maul."

Sidious frowned, and Obi-Wan could feel the Sith Master in his mind, feeling around and making him kneel, pain ripping through him and his muscles clenching against it threatening to tear the freshly healed skin on his back and torso. " _You_ do not command me, Lumis," Sidious said coldly, and Kenobi shook, bowing his head.

"Yes, Master...I apologize."

"This would not be a problem if you _killed_ the Jedi."

"I did. Adi Gallia and Even Piell are dead." Kenobi released a shuddering breath as the pain and the tight grasp on him was released, a slight smile on Sidious' lips his only sign of approval. "Maul and Savage fancy themselves Sith, Master."

Sidious scoffed. "We shall see about that." He steepled his fingers and regarded his student, and slowly nodded. "I will do as you ask this time, Lumis. I feel like the Jedi can be led away from pursuit of Maul and his..." Sidious scowled. " _Apprentice_."

"It will make them easier to kill without distractions, Master."

Sidious nodded. "It will. And without the Jedi, _I_ can get involved. Nobody threatens my Empire. _Nobody."_


	76. The Jedi Temple Bombing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiiiii kiiiiids...Quick note. This was REALLY tough to write. I love the original idea of these events in the Clone Wars, and adapting it to this was very difficult. Hopefully I was successful, and I'm certain you guys will tell me if it wasn't. I went back and forth a lot on whether or not to divide this into two parts, but I eventually settled on (I think) just giving you one big monster of a chapter. I think dividing it up would break the flow a bit. Anyway, enjoy. There may or may not be a chapter tomorrow, depending on how my brain organizes itself.

Maul used a long steel beam to assist his furious pacing back and forth across the length of the long hull of the escape ship. They had barely escaped Florrum, and now, they were stranded, the ship out of fuel for a full day, and the power dead as of a few hours ago. It was getting cold, their breath frosty in the air, and it wouldn't be long before their supplies ran out as well. Maul still was mad with revenge, and, gripping the stub of his arm, Savage couldn't help but feel that this was all a very bad idea.

He had thought it a bad idea from the beginning, from the moment that he had learned that Obi-Wan Kenobi, the man that maimed his brother, was the Sith Lord Darth Lumis. He had said as much to his brother, but Maul hadn't listened. Maul never listened, not to him, not since he had declared themselves Sith and called him apprentice. Savage had resisted the idea, but Maul was far stronger than he was, and that was all that had mattered. After all, why should they be equals when Maul could best him so quickly? Why should they be mere brothers when they could be far more? However, how could they call themselves Sith when twice, they had faced a _real_ Sith, and had twice been sent running?

Lumis was far stronger than they were, and he had _always_ been. Even when Maul _was_ apprenticed to Sidious, the then Obi-Wan Kenobi had found the power within himself to destroy Maul, even though the man was still a student, and a Jedi, no less. Yes, it was true that he had grabbed the Dark Side to wield it against the Sith, but that should have been no excuse for a Sith, one born and raised in darkness, to fall before a Jedi _Padawan_ , one who had no prior training in controlling the dangerous and fickle Dark Side. By Maul's logic, they should be kneeling before Lumis and pledging themselves in service to him, not fighting a futile battle to destroy him, but Maul had destroyed that option in his blind rage. It was over for them now, and there was no going back. They were being hunted, and there would be no stopping this Sith Lord.

"Brother..." Savage said quietly, his hand gripping the stub of his arm. He was lightheaded, and the wound was severe, and they had been unable to treat it with anything beyond simple bacta patches from the emergency first aid in the escape ship. "Brother, we can't keep doing this..."

"Give it time and we will have him, Savage," Maul said firmly, his voice betraying none of the anger he felt. "Our plan _will_ work, we-"

"But it _hasn't_ worked. Lord Lumis has almost killed us both _twice_. And we don't _have_ time. If we're very lucky, we'll last a few more days before we freeze to death."

Maul's face contorted with silent rage before relaxing, his eyes closed as he tossed the pole aside and hobbled to sit next to Savage on the ground. "He _is_ formidable..." he whispered. "I hadn't expected him to be so strong."

"We cannot beat him."

"You may be right," Maul sighed, leaning his head against the wall. "But we may not need to beat him to win." Savage groaned loudly. Revenge burned in Maul, brighter than anything. He was driven by a singular hatred of Kenobi, a hatred so powerful it allowed him to survive fatal wounds, and he would not let go of it. "I swore to make Kenobi suffer," Maul growled, clenching his fist tightly. "And I will. I don't need to kill him to make him suffer. I don't need to _beat_ him to make him suffer. I just need to know _how_ to do it..."

"We are getting involved with forces far beyond us," Savage said softly. "Please, let's just forget this. We can stay hidden from the Sith and the Jedi and-"

"I will _not_ be denied my revenge!" Maul snapped, his voice low and dangerous with anger. "Our plan _will_ work. We may have been set back at Florrum, but our plan will continue. The criminal underworld has thrived with the absence of the Jedi. They are a formidable force that is being _wasted_ with petty infighting. They are divided now, but if given common purpose, even these wretches can be made strong."

Savage groaned. "Not strong enough. Lord Lumis serves the Sith and the Separatists. Their army is far bigger than anything we can raise."

"We will take care to avoid them," Maul said quietly, grasping his arms against the cold and shivering. Savage was becoming frustrated, the pain in his arm giving him far less patience than he would normally have.

"We can't _avoid them_ , Maul! They go anywhere they wish, and where they can't go, the Republic can!"

"The Republic and the Separatists don't own the entire galaxy." Maul ran his hand down the cold metal of his leg, the knee ending in a melted point where the Jedi had severed it. "I will admit that our first stand against Kenobi was poorly planned, but this second time, it was chance that he found us. It was poor luck that he happened to be allied with these pirates. We will not be so careless the next time."

"If the pirates aren't his only criminal ally-"

" _If_ ," Maul snarled in disdain. "We will not let our revenge be determined by ifs! We have learned from this experience. We were far too bold, and we attracted attention far too soon. We will proceed with greater caution going forward. To hunt our enemy, we must _know_ him." Maul took a deep breath and felt calm resolve grip him, his cold fury giving him focus and clarity. It would take time, yes, but he would be patient. "What do you know of Darth Lumis, brother?"

Savage shook his head. "Not much..."

"Wrong. We know _so_ much. We know where he draws his power from. We know the manner in which he uses the Dark Side. We know that pain makes him stronger, we know he has the ability to heal himself, and more importantly, he can conceal himself in the Force, not just his presence, but his _body_. This Sith we deal with is uniquely powerful, but his powers are not brash or bold. He is _subversive._ "

"Just how are we supposed to stand against that?"

"The Sith have many enemies," Maul said softly. "And men like Kenobi have more than most. If we look carefully and keep to the shadows, I'm certain we shall find his enemies, and we will rally them to us."

"And what then?" Savage growled, watching as frost began to cover Maul's cybernetics. It was _frightfully_ cold. He may have been optimistic when he had estimated that they could live a few days more. It was beginning to look more like hours. "We have seen what he can do. We cannot defeat him, and if we amass too much power, he will certainly destroy us."

"The first time, we met because we had asked him to meet us. Last time, he hunted us down, and now it's time for us to become the hunter, Savage. We will attack Kenobi where it hurts him the most, without compromise and without mercy. Even a Sith Lord can be made weak, my brother."

"If we do this, he will kill us. He isn't some Jedi made weak by loss."

"He may try. His suffering will give us strength as well. Remember, Savage. We are Sith. We are made strong by the pain and suffering of others, and when we come for Kenobi, it will be with a united army of the criminal underworld. These organizations deal in information. They will give us the tools we need to find his weak points and drive the knife in."

Savage shivered. "Provided we survive."

Maul smiled softly and closed his eyes. "We will, Savage," he whispered, their ship creaking and groaning around them as the durasteel walls banged loudly as magnetized clamps fixed around their escape vessel. The back of the ship began to spark as a long, thin laser tool cut a hole into the sealed door, and seven heavily armed men stepped inside, weapons drawn and their chest plates emblazoned with the symbol of the Black Sun. "We _always_ do."

* * *

"I'm telling you, I _know_ what I saw!" Ahsoka said forcefully, pacing back and forth across the room while Anakin looked calmly at her. She was frantic and afraid and so uncertain, and with her emotional state teetering dangerously close to darkness, Skywalker was glad that she came to him.

"I believe you, Ahsoka, relax," he said calmly, extending his hand to ease her, and it worked. Her body trembling, the Togruta sat before him, and Anakin took her hand in his. "I need you to calm yourself."

" _How can I be calm_!" she cried, wrenching her hand from his. "I watched my Master _murder someone_!" she hissed, and Anakin swiftly reached out and pressed a finger to her lips.

"Hush, not so loud..." Skywalker whispered. "The walls don't keep sound out nearly as well as you think, and if this reaches someone else's ears, it's going to pass into rumor and it will _never_ be believed."

Ahsoka scoffed. "It won't be believed anyway, the Council will _never_ -"

"You're right, they won't," Anakin said, laying his hands on her shoulders, and the Togruta looked away sadly. "You know they can't sense the Dark Side, not when it matters. None of us can."

" _I_ can! I sensed it in Master Quinlan, I have for a long time!"

"I know, Ahsoka..." Anakin said tiredly, running a hand through his hair. It was something that had bothered Anakin for a long time. The Dark Side was violent, oppressive, cold and dangerous, and when it was being used, every time they had faced Dooku or Kenobi in the field, they could sense the raw power of darkness they harnessed, even if they couldn't actually sense Kenobi himself. It was extremely distinctive and very, _very_ easy to detect in ones actions. But they _couldn't_ sense it in other Jedi, and if there was a Sith Lord in the Senate, and Anakin _knew_ there was, than they couldn't sense him either. Jedi were supposed to be bastions against the dark, so why couldn't they sense it when it mattered most?

Anakin supposed that a great deal of it had to do with knowing where to look, and the Jedi weren't naturally a suspicious bunch, willing instead to trust and be deceived rather than not being able to bring themselves to trust at all. But now, between the horrors of war and the irreparable way that Kenobi had shaken the foundations of the Jedi, many were beginning to see darkness at every turn, in every shadow, in every action. The suspicion was shaking the Jedi's faith in each other, and worse than that, it was obscuring _real_ darkness when it existed. Anakin supposed that was why this Darth Sidious had chosen to hide within the Senate. Corruption and greed ran rampant in the Republic's ruling body, and with the frenzy of war driving their actions, the Senate had become mired in the Dark Side.

The problem _now_ , however, was Quinlan Vos. Skywalker had no doubt that Ahsoka was telling the truth. The Togruta was honest to a fault, even when it didn't serve her, but she had also picked up her Master's disregard for the Code, making for yet another unconventional Jedi in the ranks. She followed it better than the carefree Vos, but there were few who were as wild as the Kiffar, and while these Jedi were considered difficult by the Council, they also were proving to be the most effective in the battle against the Separatists. _I break the rules not because it suits me, but because sometimes during a mission, the rules can get in the way_. His Master Qui-Gon had said this to him once, and when he was young, he didn't understand, but being in war had taught Anakin the truth of it, and living by this had made him a success. He was never as brutally effective as his second in command, Tarkin, but Anakin was willing to do what he must to achieve victory.

Quinlan had been in the same boat long before Anakin had even joined the Jedi, and he had always walked in the shadows of the Force, not quite in darkness, but certainly to the beat of his own drum, all traits that he had passed to his aggressive Padawan. Ahsoka was a talent, loyal and brave, but also reckless and stubborn, not unlike Anakin himself, which accounted not only for their personality clashes, but also for their deep understanding of each other. Which is why the Togruta was here instead of reporting to the Council. They would figure this out _together._

"Look," Anakin said, rising to his feet and helping the girl up, "your Master has always been a bit dark."

" _Not like this_!"

"Alright, not like this," he said, rolling his eyes, "but the things he's done in his career as a Jedi have made him look darker than most. He's certainly on the edge of comfort, as far as the Council is concerned, but nobody believes he's a fall risk."

"He murdered a man, Anakin," she said softly, her voice wavering with emotion. "I saw it, I watched it happen. Obi-Wan helped him do it, and you know how close they were! Even Master Qui-Gon agrees that Kenobi wants my Master to fall, and now he's making it happen."

Anakin hissed as he pulled on his cloak. "That complicates things. Do you think Kenobi forced him to do it? He's been known to influence people to do things they wouldn't. You know, he's done it to you too."

"I-I suppose..." She violently shook her head. "No, I felt the Dark Side in my Master. Maybe Obi-Wan _helped_ him, but Master Quinlan didn't fight it."

Anakin thought about what she had said for a moment than nodded. "I'll talk to Master Yoda the next time I see him for training, but I want _you_ to keep an open mind. Maybe things aren't what they seem with your Master, and _you_ aren't exactly the cleanest Jedi, Snips." He chuckled when she crossed her arms and glared at him. "After all, stabbing someone in the back isn't exactly the Jedi Way, now is it?"

"Anakin, that _Sith_ has been the cause of almost all of our problems!" the Togruta cried. "Killing him should be a priority, and when I saw the opportunity, I took it!"

"Woah, easy there, Snips!" Anakin said, putting a hand on her head and patting her affectionately. "I agree with you. Obi-Wan Kenobi is a serious threat that needs to be handled immediately. Which _happens_ to be my current mission." He hit the button on his door and it slid open, and both Jedi walked out of the room. "Come with me to the hangar. I'm going to be gone for a while and I don't know when I'll be back next, and I'm going to _miss_ you, Snips!"

"Ha, ha, Skyguy..." Ahsoka droned, but she followed Anakin anyway. It was a relief to know that the Council was finally sending someone to confront Obi-Wan, and an even greater relief that it was the exceedingly powerful Anakin Skywalker that they were sending. There had been rumors that Anakin had been training in secret with Yoda, though for what, she did not know. What she _did_ know was that Skywalker was said to be prodigious in his command of the Force, and with all the victories he had tucked under his belt, she believed it. Skywalker rarely lost a fight, and with Qui-Gon's somewhat loose interpretation of the Code instilled in him, he actually may have stood a chance at besting Kenobi.

"The Chancellor has forbidden us to continue our hunt for Maul," Anakin said quietly to his pensive friend, and the girl bristled. "He says we can't continue wasting Republic resources on what ultimately amounts to a personal matter."

"I don't know what to think of that..." she sighed. "Maul is a threat, but..." Ahsoka cast her eyes down to the ground as they walked. "Obi-Wan would have killed him if we didn't keep getting in the way. If Master Piell-"

"He was right. Obi-Wan is the greater threat. But he went about it wrong." Anakin groaned and rubbed his temple. He was getting a headache just thinking about it. "Adi Gallia's death was tragic, but Master Piell's was just senseless and brutal. It could have been avoided if they had taken a more united, tactical approach." He scoffed. "It could have _all_ been avoided if you focused all your efforts on Kenobi first. Three Jedi Masters and two former Sith would have been too much for even him. He isn't invincible."

"Or we all would have been dead," Ahsoka said softly.

"...maybe." It was open season on the High Council, it seemed, and the Order was struggling to fill the seats of those they lost. In one day, two of their rank had been slain, and finding wise Masters to fill those seats was difficult when it seemed as though simply sitting on the Council was a death warrant. The Order was falling apart, and to Anakin, the solution was simple. Identify the cause of the trouble and eliminate it. Dooku may have been leading the war, but Kenobi was pulling the Jedi apart, which made him the Republic's greatest threat. It was this which led Yoda to sanction Skywalker's mission to seek out and meet the threat of Darth Lumis. In light of what had happened on Florrum, it was an easy thing for the Council to accept.

"If we can't hunt Maul," Ahsoka began, shuffling her feet and slowing down as they came closer to the hangar, "than isn't he just going to emerge as a bigger threat later?"

"He will to someone," Anakin mumbled. "As of now, it seems like Maul is Kenobi's biggest enemy. Give it time and he might prove himself to be an asset."

"Give it time and he'll have an army of his own," Ahsoka growled. "He was trying to form an army of pirates on Florrum. He'll try again, I'm sure of it, but it's going to be worse. Without the Jedi to keep crime in check-"

"I know. But the Chancellor says that if Maul wants to play with the galaxy's garbage, we should just let him. The Separatists are the real threat."

"So we're just supposed to let him have a crime empire?!" Ahsoka asked, stunned. "That's insane! That's what Kenobi did with Mandalore, isn't it? And it's made him _very_ difficult to touch!"

"...it's not dissimilar, you're right." Anakin stopped outside of the doors to the hangar and ran a hand over his face. "There's nothing we can do about it anyway. Chancellor Palpatine is right. As long as we're fighting this war, we don't have the resources to spare in fighting the crime syndicates. It just reenforces the need to end the war quickly." He laid a hand on the girl's shoulder and smiled reassuringly at her. "Don't worry, Snips. We'll sort out this mess with your Master. Keep an eye out, and keep me posted." When the girl said nothing, he leaned down to her eye level. "Hey. There are going to be Jedi who disappoint us, but as long as there are good ones, as long as there are those who are doing what's right, it makes it all worthwhile."

Finally, Ahsoka nodded and grinned at her friend, and reached out to touch the button to open the hangar door. No sooner had she touched it, Anakin and Ahsoka were flung back by a powerful blast of heat, and they struck the wall, a deafening sound in their ears and searing light forcing them to shut their eyes tightly as they were pelted with shards of rock and metal that cut and bruised. Anakin threw himself over the Togruta as soon as he was able, shielding her from the blast. When they felt it was over, both Jedi jumped to their feet and ran into the hangar, the entire bay blackened from scoring of intense heat, and ships lay in pieces, flames consuming everything that could be burned. All around them were the screams of the injured and dying, and the ground was scattered with the dead, some barely recognizable from the burns, and some in so many pieces that they could not be identified. Anakin could feel the dread from his companion, both Jedi reeling from the pain of the people within and from the grim conclusion they had both reached.

Someone had bombed the Jedi Temple.

* * *

Nobody was safe from suspicion. The Jedi Temple was heavily guarded, and were there any with ill intent within the civilians that worked in the Temple, than the Jedi surely would have sensed it. Which led many to believe that the one responsible was a Jedi, or at least a trained Force sensitive. Six Jedi were killed, along with many civilians and clones, which resulted in something of a clash of jurisdiction over who was in charge of the investigation. The Senate appointed the recently promoted Admiral Tarkin to the case. The Jedi choice was a far easier one. They put Quinlan Vos on the assignment.

Every Jedi in the Temple was a suspect, and fortunately for the Order, their resident tracker had been off world at the time, having left the day after his return from Florrum for personal reasons. The Council granted him his request. The Kiffar had seemed strained and anxious, clearly shaken by his ordeal with his fallen friend, and it was an easy thing to allow the man to leave Coruscant to recenter himself. He was called back to investigate, and he had returned quickly, looking so much better for his short retreat. Within hours of being assigned to the case, not only had Quinlan found out the source of the explosion, but he had taken a suspect into custody as well, and while the Jedi's dismissive, carefree attitude irked Tarkin, he couldn't argue with results.

He was pleased further by the Kiffar's willingness to surrender the suspect to Republic custody. After all, she was not a Jedi, simply a civilian, the wife of a munitions expert working within the Temple. The man wasn't responsible for the bomb, he _was_ the bomb, accomplished by millions of nanodroids floating in his bloodstream that were detonated all at once. The woman didn't need to confess, and she didn't at first, but the Kiffar's use of psychometry revealed everything, and when confronted with the truth of her crime, she had surrendered.

That would have been the end of it, had the woman chosen to submit to questioning, but she instead had refused to answer any questions at all unless she was allowed to speak to Ahsoka Tano. It was extremely suspicious to everyone involved. As far as anyone knew, there was no connection to Quinlan's Padawan and the bomber, and on Republic insistence, the Togruta had gone to the prison to find out what she had to say. The meeting had ended with Ahsoka learning that the woman had done what she did with the help of a Jedi that not only had the idea, but taught her how to secure the nanodroids to facilitate the attack, and she had called Tano because she had heard that the young Jedi could be trusted. Furthermore, the bomber was _afraid_ of this Jedi and sought protection, but before Ahsoka could learn who this Jedi was, the bomber had been choked with the Force while a panicking Tano tried to stop it.

It didn't look like that on the recordings, and moments later, Ahsoka had been arrested as the mastermind behind the bombing. And _that_ sat poorly with Quinlan Vos, who wasted no time in removing his Padawan from Republic custody, which Tarkin had very reluctantly allowed. Prompted by Skywalker to act in good faith with the Jedi, and for Master Vos' easy surrender of the bomber, Ahsoka was released to be held in custody at the Temple until they got to the bottom of the situation. To the Republic, the evidence was clear, but to Quinlan Vos, the whole thing reeked of a set-up. And he was _not_ happy.

"Did you sense anything when you were in there?" Quinlan asked Tano from his seat on the Council, and the girl just shook her head. The interrogation had lasted hours already, and the young Padawan was exhausted.

"I'm sorry, Master..." she whimpered, a small smile on her lips as she looked at the Kiffar gratefully. Quinlan flashed her a bright grin.

"That's alright. We've all had trouble sensing the Dark Side." She felt herself tremble and look away. How could he say that so casually when he sat there steeped in darkness? Ahsoka supposed it didn't matter. Her Master was the only one of the Masters that had stood up for her, believed that she didn't do this thing. Master Qui-Gon would have believed it as well, but the old man was gone on some... _thing_. She didn't know what. Nobody seemed to know. If Vos was so full of the Dark Side and he still had such faith in her, Ahsoka had trouble coming to terms with how it could be such a bad thing. Perhaps his darkness didn't matter. Perhaps it was giving him the clarity that the Jedi were lacking. Bitterness welled up in her chest. Maybe Anakin had been right. Maybe she needed to keep an open mind when it came to her Master and his darkness.

"The evidence against you is compelling, Padawan Tano," Windu said coldly, and he was met with a sharp, cold laugh from the Kiffar.

"The evidence against her is _bullshit_ ," Vos growled. "Why would this woman only speak to Ahsoka if they have never met before!"

"Because they _have_ met before, Quinlan!" Mace shouted. His patience was gone. They had another fallen Jedi on their hands, and it would not stand. "We have a recording of her choking the suspect! What more do you want!"

"A hell of a lot more than that! We need to look at all the angles, we need to examine _everything_."

"You're letting your attachment cloud your judgement _again_ , Vos!" Mace took a deep breath and leaned back. "Admiral Tarkin is insisting that she be handed over to Republic custody for a trial. He says that if the Jedi try one of their own, then the trial will not be impartial, and given your _attachment problem_ , I'm inclined to agree."

"You're inclined to be an idiot, you can't do this!" Quinlan shouted, standing from his seat and taking Ahsoka by the arm. "Come on, we're leaving." Mace rose to his feet and began to say something, but Quinlan quickly reeled at him and pointed an accusing finger at the Master. "The Jedi have always tried their own. _Always_. If we deny her this, we need to cast her out of the Order, and that is _never_ going to happen!"

"It will need to go to vote, Vos!"

"Yeah, but not today. Not until I'm done investigating. And we can't have this vote anyway since Qui-Gon _isn't here_." Tightening his hand around the Togruta's arm, he pulled her from the Council Chamber and didn't hear another word. Anakin and Barriss Offee rushed up to greet them, Skywalker's entire being tense with worry, and the Mirialan threw her arms around the Togruta.

"What did they say?" he asked, wringing his hands and looking at his young friend, who seemed on the brink of tears.

"She's confined to the Temple until judgement can be passed," Vos mumbled. "They're talking about expelling her from the Order so she can be tried by the Republic, and refusing the Senate's request would be seen as an act of defiance against the Republic. Our hands are tied."

Anakin groaned loudly and rubbed a hand over his face. "Tarkin. I'll talk to him and see if I can't get him to ease up. At the very least, I can convince him to give us more time for an investigation. That recording is pretty damning, but it isn't good evidence. A skilled practitioner in the Dark Side could have done this from a fair distance, right?" Quinlan nodded, and Anakin groaned in frustration. "This entire thing is seditious and manipulative and _reeks_ of Sith involvement. I'd say it's Kenobi, but such a bombastic display isn't really his style, is it?"

"No, this is something else..." Vos mused, hand to his chin in deep thought. He was more focused than Ahsoka had ever seen him before, and just being with her made the Padawan feel that everything would be alright. "Whatever it is, it's of the Dark Side. I can't place it, but I can _feel_ it."

"Could another Jedi have gone rogue?" Anakin asked, and Barriss shivered.

"I hate to imagine that could be the case," the Mirialan said softly. "But so much is unclear, and things are so clouded with darkness because of the war. I feel many Jedi will fall before this is over."

"Yeah..." Anakin took a deep breath and stretched his shoulders above his head. "Alright, that matter's settled," he said, his tone cheery as he walked away, and Quinlan frowned.

" _Nothing_ is settled, Skywalker."

"Sure it is. I'm going out to find what's lurking around in the slums of Coruscant." He flashed the Kiffar a grin. "I'm not half the tracker you are, Vos, but I'm stubborn, and I don't stop until I get what want."

"I can help," Barriss softly offered. "I'm not much in terms of field work, but I can do some digging and see if I can't find where the nanodroids were secured." She smiled at her friend and laid a hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry, Ahsoka. We'll get you out of this."

* * *

Qui-Gon Jinn returned the next day just in time to see his former Padawan throw Asajj Ventress at the feet of the Council. His own interrogation by the Council on his mysterious whereabouts the past few weeks was postponed in favor of the far more interesting capture of a notorious Separatist commander, and her possible involvement in the bombing of the Jedi Temple. It didn't exonerate Ahsoka Tano, as Quinlan had hoped. The Republic held fast to the belief that the Padawan was guilty, based on the recording they had of her murder, and the possible involvement of Asajj Ventress only made her seem more guilty. The case against Tano was rapidly being built, and with Qui-Gon's return, Tarkin had again demanded that both Tano and Ventress be turned over to the Republic.

Laughter rang out across the chamber, much to the shock of Tarkin, his blue hologram wavering as he looked in disbelief at Qui-Gon Jinn, Jedi Master, as the man completely lost it. Nobody else could seem to see what was funny. "Let me see if I can understand this," he said, chucking as he regained composure. "You want us to turn over Ahsoka Tano for Republic justice, even though to do so, we would have to expel the Padawan from the Order?"

"That's correct," the Admiral said, hands behind his back and glaring at the Jedi.

"Right. That's not going to happen." Tarkin's eyes narrowed.

"You would stand in defiance of the Republic?"

"Boy," Qui-Gon drawled, leaning forward in his seat. "I have stood in defiance before the likes of Count Dooku, Mace Windu, Grandmaster Yoda, and the Jedi Council as a whole. Who the hell are you next to them?"

Tarkin bristled. "Standing against your own Order is one thing, but this is the _Republic_! You would defy the system you are sworn to serve?"

"I'll have you remember that I am sworn to serve the Jedi, _not_ you, Admiral, and I have defied them more times than I can count." Qui-Gon closed his eyes, sighing as he leaned back in his chair. "But no. I won't defy the Republic on this. You will have your due. _After_ we have completed our investigation." That seemed to satisfy the Admiral, though he didn't seem happy, and Anakin breathed a sigh of relief. It was good to have his Master back. "You are, of course, more than welcome to listen to the proceedings yourself, Admiral, if it pleases you."

"That _would_ please me, Master Jedi," Tarkin said stiffly, the hologram leaving the center of the room as it was projected off to the side to allow the interrogation to begin. Anakin stepped forward, pushing Ventress into the center of the circle of Masters, her hands cuffed tightly behind her.

"Asajj Ventress, I am _so_ pleased to say that you are under arrest," Mace said, and Qui-Gon clapped his hands, Master Windu wincing as he did so.

"Yes, well done, Mace. I'll be taking it from here."

"Master Jinn, you can't- _oww_!" Windu swiftly silenced himself and looked at Yoda next to him, the little Master gripping his stick aggressively.

"Master Windu. Shut up, you must." That did it. With a grumble, Master Windu slid down in his seat, furious eyes fixed on the Separatist and Sith assassin.

Qui-Gon smiled, inclined his head to Yoda when the Grandmaster gestured with his hand to proceed. "Anakin, explain how you came to find Ventress."

"Gladly, Master." He cleared his throat and stood up taller, pointing to Ahsoka, who stood next to Quinlan, her hands bound behind her. "Many of us believed that Ahsoka Tano was framed for the bombings at the Temple. She and I were headed toward the hangar just before it blew up, and if we had been in there just a moment earlier, we'd be dead as well. I know that isn't proof, but all the evidence we found felt like a set-up."

"Your feelings have no place in the proceedings, General," Tarkin said, his tone softened considerably when addressing his commander. "The fact remains that the evidence points to Ahsoka Tano as the culprit. The recording of her Force choking the one responsible for setting the bomb should be enough."

"Tarkin, why would she do something like that with the Force, which is rare enough to get herself blamed when she could have done something to divert attention away from her? Someone is setting her up, and I think we're looking at her," Skywalker growled, pointing at Ventress.

"Ventress?" Qui-Gon asked, and the woman glared viciously at him. "May I ask you a question regarding the Dark Side?" She didn't answer, which Qui-Gon took as a sign to continue. "Could a person with a talent in the Dark Side choke someone from a great distance?"

"I didn't kill _anyone_ ," she snarled. "Not in this matter."

"I'm not suggesting that you did," the Jedi said kindly. "I just want to know if it's a possibility, since you have worked very closely to those with a talent in the Dark Side."

Ventress looked the Jedi Master over, reached out to touch him with the Force, and found... _peace_. This wasn't the whirlwind of emotions that she had been engaging in with Quinlan, who sat nervously in the seat beside the Master. _That_ was acceptance and understanding of an entirely different sort. This was grace and ease, and she felt instantly relaxed. This Jedi wasn't like the others. "It's possible..." she ventured carefully. "I've seen Kenobi be tortured from halfway across the galaxy by his Master. I've seen Dooku choke the life out of someone, and he wasn't even in the room. So _yes_ , it's possible."

Qui-Gon nodded. "So, could you, for the sake of argument, choke Tarkin there?" He pointed to the hologram, who suddenly looked nervous. "You have a talent in the Dark Side, and the Admiral is a good distance, and you have a visual on him. Could you do it?"

"...no." she said softly. "But Kenobi could."

"This tells us nothing!" Tarkin snapped. "If she could do this thing you ask, _fine_ , but all this tells me is that someone has to be very close to do this."

Qui-Gon nodded. "I agree. We're dealing with an amateur. Anakin, tell us how you found Ventress. It seems we got sidetracked."

"Right." Anakin took in a deep breath. "We didn't think Ahsoka was responsible, despite the evidence, so I went out to see if I could dig anything up. We knew Ventress had been working as a bounty hunter, and since we knew this had to have some Dark Side motive, I thought she'd be a good place to start." Anakin smirked. "She's been making _lots_ of friends. As it turns out, bounty hunters don't like having their bounties stolen, and Ventress has been taking a _lot_ of jobs away from some big time hotshots." He shrugged. "Turns out she's pretty good, and it's making a lot of people very angry. You've got enemies, Ventress, and they gave you up in a second."

Ventress growled and looked down at the ground. " _Typical_."

"They said she was involved in the bombing?" Tarkin asked.

"N-no, no," Skywalker stammered quickly. "They said she is based here in Coruscant. I was going to go looking for her, but Barriss did some digging into the matter and found a warehouse down on 1315 that the bomber visited. I went to investigate, and I found the nanodroids there. Thousands of them, the same make as the ones used by our bomber." He grinned triumphantly. "And _that's_ where I found Ventress. Satisfied, Tarkin?"

"No," the man said quickly. "All this proves is that Tano had an accomplice."

"Damn it, Tarkin, you are _such_ an asshole..." The Admiral crossed his arms and glared at his General.

"With all due respect, Skywalker, I am interested in the truth. If you want to ignore the facts to protect your own, _fine_ , but don't expect me to look the other way when the evidence points to your friend as a traitor."

"Anakin," Qui-Gon said quickly, effectively stopping the Knight's angry retort, " _how_ did you catch Ventress? You and I have fought her several times. Many of us have, and if we know one thing about her, it's that she has a talent for not getting caught."

"...she was dazed," he admitted softly. "When I found her, she was barely conscious. I sent Rex ahead with a recon group to the warehouse so I could finish up with the bounty hunters, and they engaged her there. She killed six clones!"

"That wasn't me!" Ventress snarled, and Anakin glared at her.

"It _was_ you, Rex said he'd recognize your lightsabers anywhere! Anyway, Master, she fought back, but not hard." He frowned. "She tried to hit me with a _pipe_."

"You deserved it," Ventress growled.

"When I had her beat, she surrendered and came willingly." He snorted. "For her..."

"Well." Qui-Gon turned kind eyes on Ventress. She didn't look at him. "Would you care to explain yourself?"

"Why," she snarled. "Will you even believe me?"

"Not likely..." Mace grumbled, wincing in pain when Yoda struck him on the shin with his stick.

"I believe you have no reason to lie," Qui-Gon said softly, and Ventress looked up at him suspiciously. "Not on this matter, in any case."

What was _with_ this Jedi? Her pale blue eyes ran over him, and she shifted her shoulders in an attempt to ease the strain in her arms. It didn't matter what she said here. She was among the Republic's most wanted, and she was going into their most secure prison no matter what the outcome of this farce was. She looked over at Quinlan, this rogue Jedi who sat on the Council, and could feel anxiety bordering on panic radiating off of him. He wouldn't look at her. He wouldn't look at _anyone_ , and for a moment, Ventress felt almost betrayed. She had grown close to him, _very_ close, and the fact that he was saying nothing when he very well could seemed to her like he was distancing himself from her in case she _was_ responsible. He didn't trust her, and nor should he. She shook the thought away as soon as she had it. That wasn't it, she could feel it wasn't. In a single moment, Vos stood to lose not only the Padawan that he so cherished, but the woman that he... _well_ , he didn't love her, that's for certain, but they were a good team, at the very least.

One look at Ahsoka Tano, the young Padawan's face empty and lifeless, settled the matter for Ventress. It was what betrayal looked like, and Ventress knew it all too well. The urge to lie and damn the girl as a final revenge against the Jedi she hated passed. It was something that she would have done without a second thought a few short months ago, but Ventress had changed. That life was behind her, dead with her sisters.

"I was _ambushed_ ," she growled, looking away in embarrassment. "Not just anyone can sneak up on me. It had to be a Jedi."

"You're quick to accuse the Jedi, Ventress," Qui-Gon said, and Ventress tensed, looked up at the Master viciously, and instantly relaxed. The man was _smiling_. It wasn't accusatory, he was curious. "That, or you have a very high opinion of yourself."

"There are very few Force sensitive beings on Coruscant that _don't_ belong to the Jedi," she growled. "It's a logical assumption."

"But you're here."

"I'm here," Ventress began, trying to be patient but finding it very difficult to do so with so many hostile eyes on her, "because it's the one place in the galaxy where I'm safe from Obi-Wan Kenobi." When it looked like Qui-Gon had questions, she made to move her hand to silence him, but hissed when the sudden movement pulled at her shoulder. "The Sith betrayed me," she said between clenched teeth. "And I made the mistake of trying to get revenge. Kenobi isn't one to leave loose ends."

Qui-Gon nodded, his patient face filled with sadness. "I'm sorry for what my former student has done to you."

"I don't want your sympathy, _Jedi_." Qui-Gon drummed his fingers on the arm of his seat, carefully looking Ventress over, and the woman winced when she could feel his presence wrap around her. It was warm, comforting, and she wanted _nothing_ of it.

"What happened after you were attacked?" the Master asked, and Ventress took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and tried to make sense of it herself.

"I woke up in the warehouse that Skywalker found me in with a _lightsaber_ in my face," She growled, shooting a smug Anakin a vicious glare. "I just want to be _left alone_. I am done with the Sith, I am _done_ with this idiot war, and I am _especially_ done with the Jedi!"

"Well, _we_ aren't done with _you_ ," Anakin growled. "You don't get to just get away with all the things you've done because you say _you're_ done with it."

"I did _not_ get away with it!" Ventress snarled, staring to rise to her feet, but a dozen hands flew to lightsabers, and she thought better of it. "I did _not_ get away..."

"Peace, Anakin," Qui-Gon said softly when he felt the Knight's temper flare. "It's not for us to pass judgement on Asajj Ventress. Not yet, in any case. In time, the Force will show us the best course of action. Do you believe that?"

Slowly, Anakin stepped away from the woman, his eyes cast at the ground. "Yes, Master. I do. I just want justice for Ahsoka, she _didn't_ do this!"

Qui-Gon didn't answer his former Padawan. He was too busy observing Ventress. "Tell me, Asajj," he said softly, the woman tensing when he used her first name. "How does it come to be that a former servant of the Sith is confronted by an aggressive Jedi and _doesn't_ draw her lightsaber? You could have escaped if you did."

Ventress glared at the Master. "I _didn't_ have them," she said between tightly clenched teeth. "They were stolen from me."

" _She's lying_!" Anakin shouted, stepping forward again. "Rex said he _saw_ her! Six clones are dead, and we have the bodies to prove that they were killed by _lightsabers_!"

"If I _had_ my weapons, Skywalker," Ventress snarled, "believe me, you'd know it. I didn't fight any clones, and I'm willing to bet that the person you're looking for is the same one who stole my lightsabers."

"I've heard enough," Tarkin snapped, the hologram flickering as he moved to stand in the center of the room beside Anakin. "Her story seems terribly convenient. She is a known Separatist agitator and terrorist, and she cannot be trusted. I stand by Skywalker and his clones. Her presence in the warehouse alone is enough to add yet another conviction to her already long list of crimes."

"So you believe Ahsoka is innocent?" Anakin asked hopefully, but the Admiral shook his head.

"She is, without question, involved in this. All our evidence points to Ahsoka Tano and Asajj Ventress being co-conspirators."

" _No_!" All eyes shot to Quinlan Vos, the Master out of his seat, his fists balled in anger and his entire body shaking with tension. He had _enough_. "Ahsoka is innocent, we all know it, and it's _impossible_ for Ventress to be involved!" Tarkin was not impressed.

"Oh? And you have learned of this _how_?"

"Because..." Because _what_? Because he hadn't sensed her there? Because he saw her in none of his visions? He hadn't seen the culprit either, which made that more of an excuse than anything else. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and settled on the truth. "Because she was with me at the time of the bombing."

Ventress stared in disbelief at Quinlan as the room around her erupted into chaos, accusations flying around them. _Why_. It was true, yes, but saying such removed Ventress from the equation and made his Padawan seem all the more guilty. So _why_...

The room silenced when Yoda slammed his stick on the ground, the sharp clang silencing the Masters, though it did nothing to stop their suspicious, accusatory looks. "True, is this?" Yoda asked softly, and it took Ventress a while to notice that he was talking to her.

"...yes," she said. "I was with Quinlan."

"She's been teaching me about Dooku," Vos said quickly. " _Nobody_ knows the Count like she does, and if we're going to end this war, we need to get to him, and Ventress has been helping to accomplish that!"

"She was Dooku's _assassin_ ," Mace said in complete disbelief. "She can't be trusted!"

"You're right, she _was_ his assassin," Vos growled. "And now, there isn't anyone in this galaxy who hates the Count more than she does. She's an asset, and we'd be fools not to take advantage of it!"

"This changes nothing!" Tarkin snapped. "All this does is bring suspicion on you as well, Master Vos. You're in cahoots with an enemy of the Republic!"

" _Former_ enemy of the Republic," Vos growled, but was quickly silenced when Qui-Gon raised his hand for quiet and leaned in toward Ventress, his elbows resting on his knees and his hands clasping before him.

"The subject of Ventress' involvement with Vos is another topic entirely, and certainly not necessarily a crime. We need to stay focused." He took a deep breath. "Ventress. How did you know about this warehouse?"

" _I didn't_ ," she snarled, but her anger dropped away when she saw a sad smile cross the Master's face, a knowing look in his eye.

"I know you didn't. But _someone_ did. Anakin." The Knight stood up straight and held his breath. "Who else knew about the warehouse?"

"I-I don't know. The bomber, I guess. I just went there because Barriss said-"

A cold pit dropped into Skywalker's stomach when Qui-Gon looked at Luminara, and he could feel the Mirialan felt the same way. It wasn't possible. It _couldn't be._ "Where is your Padawan, Luminara?" Qui-Gon asked softly, his voice filled with sympathy and compassion, but the other Master just shook her head.

"No, Barriss wouldn't do this," she said firmly. "This thing is of the Dark Side, Qui-Gon, people have been _murdered_. My Padawan isn't capable, she abhors violence!"

"So did Obi-Wan." It hit a nerve, though the Mirialan Master did her best not to show it. She bit her lip and looked away, and when Ahsoka leaned out to look at the woman, she could see her quietly mouthing the Jedi Code. Ahsoka didn't want to believe it to be true. Barriss was her friend and had been for years. That she would _frame_ her for the murders of many people was unthinkable, and yet, Tano had sensed darkness from the girl before. She thought herself simply paranoid then, but between the darkness she saw daily with her Master, confirmed by his recent murder and now the revelation of his connection to Ventress, she was willing to believe anything. What was worse was that as soon as she thought it, she knew it to be true. There was only one culprit, and it was Barriss Offee.

"Allow me to put together a _new_ story," Qui-Gon said sadly, and everyone collectively leaned forward to listen. He even had the suspicious Tarkin's attention. "Our mastermind coerced our bomber into attacking the Jedi Temple, presumably out of fear, and had told her that were she to get caught, the Jedi to contact was Ahsoka Tano. When this _did_ happen, our little mastermind killed the bomber, effectively framing Ahsoka for both the murder and the bombings."

"You said that only a Master in the ways of the Force could accomplish such a thing from a distance," Tarkin stated. "But Tano was alone in the room with her."

"I didn't say she needed to be _in_ the room, Admiral," Jinn said firmly. "Any Padawan can manipulate an object from another room so long as they know it is there, and the suspect in question is _highly_ skilled, and would be watching this meeting very closely. After all, the bomber could reveal her identity." Tarkin didn't look convinced, but he gave the Jedi a short, curt nod to continue. "According to Anakin, Asajj Ventress isn't exactly difficult to find, and with a known enemy of the Republic walking around, it gave her a way to turn Jedi suspicion outward, preventing an internal investigation that would result in her discovery. I think the rest speaks for itself."

"And you think a _Padawan_ could hide her presence from Ventress and get the drop on her?" Mace asked.

"I do. We all know the Dark Side is difficult to detect." Qui-Gon leaned back in his chair and sighed heavily. "If Quinlan couldn't find this warehouse, than nobody could, unless they knew about it beforehand."

"And it couldn't have been Ahsoka that attacked the clones at the warehouse," Anakin added. "She was confined to the Temple at the time."

"Which makes our prime target _Ventress_ ," Tarkin insisted, but Qui-Gon shook his head.

"If that were true, she wouldn't have attacked Anakin with a pipe of all things when he tried to apprehend her, she would have used her lightsabers. She's telling the truth. She has no reason to lie, this crime would be one of the lesser atrocities on a very, _very_ long list. Anything she says can't possibly hurt her further. And..." he added, looking over at a very tense Quinlan. "I believe she is trying to build a new life for herself. Leaving the Sith speaks well of her."

There was silence for a while as the Masters looked at Ventress, but she refused to meet any of the accusing stares. She didn't know what to make of any of this. "I can... _accept_ this version of events," Tarkin said reluctantly. "The presence of this third party explains a great deal. However, the _evidence_ supports the notion that Ventress and Tano are co-conspirators. The simplest answer is often the correct one, and what the evidence supports is... _messy_." He looked at Anakin. "General Skywalker, if you can find proof that this third party, this... _Barriss_ is the one responsible, it would prove to me beyond the shadow of a doubt that Ahsoka Tano _and_ Asajj Ventress are innocent of this crime."

"I'll get that proof for you, Tarkin."

"I'm coming with you," Luminara muttered, standing quickly and heading toward the large doors. "This is my Padawan, and therefore my responsibility. If she has done this terrible thing, I will see to it that she is apprehended."

"Very well," Anakin said softly, following the woman out of the door. "After you, Master."

* * *

Barriss let her Master and Anakin into her sparse room without any complaint, eager to hear what had been decided about Ahsoka and the captured Ventress. Luminara offered her no answers, simply walked into the room, cold and detached, to the desk where Barriss' lightsaber lay and took it into her elegant hands. Anakin had been concerned about bringing the Master with him on this, thought she may be too personally involved in the matter, but it appeared as if the Mirialan Master had already distanced herself from her Padawan. He had to remind himself that not all Jedi were as emotional as he was.

"I thank you for finding the information about the warehouse, Barriss," Luminara said, holding the lightsaber in her hands and examining it. She had been there when her student had crafted the blade. "It proved to be invaluable to finding the truth of the matter."

"I'm happy to be of assistance, Master," she said meekly, bowing to the woman and smiling gently at Anakin, the Knight standing by the door, arms crossed over his chest. Luminara had insisted he not leave the door. If there was to be a fight, she didn't want to risk any more Jedi being harmed. "What did the Council decide? Is Ahsoka free? Did Ventress do it?"

"How did you come about this information?" the Master asked, ignoring the question to the concern of her Padawan.

"I-I wanted to help," Barriss stammered, slowly creeping to the side of the room to put some distance between herself and the other Jedi. "Ahsoka is my friend, and I know she did not do this. So...I looked through the information that Quinlan provided and chased leads that we were unable to follow up on after Ahsoka was arrested." She took a deep, shuddering breath, her small hands shaking from nerves. "Please, Master, tell me if Ahsoka is alright. I know she didn't do this, she is _innocent_."

"You're right, she is innocent of this," the Master said softly. "Ventress was found in the warehouse."

Barriss grinned. "So she _did_ do it!" Her smile faded when she saw how serious, how _grim_ the Master looked. "Master, is Ahsoka alright? Did they not believe her?" She gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. "Did they let Ventress get away with it?"

"No. Ventress is still in our custody." Luminara's face hardened. "But I don't believe she did it. She says her lightsabers were stolen by the real culprit. And I believe her."

Barriss' hands flew open, two curved cylinders flying to her grasp just as Luminara activated her lightsaber and swung it at the Padawan, and with a gasp, Barriss ignited the weapons she held, the red blades extending to clash violently against the Master's strike. Anakin drew and ignited his own blade, but stayed by the door, just as he was told to do. She wouldn't be escaping.

" _Why didn't you get rid of them_?!" Luminara shouted, her voice trembling with emotion and her blue eyes filled with pain as her Padawan's face darkened with sinister delight.

"I think they suit me," she said icily, and she swung at her Master's feet, but Luminara was far too fast She leapt out of the way, blocking a few quick, vicious swings from her student, but the close quarters made Barriss wild, powerful blows send her off balance. She caught herself the first time, but the second, Luminara pressed her back with the Force with such power that the young student was thrown back hard against the wall, the impact making her loose her grip on her sabers, which Anakin quickly called to him. Skywalker sighed in relief as he watched the Master hold the Padawan against the wall. It was over before it even began. The fight was hardly a fair one. A young, freshly fallen Padawan against the cold, detached might of a Jedi Master made for gratefully short work. Had she been able to get free, more may have died.

Anakin clipped the lightsabers to his belt and removed the binders he had brought with him, and Luminara unceremoniously slammed her former student on the ground, the younger girl struggling but unable to move under the weight of the Force. Securing her hands behind her back, Anakin hauled the girl up, and the three of them began to long walk back to the Council Chamber. It was... _uncomfortable_. Barriss had been one of his first friends in the Temple. She had always been kind and patient with him, always willing to explain things when he was too embarrassed to ask his Master. And now, that same girl had fallen to the Dark Side, had committed murders, six of those being Jedi. It was unthinkable, and Anakin felt betrayed. It wasn't a pleasant feeling. When Ahsoka had told him about the murder that Quinlan had committed, he could somewhat understand it. He had been influenced by a Sith Lord, and he was protecting his Padawan, in a sense. Anakin had also murdered people after his mother had died, six Tuscan Raiders were dead because of him, and while he knew it was the wrong thing to do, he didn't regret it. Revenge felt _good_.

But this was different. Barriss had killed lots of people, people she never even knew in the most dispassionate way he could think of. And then she tried to frame _Ahsoka_ , their mutual friend, for murder, and Ventress for... _well_ , Ventress may have been innocent of this, but she would have deserved it. He could sense Luminara's pain, despite her stoic face, and knew that she was running through all the things that his own Master had when they discovered the truth about Obi-Wan. Had she failed her Padawan? Could she have prevented this? If she'd been a better teacher, if she'd listened better, if she'd trained her harder, and a hundred other ifs would plague her, at least for a time, but Anakin knew this was no fault of Luminara. This was all Barriss, as painful as that was to admit.

"The only thing the Jedi Council believes in is _violence_ ," Barriss growled as they walked down the halls, and Anakin's temper rose, and he began to say something when Luminara's hand rested on his arm.

"Don't, Skywalker. She isn't worthy of our attention." With a nod, Anakin fixed his gaze directly before him. The silence, it seemed, was bothering the Padawan far more than the Knight and the Master.

"The Jedi are the ones responsible for this war," Barriss said again, her nerves prompting her to speak again when Anakin shoved her into the elevator that would bring them to the Council. "The entire Order has lost their way, we are _villains_ in this conflict!" The Master and the Knight said nothing, and the girl became frantic. "We have transformed into an army fighting for the Dark Side, Master! Can't you see it?!"

"You may not be wrong," Luminara said softly as the doors slid open, and she looked coldly at her student. "But you don't respond to violence with _murder_. I thought I taught you better." Without another word, she strode into the Council Chamber with Anakin and Barriss in tow.

Anakin pushed Barriss into the center of the room, the Masters looking at her sadly as Luminara stood before Qui-Gon and bowed deeply. "I thank you, Master, for your dedication in getting to the truth of this matter. I recuse myself from the sentencing of my Padawan. Please consider my vote with yours, regardless of what your decision may be."

Qui-Gon stood and gently hugged the Mirialan, and with a shiver, Luminara gripped the Master's robes tightly, her shoulders shaking with tears. Anakin stepped into the center of the room, took the curved handled lightsabers off his belt, and held them before Ventress. "Yours, I take it?"

The woman nodded, and to Anakin's surprise, there was no smirk on her lips, no I-told-you-so expression on her face. There was just... _weariness_ , like this had been a trial for her, like all she wanted to do was return home, like she just wanted this to be over, regardless of how it ended, and Skywalker felt a twinge of pity for his old enemy. Perhaps Quinlan was right. Maybe she _had_ changed.

He held the lightsabers out to Tarkin's hologram. "That good enough for you?"

The Admiral nodded. "I am glad we could get to the truth of the matter. It would have been a shame of this traitor had gotten away with this."

"There is no ignorance, there is knowledge," Qui-Gon said, releasing Luminara and running a thumb over her high cheekbone. "We'll take it from here, my friend. I'll come see you tonight." Luminara said nothing, just nodded and swiftly left the Council Chamber, and Barriss' cries for her Master fell on deaf ears. Qui-Gon took a deep breath. "Are you going to try and deny what you have done, Barriss?" The girl shook her head, and that was enough. "Admiral Tarkin, I believed I promised the Republic would have its due in this matter, yes?"

"You did, Master Jinn."

Qui-Gon sighed. "Do we even need to vote on this? I motion to expel Barriss Offee from the Jedi Order. Is there anyone who opposes this?" There was silence in the chamber, and the young Mirialan trembled as the Temple Guards were sent in to take her away. As they secured the Padawan and released Ahsoka, Qui-Gon quietly asked, "Barriss, is there anything you have to say for yourself?"

"We have all fallen _so_ far from the Light we once held so dear," she whispered. "My attack was an attack on everything the Jedi have become."

Qui-Gon nodded. "I understand. May the Force have mercy on you, Barriss." There was silence long after the Padawan was escorted away, save for the quiet, grateful muttering of Quinlan and Ahsoka, and Qui-Gon rubbed his head wearily. "I didn't expect to come back to a mess like this..."

"Thank the Force you were here to help us resolve it," Depa Billaba said softly.

"Where were you, Master?" Anakin asked softly, and Qui-Gon raised a placating hand.

"Another time. We still have business to attend to." He smiled softly and looked at the woman still on the floor. "Ventress."

" _Master_ ," she spat.

"You are free to go."

" _What_?" Mace growled, jumping out of his seat, "Are you out of your mind, Qui-Gon! This is an enemy of the Republic! She's committed _thousands_ of crimes!"

"And without her help today, an innocent Jedi would have been imprisoned or worse, and a servant of the Dark Side would have been free to kill again. We owe her our thanks." He smiled gently at her. "Besides, she isn't the same as before. I feel she's trying to change."

" _Yes_!" Quinlan agreed swiftly, jumping out of his chair. "Yes, she is!"

"I can answer for myself, _Jedi_ ," Ventress hissed at Vos, and the Kiffar swiftly sat back down, beaming like an idiot. "I...have walked away from the Dark Side. I needed to turn back before it was too late for me."

Qui-Gon nodded. "And you have been helping Master Vos learn about Dooku's weaknesses?" Ventress nodded slowly, but couldn't help but feel that the Jedi Master knew far more than he was letting on. She didn't like it. She expected Jedi to be harsh and judgmental, but Quinlan hadn't been, and now this one was proving to be just as unconventional. What _were_ Jedi like this doing serving on the High Council? Regardless, it had been enough for Qui-Gon. "May we call on you again for further help?" Ventress looked as shocked as the rest of the Council. "The fight against the Sith is a dangerous one, and we may have a powerful ally in you. If we called upon you, would you come and share what you know?"

"Do you think I am _completely_ stupid?" she snarled, and Qui-Gon merely shrugged.

"At a later date, I will discuss the possibility of issuing you a full pardon for your crimes, if you were to aid us in this matter."

Before any of the sputtering Council members could say anything, Ventress bitterly said, "I'll _think_ about it."

Qui-Gon nodded. "Anakin, will you see to it that our friend Ventress is escorted outside the Temple safely?"

"Master, I really-"

"Please, Anakin..." Jinn said softly, and Skywalker felt instantly ashamed. He didn't realize how tired the Master had looked. "We've all had a difficult day, and all our faith has been shaken. Please, don't argue, not on this."

"R-right..." He grabbed Ventress by the arm and pulled her to her feet and undid the bindings on her wrists, and the woman frowned, rolled back and stretched her aching arms. They silently left the chamber as the Council was dismissed for the day with the promise to meet early to discuss Barriss, Ventress, and everything else that had happened that day.

As soon as they were out of the chamber, Ahsoka threw herself into her Master's arms. They didn't say anything. They didn't need to. She felt betrayed by her friend Barriss, and she felt betrayed by the Order. Not by all of it, but there were Masters who were willing to cast her out of the Jedi. Anakin, Luminara, Qui-Gon, her own Master, even _Ventress_ had fought for her in a way, but there were others that did nothing. She was glad she was still a part of the Jedi, she was, but she could feel the pull of distrust begin to grow inside her, a cold, angry pit that sat in her chest when she thought about what had happened. Her Master had murdered a man, and she could feel the rush of darkness within him, but...perhaps it wasn't such a bad thing. Not if he was doing what was right, and there was nothing more right than attacking the cause of the war at its source. And besides, he had stood beside her, fought with everything he had within him to clear her name. That was worth more than some code.

She wouldn't say another word about the darkness that flowed within him. Not when she could feel it so keenly herself.


	77. Convergence

Jedi Master Saesee Tiin fell to the ground in a heap, groaning as he tried to rise, but found he could not. The wall behind him was caved in from the force of the impact, and blood clung to the sharp rifts and valleys of crumpled metal. He had been tortured before. He had been tortured _often_ , as of late, but there was something different about Kenobi today. Today, he wasn't just cruel for the sake of being cruel. Today, his violence had purpose, and the Sith Lord was _happy_.

It didn't bode well.

"Come on, get up, Jedi!" Kenobi laughed, standing across the room with his arms extended out from his sides. "You can't quit yet, we've only just begun!"

Saesee was a Jedi Master, did his best to adhere to the Jedi Code, but Force, he _hated_ Obi-Wan Kenobi. He had struggled against his containment at first. Then the cruel Sith had thrown the mangled body of Eeth Koth into his cell, and he shut up. Master Koth was alive only in the most basic sense. His body still functioned, but his legs had been severed at the knee, the amputations never treated to facilitate proper healing, but perhaps worst of all, the Zabrak was _lifeless_ , like the Force had been drained out of him. Which, it turns out, it _was_. Any attempt to connect with the Jedi Master resulted in physical pain for Tiin, Koth's once strong presence replaced by a gaping wound where the Force should have been. Somehow, the creature that was once Obi-Wan Kenobi had ripped the Force right out of the Master, leaving him an empty, gaping shell that yearned for life, but could not reach it.

He spent that time in silent meditation. It was all he could do to stave off insanity.

Saesee was uncertain of the passage of time, but eventually, the grisly reminder of the Sith's power was removed, and the torture began. _That_ he could handle. At first. Kenobi approached torture with an almost bored ease, as if he were simply aimlessly experimenting, uncertain of what he actually wanted from the man. The physical abuse was easy enough to bear, but the mental ravishing was not. It was an easy thing for Kenobi to break into a person's mind if he was allowed full focus, and when the Sith came to visit, he was _always_ focused. It took no time at all for Obi-Wan to open the Jedi's mind and rape it, forcefully removing anything of value with disinterest, as though it was nothing. Saesee had difficulty remembering what happened in those sessions. They were hazy, unfocused, and while he never _felt_ as though he submitted to the Sith, Kenobi was never shy about recounting how the Jedi moaned for his Sith Master, as all Jedi were made to do.

Still, Saesee Tiin could bear it, and did so with satisfaction when the Sith had _complimented_ his fortitude, bemoaned the fact that the Jedi simply would not break. He could be made to submit, yes, but it was never complete, and it never lasted. That had changed when the Sith Lord had altered his tactic, and showed the Jedi instead how submission was rewarded by bringing his fellow Master, Shaak Ti, before him. At first, he had thought she hadn't changed, was bolstered by seeing her, comforted to know she was alive and unharmed. But then the Sith had touched her, and the Togruta Master's famous resolve melted into mewling submission to the Sith. He didn't sense the Dark Side in her. She had _chosen_ this, and she had told him so herself.

Kenobi had made it worse by forcing him to watch Shaak Ti happily and so, _so_ willingly lay her body open for a clone to take her as he pleased, and she had _begged_ for it. It nearly broke the Iktotchi Master to see his friend debase herself, willingly render her beautiful form for use as little more than a pleasure slave for one of Kenobi's cruel cohorts. Kenobi had been _endlessly_ amused by how badly it hurt the Jedi, had even offered to have the Togruta spread her long legs for _him_ , if only he were to submit to the Sith's will, but Tiin would have none of it. However, the shameless display _had_ bothered the Master, which was more than could be said for the torture he endured, and Kenobi had Saesee's cell wired with audio receivers that played the lewd, shameless sounds of Shaak Ti's breathless moans and pleas every time the clone took her.

That was bad enough. And then the Sith had found his motivation.

It couldn't have been more than a week, maybe two, since Kenobi's cruel intentions were set to vile purpose, but something had changed in the Sith, some awful inspiration had struck, and he set to work crafting a masterpiece of pain and suffering out of the Jedi. If it wasn't Kenobi himself, it was his rancor, a cruel, savage, _enormous_ beast with ghostly white skin and wicked, twisting horns that Obi-Wan had called Yoda in a grim mockery of the Jedi Grandmaster. Or it was his clone, a commander called Cody that, as far as Saesee could tell, was the Sith's right hand and was _just_ as cruel as his Dark Side Master. It was made worse by the fact that the clone had used Shaak Ti's lightsaber, and the Jedi could hardly stand watching the Master's elegant blade be used for such ill purpose. But there was nothing he could do about it. There was nothing he could do about _any_ of it.

"I should tell you, it's about to be my _best day_!" the Sith called, a flick of his wrist sending the Master slamming against the opposite wall. He coughed when he landed on the floor with a sickening thud. Kenobi's command of the Force was _terrifying_ , so effortlessly he commanded such awful power. Saesee groaned as he pushed up to his hands and knees. He thought one of his horns may have cracked. "I thought the Jedi were splintered before, but _now_..." Kenobi gave a long, low whistle. "I don't know how they're going to recover from this! Would you like to hear it?"

" _No_."

Obi-Wan grinned. It was the most the Jedi had spoken to him all day. " _Perfect_! Come here, baby, I'll tell you _all_ about it." It was a command, the full weight of the Force behind it, and the Jedi could feel the Dark Side pierce into his mind, grab hold of his consciousness, and pull him toward its Master. Saesee tried to resist, tried to keep his heels planted, his hands tightly gripping the floor, but it was like fighting against a rapid current. The process was excruciatingly slow, but the Sith inflicted no pain on him, and eventually, Saesee Tiin crawled to Kenobi's side. The Sith grabbed hold of the Iktotchi's downward sloping horns and yanked back hard, the Jedi hissing as he looked up into the Sith's glowing eyes.

"Two weeks ago, your precious Jedi Temple was bombed." The Jedi's eyes widened, and with a gleeful laugh, Kenobi affectionately patted his cheek. " _I know_! Awful, isn't it? It wasn't even the doing of the Separatists! Even the _Sith_ aren't at fault. _Well_ ," he corrected himself, a dark smirk on his face, "not exactly." Kenobi laughed at the Jedi's confusion. "It was one of your own. A Padawan, Barriss Offee."

"Luminara's student?" Tiin asked, his shock palpable in the air before it quickly turned to anger. " _You_ did this."

"I am completely innocent of this one, my friend. Back at the start of the war, I sensed darkness in her, and we _may_ have had a conversation aboard the _Tranquility_ , but I did nothing to influence her. All I did was give word to her own thoughts." He grinned broadly when he felt the Jedi's heart begin to race. "This darkness was her own, and her fall an event of her own making."

"This will not divide the Jedi," Tiin growled, shaking his head to try and free himself from the Sith's grasp, but Kenobi simply held tighter.

"It is splintering the Council, and Offee's very long, _very_ contentious trial is straining them. Between the deaths of Masters Adi Gallia and Even Piell and the grave mistrust and suspicion that has come of wrongly accusing Quinlan Vos' Padawan, the Council is having a very difficult time staying united."

"Sith evil, _all of it_!" Tiin snapped, moving suddenly to try and dislodge Kenobi, but he felt his mind grasped in cold, dark hands, softly whispering for him to calm, and he couldn't help himself as his body relaxed at the Sith's command. His mind struggled against it, but his body wouldn't obey him, content instead to submit to Kenobi's orders.

"Which brings me to my best day!" Kenobi cried, releasing the horns watching in satisfaction as the Jedi bowed his head, the will to fight still thee but the ability to act stolen from him. " _Today_ , Dooku and I are taking over the holonet. It's been a long time in the works, but our agents have finally hacked the relays and integrated the Shadowfeed with the holonet source code. By the end of the day, the Republic will be _flooded_ with Separatist propaganda, and _I_ will be standing in your Council chamber, stirring your Masters into a _frenzy_." Kenobi grinned broadly. "It's going to be _chaos_. Beautiful, beautiful chaos. Information is power, and when the Republic can't trust the information given to them, they may as well have lost the war."

"You are a _virus_ ," Saesee snarled, eyes bright with anger. "The Jedi will not stand for this! This will be your last act, they _will_ send someone for you!"

"Oh, I am counting on it," Kenobi drawled lazily, his disaffected tone angering the Jedi even further. " _This_ is how you will serve me. I found exactly what I am going to use you for, and _you_ , my friend, are bait for Anakin Skywalker. Give me a few weeks and you will be _fully_ prepared for the trap I am setting."

Kenobi grinned when he heard the Jedi's breath hitch. "He will not be lured into your trap," Saesee said, but his wavering voice belayed his lack of confidence in the statement. Anakin Skywalker was emotional, impulsive bordering of reckless, and above all, trusted the Force to navigate him out of harm's way. It usually worked, but Tiin, in his long imprisonment in the Sith stronghold, had realized that the Force wasn't only with the Jedi. The Force, in a dark twist of fate, favored Obi-Wan Kenobi as well.

"He _will_ , just you wait and see. The lure of a Jedi of the High Council, especially one that was lost because of _his_ failure, will be too much, especially when I put you on a ship bearing precious Anakin's name. He will know it's a trap, but it won't matter." He laughed when the Jedi shivered. "Of course, what the Council will do with you is another matter entirely. You have been in my custody for a _long_ time, and I'm certain they remember what happened the last time they let a Master back inside the Order that had prolonged exposure to me. My touch," Kenobi whispered, leaning in toward the Master and wiggling his fingers before him, "is _poisonous_."

"I am _not_ affected by you!"

"That you know of," Kenobi drawled, straightening up and smoothing out his robes. "I could have you calling me Master in under a minute, if I wished it, but I rather enjoy these talks we have. Besides, the Council won't know what to believe, they can't sense the Dark Side. I imagine the decision on what to do with you will tear them further apart. _If_ I choose to allow you back to them."

"We should have killed you when your family surrendered you to the Order," the Jedi spat, his temper flaring dangerously close to darkness, and the Sith Lord laughed when he felt the Force darken in the Jedi's rage. "If only we knew at the time that we'd be raising Darth Nihilus reborn, we could have spared the galaxy of your evil!"

"Oh, _if only_!" Kenobi said, amused laugher in his aristocratic voice. "The power to consume the essence of the living...mind you, I _do_ have that power, but it isn't nearly so grand as the Lord of Hunger's power to drain the life out of entire _planets_! I hear he made a holocron, perhaps I will search for it after the war..." Kenobi looked away from the Jedi, the Dark Side surging around him in hunger, _desire_ for the knowledge of such a powerful Sith, when he suddenly gasped in realization and looked back to Master Tiin. "Oh, you've been studying Sith history!" He waved a dismissive hand. "I applaud you for your efforts, but it's too late. Know your enemy, I have always said, and _nobody_ knows the Jedi better than the Sith..."

The soft hum of the energy field that crossed the door ceased, and the heavy door slid open with a hiss as Cody stepped through. The Jedi glared at him viciously, but the clone seemed to pay him no mind. "My Lord. Mand'alor Satine has arrived."

"What?" The Sith drew up to his full height and strode quickly to Cody's side. "She isn't supposed to be here, she's supposed to be home."

" _You_ try telling her that, sir."

Kenobi growled. "Tyranus and I have a meeting with our Master to get permission to launch our attack on the holonet, we can't postpone it." The Sith ran a hand over his face and sighed. "I suppose it can't be helped. I better go see to her before she goes to war with Dooku and tears my palace down."

"She is _with_ the Count, my Lord," Cody said, a sly smirk on his face. "And they are getting along famously."

"...I fear that may be worse." Kenobi extended his hand toward the Jedi, and the Iktotchi was pressed flat against the ground, his body convulsing as the Sith Lord reached into his mind and gripped it tightly, and the screams of pain were silenced quickly as the man fell still. "Put that away for me, Cody..." Obi-Wan ordered as he turned and left the cell, taking long strides through his palace to find his lover. She was not difficult to locate, as the sounds of her and Dooku quietly talking and laughing carried a long ways in the black halls of the palace. He found them sitting very close to each other on the large, comfortable couch in his spacious livingroom, her delicate hand lay lightly in the other Sith's hand, and Obi-Wan, bracing himself for jealousy, felt... _pleased_. It was uncomfortable, and he didn't like it _at all_. He and Dooku were getting close, yes, but Satine was _his_. Why wasn't he feeling jealousy?

"Satine." The Sith Lord and the Mand'alor both looked up to see Kenobi, and Dooku quickly rose, extending his hand to help the woman to her feet, which she gratefully accepted, and with a bright smile, she quickly walked toward Kenobi, the Sith Lord meeting her halfway and tightly embracing her. "Making nice with the Separatists?" Obi-Wan teasingly asked, cupping her cheek and quickly kissing her lips before she pouted.

"Getting to know your fellow Sith. Tyranus has been _very_ accommodating."

"Really," Kenobi said flatly, turning his gaze on Dooku, who looked perfectly smug as he sauntered over. "I wonder what he wants."

"He wants," Dooku droned, "to get acquainted with Mand'alor Satine. I have heard a great many things about her as of late." A small, reluctant smile tugged at the edge of his lips. "I have to say, I'm impressed. Her knowledge of the Sith is... _extensive._ "

"I'm to be mother to a line of Sith Lords, Tyranus, it had better be extensive," the Duchess said, folding her hands before her and resting on the slight swell of her stomach, and Obi-Wan felt himself beaming with pride. Shy of five months by a week, she was showing enough to be noticeable, but only slightly, and the child's Force presence was strong, far more focused, and well defined. He reacted to the world around him, was attuned to his mother's moods, his father's presence, and with the addition of this new Sith Lord, Kenobi found the child had stilled before the unfamiliar dark power.

"Yes, our Master has spoken briefly about the child," Dooku said softly, eying the woman, and Kenobi quickly took her hand. "I can feel it in the Force, it's...powerful. In the hands of Lord Sidious, the child could destroy us all." He looked at Obi-Wan. "Do you truly mean to surrender the child to him?"

"We are doing our duty to the Sith," Satine said softly, drawing closer to Obi-Wan. "We will do what we must to serve the Sith Initiative."

Dooku took a small step forward and leaned in toward his fellow Sith. "Tu galetis manti kialeisti Sidious kia kaer'tave berniuk." _You cannot possibly plan to allow Sidious to keep your child._

"Isar tu'minti nunzo zioplys, Tyranus?" _Do you think me a fool?_

"I'm standing _right here_ ," Satine growled, crossing her arms across her chest and frowning, and with a soft laugh, Kenobi leaned over and kissed her cheek. "And I _do_ understand some!"

"I know you do, pet," Obi-Wan said, offering his arm to the woman, and she delicately took it, leaning her head on his shoulder as they walked through the palace toward the large central spire, Tyranus falling in on his other side. "I thought you were in talks with Republic and Confederate delegates this week."

"The negotiations were short," she said curtly. "As it turns out, your friend Padmé Amidala is very skilled at what she does."

"And what were we negotiating for?" Kenobi asked, and Dooku next to him rolled his eyes.

"Some nonsense about delivering relief to contested worlds," the Count scoffed.

"Which will soon be _Mandalore's_ worlds," Satine said softly, and Obi-Wan gently kissed her fingers. "Your war is making it very easy to expand my empire. And since we were done so quickly, I thought I'd come see you." She laid her hand over Obi-Wan's chest. "We've had so little time to be together as of late."

"I know. The work of the Sith has kept me busy."

"Have you caught that animal you were hunting yet?" Kenobi's face darkened and he tightly squeezed the Duchess' hand.

"Not yet. He's learned from his prior mistakes. If he's moving, than he's being quiet about it. We will just have to keep our guard up until then." They reached the end of a long hallway, and Obi-Wan laid his hand on a control panel on the wall, the device softly beeping as it scanned his biometrics, and the elevator slid open with a gentle hiss. Obi-Wan and Satine stepped in, leaving Dooku to gawk in the hallway.

" _She_ is coming to the meeting with our Master?" the Count asked, and Kenobi shrugged.

"I can't see why not. She's going to hand her child over to the man, I _think_ she should meet him once before she does. Besides, our Master likes to know our allies."

Dooku frowned, but stepped into the elevator, and the doors closed swiftly behind them as the platform began to rise, and the Count rolled his eyes and turned his back to the couple when the Duchess reached up to stroke her lover's beard, bringing his face down so she could kiss him, gently at first, but becoming quickly impassioned as the Sith's unrestrained emotion took hold.

"You couldn't _wait_ to do this?" Dooku growled, crossing his arms and glowering when he was answered with giggles from the infatuated pair.

"We've had so little time together as of late, you're just going to have to deal with it," Kenobi muttered, delighting in the agitated groan of the other man and grinning broadly when the Count rushed out of the elevator the second the doors slid open. Dooku had shed his role as a Jedi far later than Kenobi had. Old reservations died very hard.

"I feel him moving sometimes," Satine said softly, intertwining her fingers with Obi-Wan's as they strolled out of the elevator to the large holotable, Kenobi tapping in the proper channel on the instrument and waiting as the call to Sidious went through, the table spinning as it descended into the floor, locking into the full room projector below. "And many of my guests asked who the father was." She smirked. " _Indirectly_ , of course, but the question will be far more direct in the future. I'm uncertain how best to answer it."

"Do you have to?"

She nodded. "Unless we want a scandal, than yes. And my people want to know." She kissed his cheek as a faint blue light filled the room as the holotransmitter scanned them and connected to the device on the other end of the transmission. "I think it's a political opportunity we cannot afford to miss, and I need to know how best to use it for our purposes."

"Oh, you _are_ the perfect woman..." Kenobi drawled, running a long finger down her jaw line, and not looking away from her as he knelt, bringing her down with him when Sidious' image appeared. The Sith Master didn't seem irritated, or surprised, just vaguely amused, and Kenobi could feel his questioning probe in his mind. So could Satine, and whether it was her or the baby reacting to the intrusion, Obi-Wan didn't know, but the Dark Side lashed out against Sidious, and with a deep, raspy chuckle, his presence was removed.

"Kait nyovas m'tye zenoti?" Sidious asked, and Kenobi bowed his head. _How much does she know_?

"Viskas m'tye adata zenoti, Sith'ari." _Everything she must, Master_.

"Mand'alor Satine," the Master said softly, his cowl drawn and his hands clasped firmly before him. "At last we meet. I have seen that you have been a great asset to me."

A clever smirk on her face, the Duchess looked up at the imposing man, proud and devoid of fear, and Obi-Wan felt his chest swell with pride. She was fit to be Empress of this galaxy. The Sith would be stronger for it. "I do as I can to serve the Sith, my Lord."

Sidious nodded his approval. "Does the child give you trouble?" Satine shook her head.

"At first. He is strong and fierce, but the Force calms him. Lord Lumis has been helpful in tending to him." She looked away, lips pursed as if trying to think if asking what was on her mind was wise, than turned her eyes back on Sidious. "Will I get to keep any future children I may have?" Kenobi looked at her from the corner of his eye, nervous for her safety, but Sidious chuckled softly.

"For the most part. Lumis will need his own Lords to train, and if you are going to be a Queen beside him, it's fitting that you have children strong enough to continue the Sith legacy. Loyal service to the Sith is rewarded, and you _have_ served me." He scoffed. "I assume you have been servicing Lumis as well."

An impish grin graced the Duchess' lips. "I try my best. Questions about the father have come up, and I feel it may be advantageous politically on how that is handled." Sidious drew back as if surprised, his hand coming to grip his chin as he thought. There was silence for a long while before the Sith Master folded his hands into the sleeves of his robe.

"You may be right. I shall think on how best to approach it to suit my needs. How will this effect Mandalore?"

"It won't. My people stand behind me."

Sidious nodded, a cunning smile on his lips as he turned his attention to the Sith Lords. "Is the plan in motion?"

"Yes, Master," Dooku said in his deep, pleasing voice. "The Shadowfeed has been integrated into the holonet. All I must do is contact my servants on Murkhana to activate the transmission and it is done."

Sidious nodded, shifting his gaze to the other Lord. "And you?"

"All is ready, Master. All I need is for the Council to be in session."

"They are currently in talks with Admiral Tarkin on the matter of their rogue Padawan." When Obi-Wan bowed his head, Sidious grinned deviously. "We reach the final stage of our war, my students. Begin when you are ready."

* * *

" _Execution_?!" Luminara gasped, her blue eyes wide and staring in disbelief at the hologram of the Admiral, and Tarkin raised his hands in a placating gesture.

"I said it was on the table, Master Jedi," he droned. "The court has yet to decide the matter. As with many things within the Republic, the trial is taking some time to come to a satisfying conclusion."

"Will you argue against execution, Tarkin?" Anakin asked, standing beside Qui-Gon as the older man listened to the meeting. He hadn't said anything this time, and Anakin was fairly certain that the Master was asleep. The Admiral looked appalled for a moment, than sighed, rubbing his temple with his long fingers.

"I have no say in the courts, General, but I will speak to Chancellor Palpatine on your behalf, if you wish it."

"If it's going to the Chancellor, I'll speak to him myself," Anakin said, rolling his eyes. "I want _you_ to fight for us."

Tarkin sputtered for a moment before he regain his composure and curtly said, "You are too soft on traitors, General Skywalker. What have we discussed about being soft?"

Anakin snapped and pointed at the hologram, a sly grin on his face. " _Never_ with a girl in your bed!" Quinlan immediately doubled over in raucous laughter, the other Masters glaring at him or hiding their own chortling behind their hands.

"I suppose men are simply men," the Admiral groaned. "Even among the Jedi. I support the execution of traitors, General, if for nothing else, to serve as an example to others who would do the same. But," he sighed, "I suppose I can be convinced otherwise if-" The hologram suddenly scrambled, flickering back to the image of the Admiral for a moment before it jumped to static. Even the restful Qui-Gon sat up in his seat. It was _highly_ unusual to have connection problems between the military complexes and the Jedi Temple. Something was wrong. They all could feel it. The hologram flickered back to life, and Admiral Tarkin looked... _nervous_. Almost panicked, and for a man that was nearly always calm and composed, the change was jarring.

"Tarkin, what's going on?" Anakin demanded, and the Admiral quickly looked back to the Jedi he served.

"Can you hear me?" he asked swiftly, voice tight with tension, and Skywalker nodded. "You all stay there, I will be there as soon as I can. Something's wrong with the holonet, all our communications are being interru-" The signal faded again, the hologram flickering as the image scrambled, pulsing quickly as the image reformed, and the Council sat motionless and stared in fear at the new image being projected into the center of the room.

 _Obi-Wan Kenobi_.

He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly as he looked around the room, observing each Master in turn and stopped when he faced Yoda and Mace Windu, the tiny Master's ears high and alert, and Mace looking as though he were ready to leap out of his seat. Kenobi smiled wickedly. "Hello, _Masters_."

"That's a live feed, cut the transmission!" Mace commanded, and Anakin rushed to the holotransmitter controls to switch it off, but the image remained.

"Don't bother trying that," Kenobi drawled lazily. "I have assumed complete control. You _could_ cut the power grid, but if I remember correctly..." He whistled and pointed down toward the ground. "Those controls are _far_ beneath us, and I _think_ you'll find your elevator isn't working." Kenobi grinned. " _What_ a coincidence!"

"What do you want, Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon asked softly, and Kenobi turned to look at him, smirking when he felt the panic coming from the room.

"I upgraded my holotable to a holoroom!" he chirped, arms out and spinning in a circle. "I wanted to test it out, and what better way to do it than by looking at all of you!" A wicked grin passed over his face as darkness swirled around him, so strong that the Jedi could feel it. "It has been _so_ long since I stood here before the Masters. There are _so few_ of you left..."

"And who's fault is that?!" Mace snarled, rising from his seat and fists balled by his sides.

"Mace," Qui-Gon quietly warned. "Don't engage him. He has no power here."

"There's so much anger, so much fear here," Kenobi said softly, looking about the room, but not at the Jedi that sat in attendance, eyes distant as he focused on something so very far away, a young, naive Jedi that had so long ago trusted the Council and was met with betrayal. He smiled sadly, focusing again on Mace, the Master's face contorted in rage. That Jedi had died long ago, killed by the Sith that now stood in his place.

" _All_ of it was caused by _you_ , Kenobi," Mace growled, ignoring Qui-Gon's advice and throwing himself back into his seat, and the Sith close his eyes and breathed deeply.

"Oh, Mace, you have danced so close to the Dark Side for so long...did you really believe you could remain untouched by it? Did you _really_ think you could leave it behind on the battlefield? You _reek_ of darkness, Master Windu, how long do you think it will be before your temper refuses to let you go?"

" _Shut up_!"

"How long before your rage consumes you and you _murder_ someone for it?" Yoda's hand swiftly reached out and grabbed Mace's arm, the raging Jedi trembling in anger, but he remained silent, his strong hands clutching the hem of the cloak so tightly the corse fabric began to tear, and Kenobi grinned. "Yoda won't be there to save you from yourself every time, Mace."

Before the angry Master could respond, Qui-Gon softly asked, "Why are you here, Obi-Wan? The real reason, if you please."

Kenobi was silent for a moment, carefully looking over his stoic former Master, the nervous, strained Luminara on his left, the frantic, hopeful Quinlan on his right, and his eyes narrowed dangerously when he saw Anakin Skywalker standing behind Qui-Gon, his young face cold, serious, but terribly curious as well. "Two reasons," Kenobi said softly, almost kindly. "I had heard about what happened with Luminara's Padawan." He looked at the Mirialan, and the woman's face became cold and unfeeling, as it always did when she was hiding. "Truly, I am sorry for what has happened to you, my friend," he said genuinely, and Luminara shivered. "I've no doubt you did everything right with her. Her fall was no more your fault than Dooku's fall was Yoda's."

"You did this..." she whispered, shaking her head, and Kenobi smiled sadly at her. It was genuine, and the Mirialan could feel it, and knew right away that she wasn't correct, that she was simply struggling for meaning where none existed.

"I wouldn't do that to you, Luminara," he said gently. "Just as I didn't harm Quinlan's Padawan on Florrum." His eyes narrowed in anger. "Even though the little bitch stabbed me in the back..." Kenobi took a deep breath, suppressing the rising anger he felt. He hadn't hurt Ahsoka Tano _yet_. When Quinlan fell, the girl would no longer be safe. He hadn't forgotten about his vision, and the Togruta female that continued to plague his visions. "Despite our differences, you are...my friend."

" _Don't listen_ , Luminara!" Mace snapped. "He's trying to mislead you, this is how he will break the Jedi apart! His words are _poisonous_!"

"He only has the power that we give him, Mace," Qui-Gon gently reprimanded. "All of you remember that."

"It's cute that you believe that, Qui-Gon," Kenobi said, his voice relaxed and amused and so very easy to listen to, and he looked again at Luminara. "The holonet has covered her trial quite extensively, and I hear they may put her to death. But you could save her," he whispered, and the Mirialan found herself leaning forward to listen. "Give her to me. I'll take care of her."

She recoiled, her green face frozen in an expression of horror. "You would have me give my student to you so you could lead her into further darkness! I'd rather her be executed!"

Kenobi laid his hand on his chest in mock hurt. "You _wound_ me. Aren't the Jedi supposed to hold all life sacred?"

"T-this isn't our decision!"

"But it _could_ be," the Sith hissed, taking a step toward her. "Don't decide now. _Think_ about it. I imagine you have some time before her sentencing, but I'd act quickly. The Force will take her when its ready, but the Dark Side would _embrace_ her, as she has embraced _it._ "

"Your second reason for being here, Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon said quickly, reaching over and grabbing the Mirialan's hand, intertwining their fingers, and Kenobi looked them over curiously.

"Taken a lover, Qui-Gon?" the Sith Lord asked, a sly smirk on his face that was met with indifference from the Master.

"Your reason, Obi-Wan." Kenobi frowned. The Jedi Master had been correct when he said he had only the power allowed to him, and Qui-Gon Jinn was allowing him _nothing_. He raised his hand and pointed behind the old Master.

"I've come for _you,_ Skywalker."

"...m-me?" Anakin stuttered, looking at Qui-Gon for guidance, and when the Master gave him a short nod, Skywalker drew up tall, took a deep breath, and walked out into the middle of the room to stand before Obi-Wan Kenobi. They were silent for a long while, each observing the other and taking in every single detail, and even from the distance between them, Anakin could feel the Sith's anger and hatred, the Dark Side converging on him like he was the eye of a storm.

"This meeting has been a long time coming," Kenobi said in barely a whisper. "Beyond trading insults, I do not believe we have _ever_ actually spoken."

"You are fifteen years my senior," Anakin said, the emotion cleared from his voice. He would follow Qui-Gon's example. This Sith had no power here. "How is it you look to be of age with me?"

"The Dark Side does _wonders_ for your complexion, if you have the talent," Kenobi said lightly, an easy smirk on his face. "I'd offer to show you, but that isn't going to happen. I'm going to kill you, Skywalker."

"I'm not afraid of you." Anakin said firmly, and the Sith Lord laughed.

"Oh, but you _should be_ ," Kenobi snarled, stepping closer so they were face to face. "Look around you. Your Masters are _broken_ , and there are so few of them now. Eight sit where twelve were." He held up his hand, fingers extended, and pointed to each one. "Eeth Koth. Adi Gallia. Even Piell. Shaak Ti." He grinned when Anakin sucked in a sharp breath and held it. "And those are just the dead. I've bested nearly the rest, and it was only by the will of the Force that they got away from me." He looked over his shoulder and his eyes fell on Depa Billaba, the woman's dark eyes narrowed in focus as she looked at the Sith who had destroyed her. "Don't think I didn't see _you_ , Master Billaba. I'm surprised you recovered. Next time, I won't be so gentle."

Anakin snapped, a loud thing that echoed in the room, and the Sith's attention quickly returned to him, his anger flaring dangerously. "Focus, Lumis. Your business is with me, not her."

"So it is..." the Sith whispered, eyeing the Jedi Knight once again. "The Force made me in response to you. You and I, Skywalker, stand in the eyes of the Force. We were destined to collide, surely you must have felt it as I have."

Anakin nodded. "You started with me, Sith Lord, and I'll make sure you end with me." Kenobi laughed harshly.

"Bold claim from one who cannot feel the tide of the Force."

"Bold claim from one who is pulled under by the current and drowning." Anakin drew up to his full height and looked down on Kenobi. "I've seen it in dreams. You and me engaged in endless battle, and it's a fight that I won't lose. I'm coming for you, Obi-Wan. For the sake of all the Jedi you have hurt, I will put an end to your evil."

Kenobi smiled at the impetuous youth. "Come and get me, Skywalker. I'll be waiting."

"Saesee Tiin," Anakin said softly, and Obi-Wan looked at him in confusion. "Jedi Master Saesee Tiin. You didn't count him among your dead."

A cruel smile came to Kenobi's face, and Anakin shivered when he looked at it, could see the savage pleasure that this Jedi Killer took from the suffering around him. "Oh, didn't I?" he asked innocently, and without another word, Kenobi turned from Skywalker, the hologram flickering as it faded from sight, leaving the Council silent and shaken, the skyline of Coruscant in the windows behind them burning red with the setting sun.


	78. Lovers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something a little shorter and lighter before I launch into the next two freaking enormous chapters, so expect a day or two between them, since they're going to be an absolute bitch to write. Enjoy. 'Tis a bit fluffy, but you'll be thanking me.
> 
> ALSO! My most perfect of lovelies lucife56 has drawn me KRIFFING GORGEOUS FANART. This is an honest to goodness artist here, guys, and not only is the bit drawn for me lovely beyond compare, but ALL the work over there is stunning. I strongly urge you to take a look. Are there links here? Can I do links?
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/8851612
> 
> Did it work? Hold on, let me check.
> 
> No, but it should be linked at the bottom. Also, its on my dashboard, and its soon to be my thumbnail, so knock yourselves out, kids.

Anakin lay in Padmé's bed, the Senator curled up next to him and laying slow, languid kisses on his chest. There was no sense in denying that he loved her, no sense in observing reserve or caution, not anymore. Not when they had been together for so long. Anakin pulled her closer, breathed in deeply the floral scent in her hair, quietly delighted in the feel of her warm skin against his. They hadn't actually been together long. Since the start of the war over two years ago, when they began this whole affair, there had been...complications involving a certain handsome, sophisticated Sith Lord, a stark comparison to the brash, boyish charm Anakin brought to the table, but keeping far, far away from the Negotiator helped bring the young Senator to her senses. The war had kept them apart, her with trying to bring an end to it through the Senate, and he doing the same thing, but out on the field of battle. Moments they got to share with each other were few and far between, but they took advantage of it when they did find the time.

Anakin was better for her. Their relationship was built on trust, a young friendship made deeper through shared conflict and hardship. Her attraction to Obi-Wan may have started that way, but it was no secret that it had quickly evolved into carnal lust for the man, a fact that Kenobi had wasted no time preying on. Absence from the Sith largely rectified the situation, but though Anakin knew Padmé loved him, there were time he wondered, in their long periods apart, if it was him the Senator was thinking of, or the handsome Sith she once lusted for.

He knew, of course, that it was thoughts like these that led to the Dark Side, and he would freely talk to Qui-Gon about his fears when they arose. After all, it was jealousy that drove Kenobi to the Sith, and both Anakin and Qui-Gon had guarded against it by communicating about everything, especially that which might meet with Council disapproval. Qui-Gon had learned from his mistakes with Obi-Wan. He wasn't going to allow another student to fall because of small, petty fears caused by jealousy, and discussing his troubles had helped keep Anakin grounded and focused. After all, Jedi in the Old Republic were allowed to have lovers and families. Anakin couldn't see why he shouldn't have one as well, so long as he was careful not to let his emotions rule him. His late start made this difficult, but because it was such an obvious weakness, they had taken care to focus their efforts on correcting it.

"Do you have to go?" she muttered against his chest, and with a sigh, Skywalker turned to face her, a smile on his lips.

"Yeah, I do. That Sith isn't going to stop on his own, and this is what the Jedi have been training me to do. Everyone knew I'd have to go after Kenobi eventually, it was just a matter of when, and now..." Anakin sighed and slowly ran a hand down her side, stopping when he got to the gentle curve of her hip. "His attack on the holonet has raised the stakes. We can't ignore him anymore."

And it was chaos. For two weeks, the Separatist Shadowfeed ran like a virus through the holonet, causing confusion and panic throughout the Republic as false information was spread without restraint, leaving a fearful public to stage violent protests against the war across connected Republic worlds. It became a top priority to correct, and the mechanically inclined Skywalker and his brutal second in command, Tarkin, were dispatched to deal with the situation. The destruction of several holonet relays that had been identified as the distributors of the virus had broken the Separatist link into the system, but Tarkin had insisted that until the source of the Shadowfeed on Murkhana was destroyed, the Confederacy could do it again.

The Chancellor had agreed, but Murkhana was a dangerous target deep in Confederate space, and attacking it simply wasn't plausible while fighting on so many fronts. Murkhana was just going to have to wait, and in the meantime, the holonet would be reenforced with additional security measures to make hacking it far more difficult, and it had been formidable before. New security protocols made it nearly impenetrable, and with the holonet crisis contained, Anakin was free to turn his attention to the real threat.

"He said he'd kill you," Padmé whimpered, and Anakin leaned over and kissed her cheek, but the woman was still worried. "He's goading you, you must see that. This has to be some kind of trap, Anakin, don't play into his hand."

"He hasn't left us with much of a choice, Padmé," Anakin said, turning onto his back and smiling gently as the woman slid on top of him, her hands crossed on his chest and her chin resting on top of them. "The longer we wait, the more he rips the Jedi apart, and I'm not going to wait for him to come to us anymore. We need to take a more aggressive stance with the Sith, I've said so from the beginning, but now the Council finally agrees."

"And you think you can beat him?" she asked, her brown eyes big and expressive and worried, and Anakin felt his heart ache. He wanted to stay with her, but the battle against the Sith was a fight for the safety of everyone, Padmé included.

"Master Yoda seems to think so." He took a deep breath and absently stroked her hair. "I...felt him in the Council chamber that day. Even without being in the room, the Force was drawn to his presence. There was so much anger and fear in the Council that day, and maybe that's why, but Yoda and Qui-Gon are right. He's become a vergence in the Force."

"Like you?"

"...yes."

Padmé was not comforted, and she was not shy about showing it. "So the Jedi are sending you on an obviously dangerous mission against a man that has killed and maimed the best in the Order, and they expect you to beat him?"

"It's not like I'll be alone!" Anakin said defensively. "I'll have the 501st and Tarkin, and Master Ki-Adi-Mundi is coming with me."

Padmé was not impressed. "Kenobi has an army too."

"Yeah, well, Kenobi hasn't fought my troops before. And Master Mundi is considered the best swordsman in the Order!"

"They said that about Master Windu, and he almost died."

"W-well, yes, but..." Skywalker huffed in frustration. "Look, Padmé, we have really good reason to believe that Master Saesee Tiin is alive and in Sith hands, and if there's even a chance of that, we need to look for him."

"That is a terrible idea."

"You sound like Tarkin."

"Well, maybe he's right." Padmé sat up, her small hands on his chest and straddling his hips, and Anakin's hands reflexively slid to rest on her waist. She was making this conversation very difficult to focus on. "Remember what happened the last time you saved a Jedi from him? He had been broken and brainwashed and was working as an agent of the Sith."

"I do remember that, Padmé..." he sighed. "But we can't just give up on him. If he's turned on us, I'll do what I must, but if not..." Skywalker ran a hand through his hair and looked away from her for a moment. "Obi-Wan is using him as bait, I'm sure of it. If we find Master Tiin, we'll find Kenobi. I'm sure of it."

"...you're trying to catch him in his own trap." Anakin nodded, and the Senator smiled softly. "It's risky. Do you think you can pull it off?"

"I'm not sure. It might be that we won't find Master Tiin, in which case, we fall back on my default plan. Find his ships and hit him where it hurts."

"You should have more support," Padmé insisted, and Anakin groaned.

"We can't have more support, we're spread thin as it is. We can't bring any Jedi that's faced him before because they will die, Yoda needs to stay in the Temple to coordinate the war effort, and the rest of us are scattered all across the galaxy. If we can stop worrying about Kenobi, we should be able to have a more united front, and it sounds like the Council is finally going to give Vos permission to go after Dooku. The Sith are the problem, and the Jedi are finally ready to attack. We destroyed them once, and we can do it again."

"This all sounds very dangerous..." Padmé whispered, running her hands down Anakin's chest and eliciting a groan from the young man.

"It is..." Anakin admitted. "But we aren't without our advantages. Tarkin spent his childhood hunting predators, and he says that since we have identified a possible trap, we can use it to our advantage. And the Force may be with Kenobi in some weird way, but it's with me too. There isn't a stronger ally."

Slowly, she nodded and laid back down on the Jedi, kissing him softly, which he returned with a hungry passion, and she gasped as he flipped her over and settled above her. "Promise me you'll come back," she whimpered, hands clasping behind her Jedi's neck. "I don't want this to be our last night together."

"I promise," Anakin whispered, leaning down to kiss the woman's neck and smiling against the warmth of her skin as she squirmed beneath him. "Nothing will keep me from you."

* * *

 

Obi-Wan lay with Satine's back pressed against him, holding her closely, possessively, his hand resting on the swell of her stomach where their son lay within her. He couldn't sleep. The Force wouldn't allow it. The visions were relentless, and every attempt to tune them out was met with images more violent than the next. Everything was in flames. Everything. The recurring visions he had before, once calm and easy, now burned with flames so hot, so strong, that he could barely see what they were. Even the already burning face was on fire, more fire than there had been previously, which Kenobi would have found funny if he weren't filled with such...disquiet. The Force was disturbed, though it had no reason to be, and the visions were all so unclear through the smoke and flames. If he didn't know what many of them were, they would have been completely clouded, even to him. Him! His visions had always been so clear, so why now? What was the Force trying to tell him?

Everything had been made ready, every detail planned down to every possible scenario. If he played his cards right, in the morning, he would be off to face Anakin Skywalker, a confrontation long in the making. Sidious had made certain to tell him that the Jedi would be departing. Sidious had been telling him lots of things. With the Shadowfeed infecting the holonet, it had been an easy thing for his Master to make contact with his apprentices, and while it had, at first, made both Lumis and Tyranus uneasy, they quickly found their Master to be...far more amicable than anticipated. The plan was nearing its conclusion, and the apprentices had done well. Sidious was...pleased, to their immense relief, contacting them not with directives, but with updates. Which was also new.

And Satine...

He drew her closer, felt the lazy calm of the darkness within her shift, then grow still once again. Just over five months put them over halfway through the process, the beginning of his line of Sith Lords, the future rulers of the galaxy. A great deal of the past two weeks had been spent together, the days occupied by the rapid expansion of the Mandalorian territory as a result of the chaos inspired by the holonet crisis, and the nights spent plotting how best to move their political pieces into play for the betterment of the Sith Empire in between their heedless passions. Kenobi imagined that the Empire would be a great deal like this, the calm and peace of darkness bringing the galaxy order and purpose. The war just needed to end, and he and his Queen would rule it all.

Obi-Wan gently kissed the back of her neck, and she stirred, looked over her shoulder, a tired smile on her lips. "Can't sleep?" she asked, and the Sith pulled her closer, growling as he nipped at the crook of her neck.

"No...did I wake you?" The Duchess shook her head.

"No, I can feel our son move. The doctors say he can hear us now."

"Oh?" Kenobi smirked, sending a gently wave of the Force through the hand on her stomach, and he could feel the Dark Side swell in response, reaching out and touching his father's presence, and both Satine and Obi-Wan shivered. "Has my little Sith Spawn been learning how to be a proper Lord of the Sith already, hmm?"

"We need to name him."

"We need to do a great many things," he groaned, his breath catching in his throat as the woman's hips slowly rolled against his, and he grasped her closer to him. The majority of her sickness had passed, and whatever it was that the Dark Side, their son, and her own biology was doing to her, it was making her insatiable. He was a Sith Lord, a creature born from raw, unrestrained passion, and she was driving him to the brink of exhaustion for the past two weeks. Fighting against the Jedi was less tiring than trying to satisfy the Mand'alor's lust. That child was a vicious beast if it would do such to his own mother, though, admittedly, it could have been of Satine's own making.

"You are leaving in the morning?" she asked softly, and the Sith responded by nodding against her back. "Will you be long?"

"I can't imagine it will take long to lure him to the ship, no." He grasped her hip to hold her still and could feel her back shake through stifled laughter. "Killing him may take some time, depending on how stupid he decides to be."

"Are many going to die?"

"Mm, that depends on how many he decides to bring onto the ship. If he's smart, he'll bring an infiltration team. A smaller force is harder to kill." She reached a hand up behind her to stroke at his neck.

"Are you in any danger?" Kenobi chuckled and shook his head.

"Not a great amount, no."

"You were stabbed last time," she said sternly, a chill in her voice that carried the warning of the Dark Side, and Obi-Wan inclined his head to kiss her shoulder.

"As you say, Mand'alor. I will be cautious. You are wise to remind me to be humble."

Satine scoffed, her dismissive tone giving way to an undercurrent of amusement. "Is that how you speak to your Master?"

"Only when I want something. And speaking of which..." The Duchess groaned and pressed back hard against him, his sharp intake of breath disrupting his train of thought as his fingers dug into her hip too late to keep her from easily stirring his passions, the languid Dark Side rolling to life when the Mand'alor summoned it.

"So..." she asked coyly, pressing herself flush against his chest and slowly rolled her hips back against him. "What is it you wanted, my Emperor?"

"Always you, my love." Obi-Wan gently nipped at her ear and wrapped an arm around her waist, and chuckled softly when the woman hissed in irritation when she found herself held still. "Sidious asked about you again today."

Satine laughed at that, relaxing in his arms as the frustration faded, eased by the gentle touch of the Force in her lover's hands. "I think your Master is in love, Obi-Wan."

"I'm inclined to agree. He talks about you a great deal. You made quite an impression on him." The woman scoffed.

"And you expected him to be angry with you for bringing me." She wriggled in his loosened grip and turned to face him, planting a swift kiss on her lips as she smiled. "I told you, Obi-Wan, he wouldn't want to continue communicating with me through you when I have become so powerful without him. That isn't an asset, that's a liability."

"As I said, my Queen, you were right. I misjudged him." He frowned, golden eyes glowing in the dim lighting as he studied every detail of her face. "Which I don't understand. I've known him for ten years, and you just met him."

"I rule thousands of systems, my dear, and he is a man like any other that craves power. He and I want the same things, so understanding what he needs to do to get that is simple."

Kenobi groaned. "Never in my life would I have thought you'd find a kindred spirit in Darth Sidious." He kissed her swiftly. "Is that how you enthralled Dooku?"

Satine laughed and hit his chest playfully as she sat up in the bed and kicked the sheets off of her, her pale skin almost seeming to glow under the light of Concordia. "No, he's just interested in our son. He's quite invested in you, you know. I don't know what you did, but the animosity between you is gone. It's almost like he respects you." She smiled down at him. "Almost."

"How sweet," Kenobi drawled, beginning to sit up until Satine's hand raid on his chest and urged him back down, and he easily complied, relaxing underneath her touch as she stroked the scars that ran across his body. "It's like we're all a big, happy Sith family. You, me, cranky grandpa, and the weird uncle we're going to kill because he wants to take our son from us."

"Why does everything sound worse than it is when you say it?"

"...was that worse?" She leaned over and kissed him, her hand traveling down the length of his body before it stopped suddenly, and she pulled away from him, feeling the long, raised ridge of a thick scar across his abdomin.

"What is that," Satine asked forcefully, and Obi-Wan winced. He was looking forward to the end of her mood swings.

"Yoda and I were playing, that's all." Her stoic stare said in no uncertain terms that she was not amused. "It was a mistake, he felt terrible!"

"Armor up for everything," she growled, bringing her hand down upon the wound with a stinging slap, and the Sith hissed in pain, a hand shooting up reflexively to grab her chin, and she looked at him with cool indifference. She had nothing to fear from the Dark Side, and the Sith Lord knew it. "Besides," she said softly, stroking his beard as she lay back down next to him, "I think you look terribly good in it." That settled it for Obi-Wan. He was wearing it all the time. "Have you found Maul yet?"

Obi-Wan tensed, his grip on the woman tightening. It was...a persistent problem. Maul and his brother Savage had disappeared without a trace. Even Hondo's extremely well-connected network heard nothing, and it did not bode well at all. He had felt...something, deep and persistent and endlessly pulling at him, but he couldn't place the origin of it. Between the work of the Sith, the work of the Separatists, the bidding of his lover, and his own training and studies, Kenobi was pulled extremely thin. A divided focus may have been the cause of his clouded sight, but every time he sat deep in meditation and cleared his mind of all except Maul, flames were all he saw, obscuring a vision that he had never seen in a blaze of smoke and fire.

It all came back to this. The Force, his steadfast ally, his companion in all things, was being secretive. It was true that visions were often vague, their meanings unclear, but they had always been a friend to Kenobi. Now, it was being needlessly cryptic, answering his questions with fire instead of truth, and he couldn't help but wonder if he had misstepped, done something to anger the Force, to turn it against him. He didn't feel out of favor. The Force was strong with him, as it had always been since his turn from the light, and he had always acted in accordance to its wishes. Certainly if he had done something to make it bite back at him, he would have known, so why.

"Not yet..." Obi-Wan suddenly felt nervous, his arm wrapping around his lover and pulling her close, his long fingers running through her pale blond hair. "But I will. After I kill Skywalker, I'll redouble my efforts."

"You've been redoubling your efforts every day since he escaped you, how much harder can you be looking?"

"I don't know. My Master has been searching as well, but he feels nothing either, and that in itself is troubling. By all accounts, we should be feeling something. The Dark Side wouldn't protect that Sith pretender."

Satine leaned up and kissed his neck, frowning when the man didn't relax at all. "Do you have any leads at all?" she asked, sliding a leg over his hips to straddle him and began kneading the tense muscles of his chest and shoulders.

"Only his behavior from before. Hondo's captain said that Maul called himself a crime lord and offered to pay him for his service, provided that they pledged their loyalty to him. Given that they are being hunted by everyone, I don't think he has any other option."

"You believe he is cornered?"

"Yes, and cornered animals fight back."

Satine frowned, her fingers slowing their ministrations on the hard muscle of her lover's body as she bit her lip and thought. "If he's looking to build a crime empire, we can go after the crime syndicates. It's on my list of things to do anyway." Obi-Wan laughed, and Satine smiled as the man slowly began to relax, and she leaned down to kiss his chest as her hands redoubled their efforts to soothe the tension out of him.

"You would take on all the organized crime in the galaxy, my dear? How? They've grown extremely powerful during the course of the war, attacking them would be going to war yourself."

"Well..." she drawled, her hands drifting lower as the tension left the Sith Lord. "You got them to leave Mandalore."

"Making them afraid to come close and eradicating them are very different, Satine. They still fear us. Since Maul's escape, we have been keeping a close eye on the crime syndicates, and they still go running when we come. They may do the same for Maul, he looks Sith."

"You think he'd join one of them?"

"Joining anything doesn't seem like him, but it's possible." He shrugged, moaning softly as the woman rubbed the tight skin between the sharp, high crests of his hips. "That, or he'd create his own syndicate, but again, we've heard nothing."

"I'll get Bo-Katan on it. She's worse than you when it comes to being stubborn." She leaned down and bit his ear, the Sith hissing sharply as his hands tightly grabbed her hips and slowly slid down the length of her thigh. She was right, of course. Bo-Katan was all Mandalorian and all relentless determination with two blasters that wasn't afraid to shoot anyone in the face. It was truly a frightening thing, and she had already claimed rights on teaching her nephew how to shoot.

"I love you." He hadn't even meant to say it, but a sharp pull in his chest, the soft caressing hands of the Mand'alor had drawn it from him, and she took it with the grace of a woman who knew the truth of the statement, had heard it thousands of times, but still never tired of it.

"Let's see if you still say that in ten more years." Kenobi reached up to stroke her cheek with the back of his hand.

"Forever." And he meant it. They had been together for ten years, had loved each other for twenty, and despite the initial struggle of their conflicting ideals, they had risen above it and set themselves up to rule the galaxy. Together. The war and the Jedi and Maul could wait until morning. Until then, it would just be the two of them. Tomorrow would hopefully bring the death of Anakin Skywalker, and as Kenobi closed his eyes and surrendered to the passion that his lover ignited in him, all he could see was the vision of flames as a sense of dread gripped him. With a groan, he pushed it away as he and Satine became one. It could all wait until morning.


	79. Skywalker

The _Skywalker_ hung lifeless in the sky over Conus, a volcanic rock of a planet in the Geonosis system which remained primarily uninhabited, save for the miners that controlled the droids boring deep into the mineral rich rock. Geonisis remained in Republic control since Anakin's assault on the droid foundries, though it was a tentative control at best. The native Geonisians, deprived of their leader Poggle the Lesser, still imprisoned on Coruscant, and the Queen that controlled their hive mind, killed during Anakin's bombing of the planet, quickly devolved into vicious infighting that left them incapable of organizing a defensive against the occupying Republic troops. The clones, for the most part, left the creatures alone, as they scurried away in fear at the sight of the invasion force, and aside from occasional skirmishes between them, the Geonosians were proving to be harmless.

When the Star Destroyer had drifted into the system, the troops had thought it odd for a capital ship to simply _drift_ , and when they contacted the ship, they got no response at all. When they lost contact with the investigation team they sent, the clones quickly brought the matter to the highest authority the could, and _they_ brought the matter to General Skywalker. He was hunting Obi-Wan Kenobi, and one of the Sith Lord's ships had been found.

They had ordered space around Conus to be cleared in the event that the ship was rigged to explode, as the powerful blasts from the destruction of the Class 1.0 hyperdrive and the reactor core could potentially destroy any ship that was near. Anakin had the _Vigilance_ brought to the other side of Conus, and loaded up his team onto one of the shuttles in the bay and began a slow, cautious journey toward the _Skywalker_. The ship had Anakin seething in cold anger, which he knew must have been Kenobi's intent, but he couldn't help it. The Sith Lord was taunting him, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Anakin gripped the yoke tighter. Nothing he could do but put an end to the man's evil. It would happen today. It had to. He could feel it in the Force. Something was stirring, something dark and sinister and fast approaching, and if he didn't act now, it would soon be upon them, and it couldn't be stopped. He didn't know what it was, but he knew it involved Obi-Wan. The man had to end _today_ , and could feel in the Force that such would come to pass. By days end, Obi-Wan Kenobi would be dead, so...why did he feel such fear about it?

"What is he playing at..." Tarkin mumbled beside him, and Anakin's attention snapped back to the present. Qui-Gon was always telling him to be mindful of the present, and the advice had served him well in the past.

"I don't know. Rex, are you picking up any life signs on board?"

"Yes, sir. But not many. Scans are showing less than a hundred." Anakin frowned.

"How much less?"

The clone shrugged. "It's difficult to say, sir. The reading isn't clear. Something inside is disrupting our sensors." Anakin's jaw clenched as he grinded his teeth together. It was Kenobi, it had to be. The ship was _dead_ , no power running through it at all, so it couldn't have been an electronic jamming signal.

"General," Tarkin said swiftly, his hand to the earpiece he had lodged in his ear, "General Koon is reporting sightings of the _Negotiator_ and the _Liberator_ in the Atravis Sector."

"Atravis?" Anakin asked, puzzled. "What the hell's in Atravis?"

"An awful lot of Separatists worlds, and the planet Rutan, where we are currently engaged with the Separatist forces." Anakin bit his lip. Would Kenobi leave his troops to battle without him? There was no way the _Skywalker_ wasn't a trap for the man it was named after, but if Kenobi wasn't even here, than the trap became _much_ more dangerous. "For our purposes, that means your Sith won't be receiving support quickly."

"If he's even here..." Anakin muttered, and the Admiral shot him a stern glance.

"He's here, General. I don't need the Force to know that. A hunter wouldn't leave his trap unattended when his target is close."

Skywalker knew he was right. Closing his eyes, he reached out through the Force and felt the clever mind of his Admiral quickly devising a plan of attack, Rex's easy confidence in his commanding officers, the calm peace of Ki-Adi-Mundi as he sat deep in meditation among the thirty clones they had brought with them, the soldiers a mix of anxious and excited. Across space to the looming might of the _Skywalker_ , he could feel the life forms that Rex reported, though not well, and something else. Something alone and bright in the Force, though the light was dimmed by the presence of the Dark Side that swirled around the ship. It was a _Jedi_.

"Saesee Tiin is on board," Anakin said swiftly. "I can feel his presence."

"Then we know what manner of trap this is," Tarkin said swiftly. "Can you discern his location?"

Anakin shook his head. "No, I can just sense his presence. I'll be able to find him when I'm onboard, but the Force isn't _radar_."

"Can you sense the Lost Legion?" Rex asked, and Anakin's eyes narrowed in concentration.

"I don't know. I can sense living things on the ship, but I can't tell what they are."

Tarkin laughed softly to himself and, in a voice tight with amusement, said, "I bet _Kenobi_ would be able to tell us _everything_ we need to know."

Anakin glowered, his face reddening in anger. " _Shut up, Tarkin_!"

"General Koon reports the Lost Legion on the ground on Rutan, Commander," the Admiral said, addressing the clone, who frowned in irritation.

" _All_ of it?" Rex asked, and Tarkin frowned as he looked out the forward viewport at _Skywalker_.

"I doubt it..." he said softly, his finger tapping on the control console. "Don't forget that the crew of _this_ vessel was lost as well. We don't know if Kenobi killed them or recruited them."

"We'll be careful," Anakin mumbled as he maneuvered the shuttle in toward the Star Destroyer and slowly brought the transport in to dock with the stolen ship. They stayed in their place, still and hardly breathing, as the shuttle latched on to one of the docking bays, a loud hiss sounding as the airlock tightened and pressurized the hallway they were about to enter. Anakin took a deep breath to center himself as Tarkin and Rex rose to outfit themselves with their weapons and the tools they brought to make the infiltration easier. As ready as he was going to be, Anakin rose and made his way to the back of the transport with the clones and the other Jedi.

"Are you ready?" Master Mundi asked, and Anakin took his lightsaber into his hand.

"As ready as I'll ever be. Master Saesee Tiin is on board."

"I sensed him as well." The Cerean took a deep breath, and Anakin could feel the calm readiness of the Master, and it soothed his nerves. The darkness was all around them, but the didn't seem to feel its touch. Ki-Adi-Mundi was a Master of great renown, and it would take more than the Dark Side and a fallen Jedi to shake him. "Do we have a plan?"

"We do," Tarkin said, stepping forward and turning to address the clones, a holodisc in his hand that displayed the image of a Star Destroyer. "This is the _Skywalker_ , a Venator class Star Destroyer identical in design to the Star Destroyers we have all been serving on since the war began. The ship may be modified, but the layout of essential systems and structures will be a perfect match to the ones we are used to. This is our first and greatest advantage. Kenobi may have made the trap, but we know the terrain."

"What can we expect in there?" Anakin asked, and the Admiral drew up taller.

"From what we have gathered, Obi-Wan Kenobi is extremely intelligent, cunning, ruthless, and a rare talent in both fighting and flying." The clones began muttering nervously, and Tarkin rolled his eyes in irritation. " _But_ , he is also prideful and arrogant. He is good and he knows it, and furthermore, he seems to have it out for _you_ , General Skywalker."

"I noticed that, thanks..." the Jedi mumbled, crossing his arms and glaring at his smirking Admiral.

"Which means he is on the ship. This is personal, and Kenobi has made a point in the past to deal with any Jedi involved himself. Victory for him means the death of us all, and he will accept no less, which means one _very_ important thing." Tarkin closed the holodisc and placed it on one of the restraining chairs. "So long as he's on the ship, he isn't going to destroy it, which is what we were all worried about. But if he leaves this ship, we are all dead. _Do not allow him to leave this ship_ ," Tarkin emphasized, hitting his palm with the edge of his other hand to punctuate each word. "If we fail to keep him aboard, we run back here as fast as we can, and we may be able to escape alive. It's safe to assume that the escape pods have been jettisoned, so we _must_ return here."

"What about Master Tiin?" Mundi asked, and Tarkin's face hardened.

"The rescue of the Jedi is secondary. He is clearly meant to serve as bait, and we should not take it, and considering the last time, it is likely he is working with Kenobi. When your Sith is dead, we can return to rescue him."

Anakin sighed. He didn't like the idea of leaving a Jedi behind. "If we split up-"

" _No_." The answer was final. "We will not sacrifice group integrity. Splitting up will only make us smaller, weaker, easier targets, and we are dealing with an apex predator." He wasn't happy, but Anakin nodded. "Are there any questions?" One clone raised his hand.

"There aren't many life forms on board, but are there droids?"

Rex scoffed. "I hear Kenobi hates clankers as much as we do." The clones laughed quietly among themselves, and Tarkin rubbed his temple.

"Be that as it may, he is a _Separatist_. We should expect a droid presence. Once inside the ship, General Skywalker will lead and General Mundi will bring up the rear. The standard sword and shield maneuver should deal with most threats we are likely to face. Remember this. Kenobi has never been seen fighting alone. We may not see them, but he _will_ have allies. Keep each other covered at all times. Our enemy knows no fear, and neither should we if we are to prevail." Tarkin stepped aside as the Jedi ignited their lightsabers and thrust them into the airlock of the dead ship, and swiftly cut a hole within it. Peering inside, Anakin and Mundi crept down the hall, the clones following as they cut their way into the _Skywalker_.

The ship wasn't just dark, it felt _dead_ , as if it had been long abandoned and left as garbage. Anakin's lightsaber lit the corridors and rooms before them in blue light, but ot only seemed to serve to make the place seem more eerie, the unlit halls darker, the shadows seeming to move as if the ship were cursed or haunted by vengeful spirits. The Dark Side here was _strong_ , stronger than he had ever felt, and while he and Master Mundi were unaffected, the others, despite their lack of sensitivity to the Force, seemed to suffer under the strain of it. They seemed paler, short of breath, groaning against growing headaches, and Anakin could feel them growing more nervous with each step they took. The Dark Side was _too_ strong here. Something awful must have happened within the walls of the ship for it to be as strong as it was, and for a moment, Anakin felt as though they should turn back.

The ship groaned, a long, low creak that echoed down the empty halls and made a shiver run up Anakin's spine. He softly chided himself, stopped for a moment reach through the ship with the Force to search for nearby life forms, but found nothing. It was simply the growl of the ship, the disused metal groaning as it settled, though the more Anakin thought on it, the more he was certain that it wasn't right. It wasn't close, but there was something on the ship, and that something was _big_.

"Three..." Anakin whispered under his breath, but the cold, empty darkness carried the sound of his voice, making the men all stop and raise their weapons, the echo of it fading down the halls like a ghostly whisper. Tarkin looked at him curiously, and even quieter, Anakin said, "Kenobi has three rancors."

"That we know of."

Skywalker nodded. "They're here." Tarkin frowned and looked back at the thirty clones that made up their squad and the Jedi in the back, the glow of his lightsaber almost seeming to be swallowed by the oppressive dark around them.

"Thirty men and two Jedi against those beasts are not good odds," Tarkin whispered, and Anakin chuckled.

"You're underestimating the powers of the Jedi."

"I most certainly am not. _You_ are going to be distracted by Kenobi. It isn't just three rancors, it's three rancors and _Kenobi_." Tarkin pointed his rifle down an adjacent hallway, the light mounted on the end of the weapon lighting up very little as the darkness swallowed it. "We will need to use the ship to separate the beasts from their Master. Can you hold Kenobi off long enough for that to be accomplished?"

They crept down the hall, slowly approaching the ship's stateroom, located under the bridge. "I'll do my best, Tarkin. Can you trap the rancors?"

"I believe so. But I haven't seen the beast he is said to keep, and if it's half as big as they say..." Tarkin ran a hand over his swept-back hair and rubbed his neck. "If it comes to that, we may have to lure it to the engines and make it fall into the reactor."

"Just don't blow up the ship," Anakin said softly, pressing his lightsaber into another sealed door and cutting a hole large enough for them all to step through, and as Anakin entered the stateroom, he gagged and nearly retched as the stench of blood hit him. There were bodies of clones _everywhere_ , and not one in a single piece, and as they stepped through the room, the fine, wood floor was slicked with blood that had yet to dry. These deaths were recent.

"Looks like we found our missing patrol," Tarkin said, reading one of the clone's identification stamp. Anakin shivered as he looked around, grabbing hold of the Force and shielding himself from the powerful feelings that the slaughter was invoking in him. He had been at war for a long time now, and he had seen many terrible things, but for the most part, he was fighting against droids, and a couple oil spills and some spare parts was as visceral as it got. But _this_ was uncommonly brutal.

"Why would he do this..." Anakin asked, not expecting an answer, but he got one when Rex called him over, the lights on his helmet pointed at a white wall smeared red with blood that spelled _Skywalker_. Despite his focus, he couldn't help but feel rage build up inside him.

"I think he's sending you a message," Rex said somberly, and Anakin nodded, his eyes narrowed in anger.

"I'm going to kill that son of a bitch," Skywalker growled, raising his lightsaber to light the room, and felt his anger spike when he could see another wall, an arrow painted upon it that pointed the way out of a room and down another dark hall.

"He's baiting us" Tarkin said quietly as he stepped beside Skywalker. "Don't let this get to you. We need you focused."

"I _am_ focused," he growled, and Tarkin tightly grabbed his arm.

"You are not, you are getting emotional. These clones are already dead, you mustn't let it upset you. It's what he's counting on, or he wouldn't have done this." He was angry before, but now Anakin tried to take deep, calming breaths. Tarkin was right, as usual.

"What do you suggest we do?" he asked softly.

"It will take us hours to search this ship, and we would never find him. He's trying to wear on our nerves, and it's working." They looked back at the clones as the men quietly, _nervously_ talked to one another, and both men frowned and exhaled long-held breaths that froze in the air before them. "He's winning the battle before its even begun by crippling us with fear, and the longer this goes on, the worse it gets."

Anakin groaned. "We have to take the bait. It's the only way to find him."

"I do fear you are correct." Anakin closed his eyes and reached deep into the Force for guidance and found it quickly, gently pushing him to follow the path laid out for him. He could feel it, strong and clear unlike anything he had ever felt before. Today was the day that Obi-Wan would die. He could not let this opportunity go to waste. The things he saw only confirmed the need to kill the Sith quickly, and if the Force insisted that today was the day, he needed to take it. He silently motioned for Tarkin and Rex to follow him, and they fell in right behind him as he followed Kenobi's grim directions, the rest of the clones and Master Mundi keeping close formation.

There were more bodies down that hallway, and the next and the next, but none of them were clones. There were Gungans and Twi'leks and Dugs and many, many others. Unlike the clones, these bodies had been dead for some time, preserved now by the freezing chill in the air, though Tarkin pointed out that they had not been frozen immediately, and not only that, but it seemed as though many had been subjected to experimentation. Skywalker bowed his head and continued on through hallways and up narrow stairwells, stepping over them or around them to make his way past as quickly as possible. This needed to end _now_.

The trail ended in the short corridor just outside the doors to the bridge, and Anakin froze as he looked before him, the Force tugging and pulling at him when another presence reached out to him in warning. "Saesee Tiin is in there," he said, his voice low but strong.

"I feel him too," Master Mundi said, his back toward the other Jedi and lightsaber raised against the darkness behind them.

"Boys, once we go in there, our fight begins," Anakin said, and the clones all saluted. "Keep your wits about you, don't break rank, and _don't_ split up." He thrust his lightsaber into the durasteel door and cut a hole large enough for several of them to escape through at once with ease. He heard Tarkin over the hiss of the lightsaber detailing the escape plan, if necessary, which boiled down to keeping to the long corridor that ran the length of the ship's spine, and taking a sharp turn right to take them down a maintenance hatch that opened out near where they had docked. It was certainly a great deal faster than the way they had used to get here.

He used the Force to push the large cutout away, and it clattered to the ground with a heavy metallic thud that echoed through the ship long after it had fallen still. In the center of the bridge, a stasis field had been installed, and within the bindings hung Saesee Tiin, barely conscious and badly beaten, long, thick, dark lightsaber burns crossing his bare torso and deep, bleeding welts stood stark upon his skin. Anakin couldn't help but rush to the man and quickly begin looking for a way to shut the device off, and when he found none, he shoved his lightsaber through the console on the base, and the blue light flickered off in a hiss of sparks. The Iktotchi dropped, and Anakin and Rex swiftly caught him and laid him upon the ground.

"Anakin..." Master Mundi said, his voice tense with caution, but the other Jedi was busy focusing on trying to heal Tiin's wounds, the lost Master groaning as he opened his eyes.

"Hey there," Anakin said softly, smiling at the horned Jedi. "Hang on, we're going to get you home. Skywalker almost choked when the Master's hand shot out and grabbed him y the throat, and Anakin could hear thirty blasters whining as they charged.

"You can't be here!" Tiin growled, his thick, wide-palmed hand leaving Anakin's neck and instead grabbing at his robes. "This is a trap, you have to go _now_!"

"We can't just abandon you!"

"Yes you can. You _must_." Saesee growled, gripping the boy tighter and pulling him close. "Shaak Ti is alive, he has her enslaved, you _must_ rescue her!"

"Wait, _what_?!" Anakin said sharply, and the Iktotchi groaned and gripped his head, and Skywalker frowned as he looked at him. Tiin's eyes were yellow, but...they had always been that way, hadn't they? He tried to reach out and sense the Dark Side in the man, but as expected, he could feel nothing.

"Anakin!" Mundi said again, but Anakin had already turned his attention back to Tiin.

"How do I know you aren't lying?" Skywalker asked quietly, and Saesee shook his head. "How do I know you aren't working for the Sith?"

"You don't, and that's the point. _Go_ , Skywalker, before it's too late."

" _Anakin_!" Mundi said sharply, and this time, Skywalker stood up, leaving Rex to watch cautiously over the groaning Jedi on the ground. "This ship has no power, so _where_ did the power from the containment field come from?"

"It must run on it's own power cells, it's-"

"Not on a device of this size and power." Anakin could feel a pit in his stomach as he heard the ship groan, not from the massive weight settling, but from the sudden jolt of life as power was slowly restored, and th soft static of the intercom crackled to life with amused laughter from a voice Anakin recognized all too well.

 _Kenobi_.

"Well done, Master Mundi!" the Sith chirped over the ship-wide intercom, and the clones raised their weapons and fell into tight formation. "I suppose that binary brain of yours is good for something."

" _Kenobi_!" Anakin shouted, his lightsaber blazing in his hand. "Come out of hiding and face me!"

The Sith Lord laughed. "Oh, no, no, Skywalker, _you're_ supposed to come find _me_ , remember?"

"I did find you, I'm here, aren't I?" Kenobi scoffed dismissively.

"Oh, _please_ , a blind Wookie with brain damage could have found my ship. I made it _very_ simple for you. I wasn't sure you could manage anything more difficult. If I knew you were bringing Ki-Adi-Mundi, I would have made it a greater challenge."

This time, Anakin started laughing. "I understand. You're _afraid_." There was silence over the intercom, the soft hum of the engines heard over collective held breath.

"Fine," Obi-Wan said, and Anakin could feel the Force chill. "You stay there, Skywalker, I'll come to you. Oh!" The Sith began chuckling softly. "Don't think I didn't notice the Star Destroyer you brought. It hardly seems fair, I'm certainly not worth an entire battalion."

"You aren't worth a single man, but here we are anyway."

"Then let's keep this between us," Kenobi drawled, and Anakin felt sudden panic as a low, high pitched hum could be heard in the air around them. "After all, we don't want your friends to get involved..." The soft static of the intercom cut as lights on the consoles around the bridge flickered to life and the low hum began to increase in pitch as it slowly became a whine.

"He's engaging the hyperdrive!" Anakin quickly barked, and without a moment's hesitation, the clones rushed to take their seats around the bridge and began pressing buttons and flicking switches at Tarkin's command. "Rex, contact the _Vigilance_ , get them over here and have them shoot out the engines!" With a swift nod, Rex did as he was ordered, and a moment later, Anakin could see his Star Destroyer flying out from behind volcanic Conus, it's forward cannons firing on the ship as it slowly roared to life.

" _General Skywalker_!" Anakin turned to see Tarkin, his face ashen and the closet to panic he had ever seen the man. "We can't cancel the jump, we have no control from up here! He must have rewired the power to another location, but the ship isn't being controlled from up here!"

"We jump in three minutes, sir!" one of the clones shouted, and a thousand thoughts ran through Anakin's head, the chaos quickly turned to order when he released himself to the Force.

"Rex, tell Vigilance to fire everything they have. I don't know if it's enough to break through the shields, but it might be. Also have them get a lock on our jump coordinates. Tarkin, find out where we're going!" Anakin clipped his lightsaber onto his belt as he rushed to one of the electrical panels underneath the central command console as everyone rushed to do as he commanded. He tore the cover off and reached is hands inside, moving wires out of the way and searching until he found the proper connectors he needed to reroute control back to the bridge. Grinning when he hd hold of the thick bundle of wires, he pulled the cord out to find that it had been cut, the frayed ends melted and burned by the touch of plasma.

Kenobi had sabotaged the bridge. There was no way to resume control. "Change our jump coordinates," he barked, and the clones didn't look away from his work.

"I'm trying, sir, but the data is scrambled! I can't read it!"

"Shields at seventy percent, sir!"

"Two minutes to jump, sir!"

Anakin growled, his mechanical fist clenching around the severed bundle of wires. Without it, the control console was simply a board of flashing lights and switches, as useless as a toy made to occupy the short attention of infants. He didn't need to look beneath the other consoles to know that he would find the same thing underneath each one. Even with the bombardment by the _Vigilance_ , they wouldn't get through in time to take out the engines, and without control of the ship, there was no way to bring the shields down manually. There was only one option left.

"Everyone, run back for the shuttle! Quickly!"

It was a straight shot down the hallway, and despite protests from Anakin, Tarkin managed to pull him away from Saesee Tiin, leaving the Jedi behind on the bridge. It was difficult to do, but if Kenobi managed to get them to hyperspace, it was over, and they would never be able to launch a second rescue attempt, and Skywalker promised to come back for him as he dashed away. Just as they were about to bank right into the maintenance corridor that would take them directly to their shuttle, large, heavy blast doors slammed behind them, the fast, sudden activation of the security measure catching two clones within them and crushing the two men, the force of the doors severing one across the legs and the other through his chest. With a panicked yell, Anakin rushed back to the doors and pressed his lightsaber through just as Master Mundi did the same from the other side. More than half their forces were trapped beyond the blast doors, and Anakin was driven to press harder when he heard a furious rush of wind from the other side, followed by agonized screams.

Together, Skywalker and his fellow Jedi made quick work of the door, and when the cut metal was dislodged, flames poured from the opening, and Anakin had to jump back to keep from getting burned. Ki-Adi Mundi jumped out of the inferno, his elongated cranium scarred with blistering burns and the thick fibers of his robes slowly singeing, and he tore it off when he was far away enough from the superheated air by the engulfed blast doors. Several clones followed him out, their immaculate white armor scored with blackened burns, and Anakin quickly counted their total to now be under twenty. In one moment, Kenobi had claimed the lives of nearly half his forces.

"This entire ship is a death trap!" Anakin growled, and Tarkin quickly grabbed his arm and pulled him as he ran by, and the group began sprinting down the hall once again, making the sharp turn into the maintenance corridor just as another blast door slammed shut. Anakin started to turn to make sure everyone made it through, but a swift push from Tarkin turned his attention forward.

"We can't afford anymore delays, General, if they don't make it, we must leave them." Anakin winced. It was cold, yes, but Tarkin was again correct. His anger rising, he pressed forward, his legs carrying him at a faster pace down the ramp as the ship roared to life. Another slam behind him, more screams, and the Jedi pressed forward, teeth grit as the resolve to destroy this Sith Lord grew. He was so sure, _so certain_ that it would today, that Obi-Wan, _Darth Lumis_ , would fall, but it seemed his feeling was mistaken. Fleeing was the only option. Being trapped in hyperspace was one thing, but _where_ they were jumping was anyone's guess, and it couldn't be good.

Just as they entered the final hallway and could see the cut airlock, Anakin was nearly knocked off his feet as the Star Destroyer lurched forward, and with a howl of fury, the Jedi increased his speed, leaving the group behind and skidding to a stop just before the airlock as a red energy field crossed the opening, an emergency protocol on every Star Destroyer to maintain hull integrity if it was compromised. Skywalker couldn't breathe as he watched the fragile connection between the shuttle and the airlock snap, metal groaning as their only escape was torn from the side of the ship, the connection not strong enough to withstand the pressure of being connected to a ship as it jumped to lightspeed. Within moments, all he could see were the blue and white lines of hyperspace, tinted red through the energy field.

"So..." Anakin said softly as Tarkin and Rex approached, the remainder of their squad following closely behind. There were only ten of them now between the Jedi, the Admiral, and the remaining clones. Ki-Adi-Mundi laid his back against the cold durasteel of the ship's hull, eyes closed as he centered in the Force to push past the painful burns that scarred his head. "Did our analysis account for _this_?"

"You saw the same thing as I did, General," Tarkin said tightly. "The ship was _dead._ There were no power readings, no sign that it _could_ regain power."

Laughter pealed through the air and echoed through the corridors, and Anakin shivered as the sound seemed to envelop him. It came from the intercom system, but the origin was _very_ close. "Trying to escape?" the Sith asked, a condescending reprimand to his tone. "That is _terribly_ rude. This is your ship, after all, she's _named_ after you!"

"You will pay for the men you've killed here today!" Anakin shouted down the hall, his lightsaber raised and ready, and he was answered with a hiss of disapproval.

"Now, now, it's _your_ fault for bringing so many to a fight that is between you and I. I only brought four friends. _You_ brought thirty three. That's hardly fair."

The hair on Anakin's neck stood on end as the Force filled him with warning. The Dark Side was everywhere, overwhelming and suppressive, but his own connection to the Force cut a line right through it, and he knew exactly where to go. With a deep breath to get his anger under control, he called out, "Come on, Kenobi, It's me you want. Come out and let us end this."

"Anxious, Skywalker?" the Sith drawled. "We will be in hyperspace for a few hours as we make our way to our final destination, so I'm not lacking for time." He chuckled softly _._ "But _you_ are. Come and get me, Jedi. They say the Force is your ally. Let's see how true that is." There was static, than silence as the intercom cut, and Anakin exhaled a sigh of relief as the Force surrounded him. This Sith Lord was _arrogant_ , maybe deservedly so, but Anakin had an advantage. The Force, it's soft, gentle comfort, surrounded him, drove the darkness away and filled him with a calm ease, a feeling he embraced just as Yoda had taught him to. It made him strong, and through the light, he could see the shadows as they moved and swayed, parting before him and seeming to flee toward the same point.

The darkness fled to Kenobi, just as it was meant to do in the presence of a Dark Side nexus. Darth Lumis was a vortex, bringing the Dark Side to him as he greedily brought it within him, and right away, Anakin could feel the difference between them. Anakin reached _out_ with the Force, the energy spiraling away from him and extending to touch all around him, drawn from the infinite well that was his own vergence in the Force. He was made for this. This was what he was _meant_ to do. Deep within him, he could feel the Force urging him toward the Sith, and slowly, he closed his eyes and allowed the Force to guide him down the hallways and corridors, his tense and nervous team following silently behind him.

 _Today is the day_ , Anakin could hear within him self, the warmth of the words of the Force filling him with peace and ease and comfort. _Today is the day Obi-Wan Kenobi ends_. It would be a new beginning for the Jedi. With Kenobi gone, the fracturing would stop. The Order could begin rebuilding, stronger than before, work to mend old weaknesses that have allowed the Sith to regain strength. A new Jedi Order would arise and maybe, _maybe_ , Anakin would be the one to help lead it as a member of the Council.

"He is no doubt bringing us deep into Separatist Space," Tarkin said softly. "Our only option is to kill him and his allies before we get there. We can make it out of this if he is dead."

"General Skywalker can handle that Sith monster," Rex said, his voice brimming with confidence in his commander. "It's the allies I'm worried about. He could be lying about his allies, he could have more."

"He doesn't," Anakin said softly, slowly creeping into a large, empty room that extended so far above them that they couldn't see the ceiling. The walls curved out from the door they entered in from, and Anakin slowly entered, holding up his lightsaber to allow him to see part of the oblong shape of the room, but it extended so far back, the majority was shrouded in darkness. In here, the Force was... _still_. Skywalker frowned. This was a far cry from what it had been a moment before, gentle and guiding and warning, but now, even when he reached out to touch it, he found it still, the waters not even rippling when he grazed his touch across it. It was as if the light were stilling in the presence of the dark, two powerful forces negating each other.

He was here.

"How do you know?" Rex asked Anakin softly, and Skywalker opened his eyes.

"I can feel them all. Four allies, like he said." He stopped and held a hand up in the air, and the remaining men quickly grouped together, blasters facing outward of the tight circle they made. "Where are we, Tarkin?"

"This _should_ be where the subsidiary reactor is kept," he grumbled, clearly displeased by the irregularity. "There are _many_ branching passages from here, so if we need to make a quick escape, it should not be a problem."

Nodding, Anakin took a few cautious steps forward and stopped, standing as still as he could, and his men did the same as a low, dangerous growl echoed through the cavernous room. The blue of his lightsaber reflected off a massive shape before them, the pale surface stained blue rising and falling with deep, rhythmic movement, and standing dark against the pale backdrop was a man in armor draped with cloth. Anakin narrowed his sharp eyes, and through the dark, he could see it was of Mandalorian make, the cloth fine and seamlessly woven in with the design to form elegant robes around it, the helmet crested with horns that swept back along the curve of his head, and through the T-shaped visor, Skywalker could see points of glowing golden light through the darkness.

It was _Sith_. It was _Kenobi_.

Skywalker suddenly became keenly aware of the deep, tense breathing off to his sides, the low growls that seemed to grow more angry, more hungry by the second. How had he not sensed these creatures before? He _knew_ they would be there, but when he was close, when he stood in the same room as the rancors, he felt _nothing_. Kenobi's own absent presence must have had something to do with it. And the fourth ally...

" _Traitor_!" Rex raised his blaster, the whine of the charge being primed sounding as Anakin looked and saw a man in clone armor jog out of the darkness to stand beside the Sith Lord, and his helmeted head snapped around to look at Anakin's captain Skywalker could feel him bubble over with anger, striding a few steps away from the Sith and raising his own blaster.

" _Slave_ ," came the hissed response, and before anyone could stop it, both Rex and his counterpart began shooting at each other, and the Sith's red lightsaber extended, effortlessly blocking the bolts as Anakin did the same, both Skywalker and Kenobi commanding their troops to stop. Obi-Wan's clone responded first, the man quickly kneeling before his Lord, and Rex reluctantly stopped firing when Anakin slapped a hand on his chest to halt him, but his blaster remained trained on the enemy.

"We need you to focus on Kenobi," Ki-Adi-Mundi said quietly behind Anakin. "The rest of us will keep the rancors busy." Anakin nodded, and slowly stepped forward. It wasn't a good plan, but it was the best they had. Master Munid _was_ one of the best swordsmen in the Order, though, and while the rancor's tough skin kept them safe from blaster fire, he wasn't certain how effective it would be against a lightsaber.

"Rex," Anakin said softly, "kill that clone. Avoid the rancors at all costs until he is dead. After that, do _exactly_ as Tarkin commands, he'll have a plan for dealing with the rancors by then."

"Yes sir."

It was all he could do to prepare his men. With a deep breath, he looked back to Kenobi and...

 _He was gone_.

The enormous beast he had been standing in front of reared up to his full, truly gargantuan height and roared, a sound so loud and deafening that all in the room winced, but the Sith had _vanished_. A moment later, and chaos erupted as the three rancors charged forward, snarling and roaring and Anakin's force dove out of the way as three pairs of massive horns clashed, the beasts shrieking and clawing at each other for a moment before they turned their attention to Ki-Adi-Mundi as the Jedi leapt into the air and landed on top of one of the snarling beasts. He poised his lightsaber to stab down into it's thick neck, but a vicious swipe from one of the others forced the Jedi to retreat, drawing the attention of the creatures away from the clones.

Anakin was about to rush out to help his Jedi brother when he felt the Force pull at him, and he spun quickly, lightsaber raised and just barely managing to block the viciously slashing red blade as Kenobi jumped out at him from the shadows themselves. The ferocity of the attack forced Skywalker into a frantic retread away from the rancors, and despite his best efforts to lead the Sith back toward the other Jedi, Kenobi blocked his every attempt to sidestep toward them. The Sith Lord was making it _very_ clear that Skywalker would not be controlling the path their fight would take them. Blaster fire was suddenly focused on the Sith, and with a growl, he reached behind him and grabbed another weapon, the black blade hissing to life as he spun low and slashed at Anakin's legs, forcing him to jump to avoid it as the red blade clashed with his blue. When he landed, Anakin again had to quickly flip out of the way of another flurry from the dual weapons, his blue saber meeting the black blade with a sharp hiss as the red, now in Kenobi's left hand, effortlessly blocked the blaster fire. His weapons had switched hands. _When_ had he managed that?

The sound of yet another lightsaber being activated could be heard, and it was followed by his supporting fire suddenly stopping as the air was filled with screams. With a gasp, Anakin was forced to retreat once again as the Sith's focus returned, bringing both of his blades to bear on the young Jedi. Slipping underneath the red blade and blocking the black one as he swung around, Anakin repositioned himself to look out on the battlefield to see a blue lightsaber slashing his clones to pieces. Tarkin and Rex stood a fair distance away to take shots at the traitorous clone, but his movements were swift and unpredictable, making him nearly impossible to hit. The shots that did were glancing, and when he had an opening, Kenobi's commander made a beeline for the rancors, the remaining clones shooting after him as they gave chase.

Anakin suddenly found himself thrown hard against the wall, his momentary drift of focus allowing the Sith Lord to break past his shields and use the Force against him, and Skywalker couldn't get up fast enough to keep Kenobi away. His concentration returned, Anakin slashed up at the Sith, catching the two blades as they crossed and locking them together. It didn't seem to phase Kenobi, who simply planted his feet and pressed his weight behind his blades, Anakin's teeth clenching as the lightsabers drew closer to him.

"Do you truly believe you can win?" Kenobi asked, his voice filtered through the helmet's speakers, those golden eyes glowing behind the helmet.

"I was _made_ for this," Anakin growled. "The Jedi have destroyed the Sith before, and we shall do it again!" Cold, chilling laughter was his response, and Skywalker felt the man shift the position of his weapons above him, and he deactivated his blue saber, the Sith's weight suddenly pressing on nothing at all sending him nearly falling to the floor as Anakin rolled out of the way. He reignited his weapon, and lashed out with it as he spun to his feet, but the Sith had quickly recovered and blocked the strike, countering with his own that Anakin barely avoided.

"It's a fallacy that you honestly believe that it was the _Jedi_ that killed the Sith," Kenobi growled, the red blade leaving a bleeding trail in the air as it whipped around toward the Jedi. " _We_ killed each other, and the Jedi failed to exterminate the two that remained."

"A failure I will soon be rectifying..." Anakin said, his voice tense with focus, but his body was calm, fluid, graceful, just like the Sith's. Anakin wasn't thinking about his movements, simply allowing the Force to guide his motions, as he knew the Sith was doing as well.

Kenobi laughed. "You may try, Skywalker, but the Force is with me. You weren't made to deal with me, _I_ was made in response to _you_." Anakin barely managed to block and dodge the next flurry of attacks as his centered position within the Force wavered. There was a quiet truth to what Obi-Wan was saying, Skywalker could feel it, and it chilled him, the warm comfort of the Force fading as smooth, cool threads gripped him. Circling his blade around, Anakin managed to catch Obi-Wan's red blade and pin it to the ground, and he swiftly dragged his lightsaber up the length of the red blade, only to have it stopped by the eerie darksaber.

"The Force," Kenobi said softly, "wants you out of the equation. I came to be to rectify the _mistake_ of your birth." A loud, sharp screech echoed through the room, and both Anakin and Obi-Wan's attention was torn away from each other, Skywalker dipping his blade down to swiftly disengage the Sith as he watched Ki-Adi-Mundi slash one of the rancor's along its flank, athletically jump on to the arm of another as it swiped at him, and flipped off the claw toward the one he had injured, lightsaber extended as he fell head first toward the beast. The glowing blue blade dug through the thick skin of its neck just below the line of its helmet, and the Cerean swung his legs down, using the full force of the fall to bring the lightsaber to the hilt into the rancor's neck. A pained roar faded into a shuddering groan, and the beast staggered as it collapsed, the rapid rising and falling of its ribs quickly stilling as it died.

Anakin felt the Force slam against him like a crashing wave, almost knocking the wind out of him as Kenobi sprinted toward the Jedi Master, the monestrous rancor roaring in time with the pulse of the Dark Side as it seemed to focus on Mundi, the smaller of the two remaining beasts barking and running away, it's attention drawn to Tarkin and Rex, the only two survivors of Anakin's squad. The other clones lay dead all around them, their bodies badly brutalized by wicked claws and hacking slashes from a lightsaber.

Mundi jumped off the beast as it fell, but a sudden, supernaturally fast swipe through the air grabbed the Jedi before he landed, the lightsaber clattering to the ground. Anakin rushed toward Master Mundi, but the rampaging of the other rancor got in the way, Tarkin and Rex scrambling to avoid savage claws and crushing impact, and for a moment, Anakin didn't know what to do, hesitated for only a second, but that second was enough to force the younger Jedi into dealing with the wild beast. He jumped up onto the creature's back just in time to see Obi-Wan do the same thing on the other beast, grabbing the massive rancor's horns and swinging up to stand on its armored head. The Cerean struggled in its grasp, the man gasping in pain as the powerful grip crushed him, and Skywalker could feel the Force pulse with darkness as Obi-Wan grabbed both horns, the rancor's eyes seeming to glow as the Sith assumed control.

Standing on it short, thick hind legs, the rancor grabbed the Jedi Master with both its hands, and with a roar of triumph, it pulled the Master apart, blood and viscera splattering on the ground below, its two bloody hands tightly grasping the two halves of the Master and slamming them to the ground. Grief and revulsion pierced through Anakin, his focus lost as the rancor he stood on shook him from his body, and Skywalker barely had time to land before Kenobi had jumped off his mount and began to quickly advance, the enormous rancor following closely behind. Calling Master Mundi's lightsaber to his hand, Anakin quickly grabbed Tarkin and Rex and began to run.

"Plan, _fast_ ," Anakin snapped as the three rushed across the room, their pursuers close behind them.

"The plan hasn't changed," Tarkin growled, panting between heavy breaths. "You take Kenobi. We take the rancors and the clone."

"That's a _very_ nasty three on two, Tarkin!" Anakin said, his voice high with worry and near panic.

"Yes, but it's better than having to deal with _three_ rancors. We can dispose of them with enough time." Anakin nodded. He believed him.

"Keep your com tuned to mine and contact me if you need." With a sharp nod, Tarkin and Rex pealed away from Anakin's side, shooting back at the rancors as they did so, and the beasts tore after them, the rogue clone soldier following close behind. Which left Anakin with the Sith Lord, and he was _furious_.

The Force was turbulent, like the sea in a storm, and Kenobi commanded it all. His first offensive against Anakin had been vicious enough, but this one was fueled by something else entirely. Before, Obi-Wan had been amused, almost playful, but now, grief turned to rage, and rage made him _strong_ , and Anakin wasn't fast enough to center himself before the red blade came crashing down upon him, followed closely by the black. Two hands on his weapon, Anakin swiftly retreated, backing up and away from the bloody room and into a long, branching hallway, pressed further and further back by the flurry of red and black. It wasn't until they had entered another large chamber, the entire room humming with the whine of the hyperdrive, the walls bathed in a blue glow from the powerful, active core, that Skywalker refound his focus and balance, and as calm settled over him, he activated Ki-Adi-Mundi's lightsaber in his offhand. The fight, suddenly, had become much more even.

And it _was_. Even the Force seemed to flow in a beautiful harmony, the light and the dark mixing as blue blades met red and black in a mix of graceful movement and masterful, deadly precision. Both Jedi and Sith, touched by the Force, _moved_ by it, couldn't come close to striking the other, each strike bouncing uselessly off the opposing blades. They moved around each other, alternated attacking and defending, neither one tiring or showing any sign of stopping as the Jedi found calm and peace in the smooth, fast, elegant motions, and the Sith found strength in his furry at how long the fight was taking. Anakin felt it could go on forever. Kenobi _knew_ it could. They were too evenly matched, two eyes in the storm of the Force, energies opposite and opposed that, when placed together, neutralized the other.

Anakin knew that as his focus grew, so would the Sith's rage, and while it made Kenobi powerful, it also made him wild and unpredictable. So long as Skywalker stayed centered and focused, calm and collected, the endless passion of the Sith would at some point yield to mistakes, and in those moments, Anakin would strike. Kenobi would die today. The Force whispered it to him even now.

"General." The comlink on Anakin's wrist sounded, but Skywalker's focus wasn't broken.

"Report."

"We're held up in an auxiliary room offside the port engines," the Admiral reported. "The rancor can't get through, and the clone is using it as a shield to keep us from shooting him."

"Good work, Tarkin," Anakin droned, and the Sith Lord growled, pressing his attack once again, and Skywalker retreated onto the platform surrounding the massive, humming hyperdrive.

Kenobi was _done_. This Jedi had killed one of his rancors. _Well,_ not _this_ Jedi, but it was Skywalker's fault for bringing him. No matter what he did, Skywalker countered it. Whatever it was that Qui-Gon had done to train him had worked masterfully, because Anakin Skywalker was, in fact, one with the Force, the center of a mighty vergence, and for a moment, Kenobi could feel the long-forgotten feel of jealousy. When he was a Jedi, he had so wanted to be Anakin, to have half the potential he was said to have, to be wanted by Qui-Gon Jinn, to be a force to be reckoned with, to one day be one of the greatest Jedi of all time. All that had been swiftly crushed at every turn, and then he had found the Sith, the family who accepted him, nurtured his wants, his needs, his passions that had been so long forbidden. Everythig led to this moment. _Everything_...

The speakers in his helmet crackled with static as he swung his lightsaber over his head and brought it down at the Jedi, slashing across with his other weapon as Skywalker jumped away, and Kenobi rushed in, swinging his lightsabers up, dragging a trail of sparks along the ground as he met Anakin again. The blades clashed, locked one across the other as both combatants struggled to aim the blade's tip in an angel to give them the best chance of striking their opponent as they dislodged.

"Obi-Wan!" Kenobi froze, the weapons hissing and sparking with Skywalker's. It was Satine, he voice tight and fraught, and Obi-Wan held his breath. "Obi-Wan, Mandalore is under attack!"

" _What_?" he snapped, breaking away successfully from Skywalker, but this time, th Jedi moved to the offensive as Kenobi slipped into his preferred Soresu. "That isn't possible."

" _It is_ ," she snapped. "Black Sun, the Pyke Syndicate, the Hutt Cartel...Obi, the army is _massive_. We can't hold it off." Pain pierced though his chest as the Dark Side roared. It wasn't angry. It was _frantic_. He looked at Skywalker as the man ferociously attacked him, the calm, cool of a Jedi flowing through him, and three words from his lover told him exactly what he needed to do. "I need you."

Blocking two vicious strikes from the Jedi, Obi-Wan thrust his darksaber behind him, the black blade piercing the hyperdrive's main control, and the ship lurched forward as the glow of the blue core faded, the Star Destroyer quickly reverting to real space as Obi-Wan blended into the shadows and ran. There would always be another day for Skywalker. Now, all he could think about were his visions, the flames bruning in his mind as a single word echoed over and over within him.

 _Maul_.

"I'm on my way, Satine," he muttered quickly, and contacted Cody as he ran through the desolate ship. "Cody, bring the rancors to the _Umbra_. I'm leaving without you if you aren't there when I get there." Cody didn't ask any of the several questions he had, he simply gave a swift affirmative and left Tarkin and Rex, the rancors following close behind. The _Skywalker_ had been gutted in order to set up the trap he had devised, and as of now, there were few ships that would be _slower_ than the lumbering Star Destroyer. And further more, the _Umbra_ was one of the fastest ships ever built. And still it would not be enough. They were _hours_ from Mandalore, and as he ran to the hangar, Kenobi couldn't shake the dread from his mind.

"Sir," Rex said over Anakin's com as the Jedi pushed himself off the floor. "The rancors and that traitor are retreating!"

"Get to the hangar bay!" Anakin snapped, leaping to his feet and rushing down the corridors in search of Kenobi. He had _disappeared_ , and not only could Anakin not see the man, he couldn't sense him either. "Kenobi's trying to run, don't let them escape!"

Skywalker rushed through the ship to the hangar. He knew the way there from every single part of the ship, being the place that housed his beloved starship aboard his own Star Destroyer. He got there in short order just in time to see the massive overhead hangar doors opened, the blue atmospheric shielding protecting them from the vacuum of space, the stars the small pinpricks of white light instead of the blue and white of hyperspace. For some reason, Kenobi had brought them out of hyperspace early, dropping them into space who knows where, but out the doors, Anakin could see no planets, no nearby stars. Just the inky blackness of space, the white dots of stars, and the sleek black of the _Umbra_ as the ship made the jump to hyperspace.


	80. Mand'alor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note to say that the holidays get crazy for me, so expect updates a bit slower. Every few days, probably, since I'll only have time to write at night. That's all.

Sundari burned, and Maul sat on the throne of Mandalore, the deposed queen on her knees beside him, those ice blue eyes staring straight ahead, hateful and unmoving. Contrary to what he had been led to believe, the Mandalorians were _not_ pacifists. They were warriors, strong and proud and cunning, and he had broken his own significantly larger army against them in his conquest of their home world. He had been given a rare opportunity when he and Savage were found by the Black Sun. The formidable criminal organization had almost been sent running when they learned that they were Sith, and in this, Maul had found an opportunity. Fear of the Sith meant they had previous contact with them before, and Maul had been quick to reassure the criminals that he was the passionate enemy of the current ruling Sith Lords. It had captured their attention enough to bring the brothers back to the Black Sun headquarters on Ord Mantell to meet with their leaders.

What Maul had learned from the Lords of the Black Sun was... _illuminating_. Shortly before the war, the Black Sun had their headquarters on the planet Mustafar, a menacing world of lava flows and violent atmospheric storms that kept them safe from most who would have otherwise attempted to go after them. Until one day, a man wielding a red lightsaber and a massive, feral beast of a rancor, horned and skin a rare white, landed on the planet, and without a word, began to violently kill everyone in the fortress. None had escaped the slaughter, not even the council of leaders stationed there, and though they had offered him money, weapons, drugs, women and slaves, the man had wanted none of it. He wasn't doing it for material wealth or luxury. He did it because he decided the planet was his, and he had simply come to chase out the rats. The leadership was executed, and the recording of the massacre sent to the rest of the syndicate on Ord Mantell as a warning to the rest of them.

They had quickly learned that revenge against this creature was impossible, and all attempts ended in the slaughter of all those that tried. All future attempts against the man were quickly dispelled when he ventured out of Mustafar with his savage beast and an army of clone soldiers to crush one of their major operations on the planet Drongar, and after that, Black Sun lived in fear of this man, one they soon learned identified as Sith. He had many names, but the criminal underworld came to know him as Darth Lumis, Sith Lord and Master of all he touched, and he was to be avoided at all costs.

Despite his urging, Maul could do nothing about motivating the Black Sun to move against Kenobi, though they had seemed glad to have powerful new allies on their side, ones that had the same powers as the famed Jedi, and the feared Sith, and both he and Savage had been fitted with new cybernetics, far lighter and less awkward than the legs he had before, and Savage's new arm functioned just as well as his organic one. That may have been the end of it, leaving the brothers as simply a new arm of the enforces of the most powerful crime syndicate in the galaxy, but then he heard about Mandalore. A vast empire of systems dedicated to neutrality in the war, all of them submitting to the rule of Duchess Satine Kryze, the pacifist empress of the collective, and in a galaxy torn apart at the seams, Maul had wondered what was keeping the crime families from simply taking control from a weak woman with a weak rule and creating a vast, sprawling crime empire. The work had been done for them. All they needed to do was walk in and take it.

The answer to that question was, at first, confused. Crime had run rampant on Mandalore once, corruption and greed spreading like wildfire among those who led, leaving the Duchess powerless to stop it while her people suffered because of a war that was not theirs. The Black Market thrived, and the crime syndicates moved in, but this was swiftly brought to an end when the Duchess had enough, and brought Mandalore into her militant hands. The Hutts had been targeted, and within days, the mighty cartel fled from Mandalore to hide in Hutt space for fear of what might come if they stayed. The other crime syndicates followed suit, and Maul thought it sounded _far_ to similar to the tactics employed to cull the Black Sun. This change, they had said, was brought about by the Shadow King of Mandalore, a man that hid in darkness behind the Mand'alor and emerged to defend what was his when he was called upon. Peace reigned on Mandalore because those outside it feared too much to draw near, and Maul had found his revenge laid out neatly before him.

Kenobi had to be somehow linked to Satine and Mandalore. For peaceful systems ruled by a pacifist in a galaxy at war to thrive as they were, someone had to allow it. Someone, or _something_ , protected the empire, and that something seemed to Maul to be a Sith Lord. At once, Maul not only found his army and his empire, but also his revenge against Kenobi, and if he was wrong, if Kenobi somehow _wasn't_ involved with the Mandalorians, than Maul would be protected by the shield of a crime empire of his creation. Regardless of the outcome, he would win.

Convincing the Black Sun leaders of this, however, was another matter, and his plan to unite the various criminal syndicates under a united banner in order to not just take Mandalore, but destroy the man that kept them pinned under the weight of fear was not taken well. The Lords of the Black Sun so feared retribution that they simply refused to even consider this, and in their fear, Maul saw only weakness. With the leaders of the Black Sun his only obstacle between him and his revenge, Maul and Savage had executed the nine leaders of the organization and quickly established themselves as the Lords of the Black Sun, installing new officers loyal to them and their vision for them to rule behind. The rest had fallen in quickly. Covert meetings with the Hutt Cartel, the Pyke Syndicate, the Zann Consortium and all the other criminal enterprises that had suffered losses to the Sith Lord Lumis quickly joined the cause when they saw the vision and strength that Maul had laid bare before them, and as his strength grew, it became easier and easier to expand his criminal army.

The plan was simple. Conquer Mandalore, and they would have an empire, already neatly packaged for them to rule over, and with it, they would bring an end to the Sith's reign of fear. The syndicates would flourish, and there would be nothing anyone could do about it. With his army assembled, Maul had brought the force to fall like a wave upon Mandalore, starting with the conquest of their capital, Sundari, and the removal of the Duchess Satine from power.

It...had not been as easy as Maul had anticipated. To both his concern and relief, Kenobi _wasn't_ there, and not only had the Sith not been seen, it didn't appear as if he would appear at all. What _did_ appear, though, was the Mandalorian Death Watch, an army so fierce that, despite being outnumbered ten to one in the best of their circumstances, Maul had broken his army against them in an attempt to take the city. The Death Watch had been annihilated, but in the process, Maul's army was destroyed, left as broken tatters of its former strength, a pitiful visage of a once mighty union of the most dangerous criminals in the galaxy. It didn't matter. That army could be rebuilt, if it was needed. There was no shortage of criminals in the galaxy, and with the formation of his new criminal empire, it would attract them in swarms.

After the fall of the Death Watch, the rest of it had been easy, and the Duchess was torn from her throne, allowing Maul to take his place as the Master of Mandalore. He looked around the throne room, his sinister gaze falling on the leaders of the crime families that had dedicated themselves to his service that milled around, talking with each other, making plans and celebrating their victory with former Mandalorian leaders that the Duchess had imprisoned on grounds of treason. He would need them to rule the Mandalorians, and the corrupt officials were the best way to go about that. Not only that, they were criminals themselves, and such men and women were an easy thing to manipulate.

And then there was Satine.

Maul looked at the woman out of the corner of his eye and grinned. She _was_ beautiful, regal and proud, and even when he had stormed into the throne room, she had shown no fear in the face of her defeat. Only a cold viciousness that made Maul shiver when the frozen gaze fell upon him for the first time, and he was left wondering if the woman wasn't Force sensitive herself. Around her flowed the Dark Side, and it was not insignificant in its presence, enough to make even Maul take pause for a moment before he discerned the actual cause of the powerful dark pulsing. It took a second glance, but the woman's thin frame had thickened around the waist, noticeable, but not yet cumbersome. She was _pregnant_ , and it was the child, not her, that was the cause of the Dark Side wrath that lashed out against him. It was with great satisfaction that he threw the fierce woman to the ground before him as he took her throne, and this new interest in her saved her from not just death, but from the torture that the Mandalorians he had freed from the prisons had wanted to inflict upon the Sith Lord's slut.

There was no question about who had put the child within the beautiful woman. It was made of Kenobi and the Dark Side, a powerful, dangerous union that the Force itself tried to warn him away from. It was _perfection_ , to have not just Kenobi's woman in his grasp, but also his child, his _legacy_. Soon, his revenge would be complete. Soon...

But still, Kenobi had not come. It had been _hours_ since his conquest of Sundari, and he was beginning to believe that he had made a mistake. Perhaps the man didn't actually care for this woman. Perhaps the Duchess was simply a vessel to be used as a place to spill his passions within. Perhaps he considered this child an inconvenience, a promise of a future threat to his power. Maybe he didn't know. Maybe he did and simply didn't care. Unease settled over him. The cold indifference of the Sith would be far worse than if he was simply taking his time to gather his allies so that he could return to Mandalore with an army. This was about _revenge_ , and Maul couldn't have it if the Sith Lord didn't care. He needed to suffer, and if Satine wasn't the weakness that he had assumed her to be, than the whole conquest was ultimately for nothing. He'd have to go back to planning his revenge, and he couldn't bear to start over knowing that he was so close to having it now.

He looked down at the Duchess, her cold blue eyes fixed in front of her, and with a smirk, he leaned over the arm of the throne and growled, "Nobody's coming to help you."

A sly, knowing smirk crossed her face, and she seemed to light up with quietly simmering malice. "We shall see."

"It has been hours," he said softly, leaning so close he could smell the floral scent of her hair, and still she did not move. "Face it, your lover will not come for you." He reached out and stroked her pale cheek, delighting as the woman shivered in disgust, and with a sharp, swift turn of her head, Maul's hand erupted in pain as Satine _bit him_ , her teeth digging into the red flesh below his thumb, and Maul quickly drew his hand back, but the woman would not be dislodged. With a feral growl, he brought the hard knuckles of his other hand down across her cheek, striking her so hard that the pale skin split, and Maul gripped his hand as the woman released it. Blood pulsed from the deep teeth marks, dripping on to the arm of the throne, and Maul growled in rage as he looked at the woman, her eyes cold and defiant as she stared directly at him without the slightest hint of pain or fear, not flinching or even taking notice when Savage ignited his lightsaber and pointed it at her.

"You insolent bitch!" Maul snarled, leaping to his feet and taking his own lightsaber into his hand, becoming even more furious when even that didn't draw any emotion besides contempt from the woman. She looked at him like he was small, like he was _nothing_. "How would you like me to cut that vile spawn out of your body? How long do you think it will survive outside it's mother?"

She spit at him, and Maul's face was hit with a mixture of saliva and his own blood, and he growled, glaring at the woman as he wiped it away and found her smirking and amused, her shoulders shaking as she dared to _laugh_. "A good deal longer than you, I suspect."

"Death is too good for you!" Maul snarled, deactivating his lightsaber and reaching down to grab her chin in a crushing grip. "Being the slut of a Sith Lord has _emboldened_ you. Tell me, do you spread your legs for anyone, or are you just a whore for the power that the Sith command?" Hatred flashed in her eyes, and Maul chuckled deeply and leaned down to bring his face close to hers. " _I_ am Sith. Perhaps I should take you here on _my_ throne." He drew back slightly when the anger faded from her face and was replaced with amusement.

"If that's what you want, fine. I can oblige a dead man his final request, but..." A coy smile crossed her face, her eyelids lowering seductively, her blue eyes alluring, and Maul could understand how Kenobi was captured. "I hear you lack the parts..." she drawled, and with a snarl of rage, Maul threw her to the ground at the bottom of the steps leading up to the throne.

"Shall I throw you to them, _Duchess_?" he growled, jumping down the stairs and gripping her hair, forcing her head up to look at the crime lords and the people she imprisoned. "What do you think _they_ will do to you? How many times do you think they can rape you before your help arrives, _if_ he arrives?!" He was met with laughter, rich and amused, and he released her quickly, as if touching her burned him, and she looked at him with eyes that blazed with cruelty.

"Do what you will. It doesn't matter, because you're going to die today." She looked out over the throne room at the people gathered there, all of them watching her. "You are _all_ going to die today."

" _Quiet_..." Savage growled, grabbing her by the arm and dragging her up the stairs and threw her next to the throne. When Maul took his place on her seat, she sat back on her heels and looked out on the room again, her eyes fixed ahead, her small hands holding the swell of her stomach defensively. "Brother..." Savage whispered to Maul, looking around the room and turning over the long hilt of his lightsaber in his hands. "What are we doing? Why are we here?"

"We are here for revenge..." Maul sighed, rubbing his temple. They have had this discussion before. "Today, I will have it."

"But Lumis-"

" _He will_ ," Maul hissed. "Of course he will. He will come, and I will have my revenge."

"And then what?" he asked. "This isn't some Jedi who will sit back and do nothing, this is a Lord of the Sith. He won't hesitate to kill us."

"Perhaps not. But he will _suffer_ , and his pain will feed our strength."

"He's Sith, brother," Savage said softly. "Pain will feed his strength as well."

"Not if it's the wrong kind of pain, Savage," Maul said, glancing down at Satine. "Not if it's the kind that cripples the will to take action." Both he and Savage suddenly looked up as tension grabbed their chest, and the room appeared to fall darker, though none of the lights had been extinguished. A faint breeze began to blow, though there were no windows open, no doors through which it could enter, light at first, and than with such force that the roaring flames in the brasiers along the long hall threatened to be put out. For a moment, it seemed like the ground was shaking, the walls seeming to quiver as a long, low roar reverberated in the air. Without warning, the large doors of the throne room were torn off their hinges and thrown into the room, the heavy wood striking and killing several of the room's occupants in an instant and injuring many others. The roar became deafening as they caught sight of an enormous white rancor, its long, mighty arms extended upwards as it howled, absorbing blaster fire as if it was nothing and swiping at the remainder of Maul's forces as they tried to fight the beast. More frightening than that was the man in Mandalorian armor swathed with black robes, a red lightsaber in his hand as he strode into the throne room with cold fury, his blond hair disheveled and his golden eyes glowing with violence.

_Kenobi_.

One fool in the room made the mistake of shooting at the man, the bolt effortlessly blocked, and a moment later, every single one of the criminals, Black Sun, Mandalorian, Hutt or otherwise, was raised into the air, the room running cold as the creatures writhed and choked. Maul quickly jumped to his feet, drawing his lightsaber as Savage did, and the brothers held the blade's to Satine's neck. Maul grinned wickedly when Kenobi's long stride toward them hesitated, the gold eyes registering concern for half a moment, but it was enough. It was over. Kenobi had _lost._

"I have found your _weakness_ ," Maul hissed, grinning as he watched the Sith Lord, the man standing frozen to the spot as the Force crushed the life out of the criminals in the air. Maul could feel the rage in the man, could see the yellow eyes focus as murderous intent gripped him, but it didn't matter. None of it mattered. "Imagine...a Sith Lord willingly _keeps_ a weakness!" Maul laughed harshly, could feel the sudden grip of the Dark Side close around him, but his own hatred held it off. Kenobi would not control him. Not here. Not today.

"Your army is destroyed," Kenobi began, his voice a low hiss strained with the promise of violence. "Those that remain will not come to you out of fear for _me_. Kneel now, and I'll make your death fairly painless." He needed time that he felt he did not have. Obi-Wan touched the Force to look for answers and recoiled from it swiftly as visions of fire flashed through his mind. He could feel the Force rushing through him, moving to do his bidding, and he felt his strength swell as each creature he held in the air died, their feeble presence in the Force fueling his own power. Fury rushed through him as he looked at the scene before him, the two brothers with their lightsabers dangerously close to Satine's neck, and Satine, _his_ Satine...

She didn't look afraid, or sad, or resigned. There was a confident smile on her face, her eyes bright as she looked upon him, and Obi-Wan felt concern grip his being. One wrong move, one misstep, and he would lose her, but as he looked upon her, he knew he could save her, just as she believed he would. He centered himself in the Force and felt... _nothing_. Just the flames, burning and raging around him. He had always obeyed the will of the Force, but now, when he needed its guidance the most, it was silent.

Maul began laughing, cold and hard, and he stepped forward, raising his hand as he did so, and Satine rose into the air, eyes wide for just a moment before they narrowed in defiance, her hands clutching at the invisible grasp around her slender neck. " _None_ of that matters," Maul snarled, his hand tightening as he felt Kenobi's grip on the Force waver, the bodies of the crime lords dropping to the ground as his focus was lost. "I languished for _years_ , thinking of nothing but _you_. _Nothing_ but this moment!" He pointed his lightsaber toward Kenobi, his red and black face contorted with rage, digging deep within himself at the memory of what the man before him had done, and he began _burning_ with power. He felt Kenobi simmering with rage as well, but it wasn't the blazing inferno that Maul currently commanded. It was dampened by concern for another, his thoughts more preoccupied with saving his lover and his child than with killing the Zabrak brothers. Maul scoffed. It was _love_ , a weakness shared by both the Duchess and the Sith Lord, and it was making his impending victory all the sweeter.

He couldn't pull her towards him, not while Maul held her. He couldn't attack Maul, not with his weapon drawn and so, so close to her. There was a great deal he _couldn't_ do, which made the way forward clear. Disrupt Maul's concentration and pull Satine toward him. After that, the rest would be easy, his queen and his son would be safe, and Maul and Savage would be _dead_ , two loose ends finally cut off. Obi-Wan could feel the Dark Side inside him laying in wait, tense and ready for the command from it's Master to be unleashed in its full fury. He was a nexus of Dark Side energy, an instrument of the Force's will, a friend and ally to the Dark Side. It would not abandon him now in his time of need. He dug deep and centered himself, brushing away the visions of flames that burned ever closer to him as he focused on Maul and Satine.

"Now," Maul growled, "the perfect tool for my vengeance is in front of us." He chuckled deeply, red and yellow eyes glowing with glee and premature victory, his hand tightening and Satine gasped, and Maul shivered as the Dark Side rushed through him when Kenobi's eyes narrowed on him. "I never planned on killing you," he hissed, his lightsaber raising, "but I will make you share my pain, _Kenobi_."

_Now_. Maul's focus in his triumph wavered as he turned to look at the Duchess, and Obi-Wan extended his hand, pale blue lightning shooting from his fingertips and arching toward the Zabrak, Maul turning as he felt the surge in the Force, and he lost his grip on Satine as the lightning struck his chest. Before she had dropped at all, Obi-Wan grabbed her and pulled her toward him, but she didn't get far. Maul barely registered the pain of the lightning, and as Kenobi pulled Satine toward him, the Zabrak spun around to face the Duchess, his red blade extended and his face lighting in sinister joy as the lightsaber impaled her, the blade pressing further into her as Kenobi tried futilely to pull her toward him.

He only registered what had happened when he saw his lover's eyes widen with shock and pain, and with a gasp, Obi-Wan swiftly let her go, the woman dropping from the air to be held up by Maul's blade, the burning red lightsaber extending out her back. With a satisfied chuckle, Maul deactivated his saber, and Kenobi swiftly pulled her toward him again, rushing forward to grab her from the air and he carefully lowered her to the ground. The Dark Side was screaming, thrashing against him and crying for revenge, but he felt none of it. All he could feel was the Force, alive with flames and quickly beginning to engulf him. He laid his hand on her stomach, the wide, burning hole gaping and bleeding through charred skin, and Obi-Wan could feel the life quickly drain out of her, the powerful pulse of the Dark Side within their son reduce to a faint murmur, and than nothing at all. He bit his lip and pushed past consuming rage to feel for the Force, begged it to come to his aid to heal her, but he had never learned the technique for healing others. That was a trick of the Jedi, and the Sith only cared for self-preservation. The Force answered him with flames that burned when he touched them, more agonizing than anything he had felt before.

But Satine was...calm. He could sense that the pain had left her, and she reached up with a shaking hand to cup his cheek, her thumb running over the fine hair of his beard, and a faint smile on her lips. Kenobi laid a hand over hers. "I'm sorry..." he whispered, his voice smooth and even despite the tightness in his chest and he could feel her tremble in his grasp.

"I will _always_ love you, my Obi-Wan..." she said faintly, her voice no louder than her shaking breath, and Kenobi felt her body relax, exhaling slowly as the last of her life left her. And then there was nothing. She was gone, and Obi-Wan felt nothing at all as the darkness snaked its way through him and extinguished the last of the light within him, the faint sobs of a voice deep within him being silenced for the last time.

It was... _disappointing_. Maul had returned to his throne to watch the culmination of his revenge, the single thing that had consumed his thoughts for over ten years, and it wasn't at all what he imagined. Kenobi hadn't screamed or cried or cursed or raved, he simply... _was_. He could feel no pain from Kenobi, no anguish, no hopeless despair. It was just... _nothing_. He couldn't sense him at all. "Do we kill him now?" Savage asked, his deep voice tight and anxious, and Maul simply shook his head, not sure what to do. It was over. His singular focus, his only plan, accomplished not with a victorious shout, but a whimper. Perhaps Kenobi was better off dead. That was reason enough to make him live.

"No," he finally said. "I want him to _drown_ in misery. He will, but not yet." He looked to Kenobi, his dead lover's hand in his as he gently kissed her fingertips. "He's in shock. I want him to realize that all of this was _his_ doing."

"Won't that make him more dangerous?" Savage asked, warily eying the Sith Lord as he bowed his head, his shoulders shaking in what Savage thought might be sobs, but he heard nothing, _felt_ nothing.

"Look at him, Savage. We could have killed him a hundred times over. He is _finished_." An icy chill suddenly blew through the room, and Maul shivered, his eyes darting to Kenobi, but the feeling hadn't come from him. He looked at Savage, but he was still eyeing the Sith Lord cautiously, and hadn't seemed to feel it. Maul closed his eyes and brought his fingers to his temple, pressing against it to ward off the headache he felt building deep in his mind. "I-I...sense a presence..." he stuttered, and Savage looked back at him, concern on his face.

"Is it Kenobi?" he asked, igniting his lightsaber, but Maul shook his head. "No, no, this is... _familiar_. A presence I haven't felt in a long time, I-" He gasped, eyes shooting open as his pupils dilated in fear as he looked to the open entrance of the throne room to see a hooded figure silhouetted against the light of Concordia, the man taking calm, easy steps to cross the long hall. " _Master_." Maul leapt from his seat and quickly strode past Kenobi to kneel before the Sith Master, head bowed reverently. "Master..." he said, his voice praising and adoring, and Sidious looked down upon him.

"I am most impressed to see you have survived your _failure_ ," Sidious growled, looking away from his former apprentice to look at Kenobi, Satine clutched tightly in his arms, and the Master frowned, calm settling over him as he felt a stab of anger at the death of what would be the future of his Empire, the future of the Sith. This _failure_ had unwittingly unraveled a piece of his carefully laid plans. The war would have to continue a while longer yet.

"I used your training, Master," Maul said swiftly, chancing a glance up to see Sidious looking away from him, his eyes focused on his apprentice. He pointed at Kenobi, a malicious grin on his face. "I _destroyed_ him! The fallen Jedi that bested me, I have corrected that mistake, all in hopes that I may be rejoined with you, my Master!"

Sidious scoffed. "How unfortunate that you are attempting to deceive me."

"Master?" Maul gasped, his tension mounting as he felt the Force pulling away from him, and as he tried to reach out to grab at it, he felt it flee from him faster.

"And you destroyed my apprentice, did you?" Sidious asked, a cruel smirk on his lips. "I believe that Darth Lumis has something to say about that."

Maul slowly looked behind him, and his eyes widened in fear as he saw Kenobi looking _right_ at him, his golden eyes seeming to be alight with flames, and the Dark Side flared around him like an out of control blaze. The Force was blown open before him, and while Maul couldn't sense him in the Force at all before, now he was overwhelmed by the power of his presence, staggered by the furious beauty of him that he physically hurt, felt himself compelled to kneel before him and _submit_. Maul looked over to see Savage doing _exactly_ that, bowing and whimpering before a greater power, and Maul only then realized the severity of his error. He had assumed Satine Kryze to be the Sith Lord's weakness, but it turns out that she was his _restraint_ , the only thing keeping him from reaching for the deepest levels of darkness that lay within him.

And Maul had killed that restraint.

Sidious began laughing, a cold and harsh thing that sent chills up Maul's spine. "You," Sidious rasped, "have become a _rival_!"

"Savage, _get up_!" Maul yelled, leaping to his feet in a panic and rushing toward his brother, only to have the Force slam into the two Zabraks and send them high into the air to be slammed against the windows that lined the walls, the thick glass cracking under the impact. As Maul struggled against the grip that held him, he could hear the other windows rattling, the stones of the palace walls seeming to shake under the tremendous pressure of the Force around them. He looked down, teeth grit in effort to look at Kenobi, his hands raised and his face contorted in violent wrath as he stood over his lover, the Force whipping around him like a storm and sending the dislodged doors, the dead gangsters, and anything that wasn't securely bolted down crashing against the walls, the bodies striking with bloody splats. All except Sidious, who stood laughing, his robes swaying slightly as if he stood in a gentle breeze, and Satine, cold and still and protected by her Sith Lord even now when she no longer needed it.

Suddenly, the Force released its hold, and Maul and Savage fell to the ground, quickly scrambling to their feet and igniting their lightsabers, focused on the Master and the Apprentice before them, and Maul felt his heart stop when Sidious' twin lightsabers slid into his hands, the red blades igniting to the sound of his malicious cackle. They had to run. They needed to escape again, and this time, never resurface again. Kenobi stepped beside his Master and ignited his lightsabers, and Maul gave up any hope of making it to an exit. They would have to fight. They called themselves Sith, and now, the brothers had a chance to prove it.

Sidious began laughing, his blades dragging on the ground to leave burning gashes in the stone as he spun and intercepted Maul's blade as the former apprentice lashed out to strike him. Savage rushed to flank him, but Sidious blocked it effortlessly. Maul had forgotten how fast his Master was, how athletic, how graceful, switching between effortless blocking and terribly dangerous slashes as he ducked, flipped and evaded every strike, like he saw them all coming, which, Maul supposed, he did. It wasn't going well. Sidious dictated the flow of battle, and Maul diverted his full attention to the Sith Master just to keep up with him.

He didn't see when Kenobi came from behind him and slashed down, and he only barely managed to turn quick enough to block it, the power of the strike knocking him off balance, and he was forced to fall back to avoid the furious cutting of the darksaber, pressing off with his hands to flip above Sidious' blades as the Master swept at him from below. He was forced to retreat quickly, nearly running backwards as Kenobi furiously pursued him, the red and black blades moving so fast it looked as though Kenobi had encased himself in a force field. Sidious rushed alongside Maul, occasionally lashing out at him, forcing him off balance, guiding him away from his only hope for escape. Savage followed swinging his saber at the Sith when he had the opportunity, but he was easily blocked and driven back by swift and brutal slashes.

Maul grabbed Savage and pulled him out of the way when a wicked strike arched down toward the Nightbrother's head, and with his brother beside him, Maul stood his ground, saber extended out before him, cringing when he heard Sidious laugh, his confidence withering when he felt Kenobi's blazing gaze upon him. "Darth Lumis," Sidious drawled, and the golden eyes shot to the Master. "Maul took something from you. I find it fitting you take something from him." He pointed his lightsaber at Savage. "Kill his brother first."

Maul glanced at Savage out of the corner of his eye, his large hands tightening on his lightsaber, and when Maul looked back at Sidious, Kenobi was _gone_. He looked around frantically for the man, and found him only when Savage howled in pain as Kenobi's darksaber plunged into his shoulder. With a cry of outrage, Maul rushed to help his brother as Kenobi drove the off balance man back, but was stopped when Sidious reached through the Force and pulled him backwards, forcing his former apprentice to face him. Maul realized that Sidious was toying with him, simply keeping the pressure on while Kenobi dealt with Savage. He repeatedly tried to break away so he could rush in to help his brother, but every time he changed directions, Sidious flipped before him, his dual blades crashing down to meet his, and Maul was forced to watch helplessly as Kenobi continued to drive Savage back.

It didn't take long for Kenobi to bring both blades down upon Savage, the much bigger man blocking both strikes with the dual ends of his lightsaber. Bearing down on the man, Kenobi deactivated his red blade, causing the pressure of the darksaber to flip the weapon vertically as Obi-Wan powered on his red blade again extending in time to cut Savage's weapon in half across the hilt. Allowing the momentum from the slash to carry through, he spun, his back to Savage as he caught both blades in a backhanded grip and followed through, lashing out with the blazing blades as they bit through Savage' body, severing him in half as green mist poured from the fatal wound.

Maul screamed in anguish and rushed to his fallen brother as Sidious cackled with laughter. It was... _cruel_. Unspeakably so, not in that Kenobi had killed him, but in that Kenobi had killed him in nearly the exactly way that he had slain Maul so long ago. Savage was dead by the time he got there, killed nearly instantly, he imagined, and he looked at his brother's face, so unlike how he had remembered him. He was... _smaller_ , his horns reduced, his features softer, his body less massive and hulking. He was...small. _Young_ , far younger than Maul had imagined. He never knew. He had never asked how he came to be, just accepted that he did. His transformation must have been the work of the Nightsisters, though Maul didn't understand why their magic didn't fade with their deaths.

"I don't believe that beast has the power to survive as you did, Maul," Sidious cackled, and Maul felt himself bristle with rage. With a howl of fury, he threw himself at the Master and the Apprentice, digging deep of the Dark Side and letting his wrath guide him. He swung at Kenobi, but the Sith easily blocked it, effortlessly ducked and dodged the onslaught until he suddenly disappeared. Maul's swing hit nothing, sending him off balance, and he quickly swung his weapon behind him when he felt a ripple in the Force. It was Kenobi, his sabers arching powerfully for only a moment before he disappeared again, only to attack from behind him once again. Maul's eyes widened in fear as he realized what was happening. Kenobi was using the Dark Side and the darkness around them to cloak his presence and attack from the shadows. Maul centered himself as much as he could, but he suddenly found that the Force was no longer his ally, abandoning him in his time of greatest need. It fled to the true Sith, and he could feel the tides turning against him as the Force began to bite back, just as his Master had always said could happen if someone pressed too hard, demanded too much of the Dark Side.

His blade clashed with Sidious' and he managed to press away just as Kenobi emerged from the shadows to his left, only to disappear a moment later. He rushed at his former Master, blade raised to strike him, but Kenobi flashed before him, and Maul skidded to avoid ploughing into the man. His blade slashed across past Sidious to try and catch Kenobi, and both Master and Apprentice ducked under the red weapon, blades extended and slashing upwards, severing both of Maul's cybernetic legs. His lightsaber was pulled from his hand as he fell by Sidious, the Master already having deactivated and stored his own lightsabers. Kenobi flicked his hand in the air, and Maul was grabbed in the tight hold of the Force and slammed against the high, vaulted ceiling. He was torn from there as well, striking the walls, the floor, the pillars that lined the hall until his head was spinning and his eyes unfocused. He finally came to a stop at Sidious' feet, slammed so hard against the floor that the fine stone cracked and crumbled beneath him.

With a whimper, he pushed up onto shaky arms and looked up at the two Sith Lords with bleary eyes. " _Mercy_ ," he whimpered weakly, his voice cracking, and Kenobi snarled viciously, his red saber angled over his shoulder and poised to strike, but Sidious put out a hand to stop him. Fury flashed across the Sith Lord's face, but Sidious remained calm and unafraid.

"Peace, Darth Lumis," he said softly. "There is only mercy in death. He took something from me as well, and I would see him _suffer_." Lightning shot from the Master's fingers and Maul began to scream, writhing as pain coursed through him and the sharp stumps of his legs scraped against the stone, leaving deep, long gouges. "We have other uses for him, Darth Lumis," Sidious said softly when Maul stilled, the Zabrak groaning in agony. "The least of which being a way to satisfy your thirst for revenge. We have unfinished business with the Nightsisters."

Lumis didn't say anything. He just bowed his head in subservience to his Master and turned and walked away from him, slowly making his way toward the throne where Satine lay nearby. He dropped to his knees beside her, reached out a shaking hand and stroked her cheek, her skin already cold to the touch. Her other cheek was cut, the surrounding area stained purple, and he shivered for a moment when he thought about what Maul did to her before he got there, how she may have suffered before she was so cruelly stolen from him. And their son, the child that died before he was named, may have been afraid too. They had just talked the night before about how he could hear them, had felt with his own hands that the child responded to his presence, could sense the feelings of his mother, was so strong in the Force that even his Master had been impressed.

Gone, all of it.

He didn't want to leave her here. There was a chance that Bo-Katan may yet live. If Satine had done as she said, if she had sent her sister out to search for Maul, than she may have escaped the carnage. Anger rushed through him suddenly. If she had been here, it may not have come to this. If she had been here...most likely she would be dead as well.

He didn't _feel_ sad, though he knew he was. He felt anger, cold and hard and sitting deep within him and just _waiting_ for a reason to take him over once again. He supposed he'd allow it. There was no thought involved when the Dark Side overtook him, no opportunity for him to look at the world and see ghosts all around him, as he knew he would, no visions from the traitorous Force to plague him, no images of flames and fire burning away _everything_ he loved...

He laughed softly, a cold, hollow thing as he touched the Force, opened himself to the visions he saw so often, and saw _nothing_. Only the blackened ruins of Sundari and his field of dead Jedi. Even the face in the flames was gone, and he felt deep inside him that the vision may have been metaphorical, not literal. It was _he_ that was burning, the flames of the Force overtaking him as it lashed out against him, bit back for something that he did not understand. The Force was his ally and his friend, and in his moment of need, the Force had abandoned him, had led him to this, had kept him from the visions necessary to stop it. _No_. There was no way this was the will of the Force. It _couldn't_ have been. He had seen visions of his son, visions of his future, all now stolen from him by a man that bent the Force to suit his own needs. The future was... _shifting_. He cleared the visions from his mind. They would only mislead him. Through the darkness, he could feel the tiniest thread of the Force, a warm, gentle pull of light that touched him, warm and comforting, and it _burned_. Hissing, he thrashed against the feeling, the raging Dark Side driving away the comforting embrace of the Force. He would have none of it. There was no place for sympathy among the Sith.

By now, Cody and Yoda and the 212th will have finished rooting out the city of the scum that conquered it. He'd send out a crew to look for Bo-Katan and get the rest of them to help bring Satine to the temple in the city where the past Mand'alors were entombed. And after that...it was irrelevant. He'd follow his Master to the conclusion of the Clone War and the rise of the Sith Empire, just as he had always intended to do. Just as he was always meant to do, but there would never be anyone else. No future queen, no children to follow in his wake. That part of him was dead and gone with the woman he loved. He learned his lesson well.

He looked at the pale face, committed it to his excellent memory, tuning out the sounds of Sidious torturing Maul behind him and the mournful wail of his rancor from across the city.

_I will always love you, my Obi-Wan_.

"And I you, my Satine. Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum."

_I'm alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, SO sorry, you guys. But I did warn you guys that this would get dark.


	81. New Path

Satine Kryze was dead. It was unthinkable, and yet it was. Not only was she dead, but Mandalore had been ravished, Sundari burned by a united efforts of the most dangerous criminal organizations in the galaxy, and with the death of the pacifist queen of the Neutral Systems, the protected empire fell apart. Bo-Katan Kryze, the late Duchess' younger sister, had not been on Mandalore at the time of the attack and had survived the execution of her Death Watch, and she was not one to do anything but exact consummate revenge on all those responsible for the death of the Mand'alor. Thousands of systems, including former Separatist and Republic worlds, were suddenly without leadership, and the war found them quickly. Within a day of the fall of Mandalore, the Separatists and the Republic were already fighting over the neutral worlds, sending the once peaceful planets into war-torn chaos. All hope for peace had died with Satine, and _everyone_ knew it.

Anakin had returned from his mission the morning after it had happened with news of his own. He had recovered one of the ships that had been stolen by Kenobi, though with this small victory came a great deal of failure. His infiltration team, with the exception of Admiral Tarkin and Commander Rex, was all dead, including Jedi Master Ki-Adi-Mundi, another Council member fallen at the hands of the Sith. Anakin reported that the Master had managed to kill one of the monestrous rancors that followed Kenobi into battle, but not the biggest one, and the Masters dreaded the thought of how many Jedi would die trying to kill that beast. Ki-Adi-Mundi was one of the best swordsmen in the Order, and even he could only kill one before he had perished.

But it wasn't all bad news. Anakin had brought home Jedi Master Saesee Tiin, who had been used as bait to lure the Jedi on to the trapped ship. It was true that trusting the Master was close to impossible, given what they knew Kenobi was capable of, but having him back in one piece was a relief, a breath of much needed confidence that they could rally behind. And what was more, Master Tiin had _information_ , and a great deal of it. True, it couldn't be trusted, but as he stood before him, his hands clasped tight in front of him and his head bowed, they had a difficult time believing that their friend had been broken.

"They call it _what_?!" Mace had gasped, staring wide eyed at the Iktotchi, and Master Tiin raised his head and looked straight at him, completely unamused.

"The rancor is called Yoda, and Kenobi _loves_ that beast." Saesee groaned and rubbed his head. He hadn't been there for long, and while Anakin had finished his report, he sensed that the young Knight was troubled and searched for guidance. Interrogating him could wait, and he wasn't to be trusted in any case. "I don't believe Skywalker is done, Masters," he snapped, his patience long since gone for having been in Sith custody for nearly a year. Anakin looked surprised for a moment, but it quickly melted away into gratitude, and he bowed.

"Thank you, Master." Anakin chewed on his lip as he looked over to Qui-Gon. He was silent, and had been all morning, and if his eyes weren't closed, he was staring off into space at nothing, or something very, very distant that only he could see. Anakin knew that look. It was the same expression his Master used to get when he thought about Obi-Wan so long ago when he thought he was dead. Before they knew he was alive. Before they knew he was _Sith_. Anakin could use his guidance right about now, but it didn't seem like he could count on it at this moment. Perhaps something had happened. Perhaps he wouldn't say what it was before the Council. Skywalker would make certain to seek him out later, after the Council had been dismissed.

"The Force spoke to me," Anakin said softly, slowly, wincing when he realized how stupid it sounded, how arrogant it made him seem. "On the mission. I felt it, over and over again that it was the day that Obi-Wan would die. But...he's not dead. He escaped."

"Escaped to Mandalore, no doubt," Luminara said softly, her voice laced with sympathy for her old friend.

"Maybe he died on Mandalore," Kit Fisto suggested, and Quinlan Vos glared at him like he was the stupidest creature in the galaxy.

"Of course he isn't dead," Vos snarled, his hands tightening into the hem of his robes. "You think the underworld can bring Kenobi down when an entire Order of Jedi can't?" He scoffed. "Obi-Wan isn't going down because of any of us, and he sure as hell wouldn't suffer such an undignified death at the hands of the galaxy's riffraff. Trust me, he's alive."

"He isn't,' Qui-Gon muttered, and Anakin breathed a sigh of relief to hear his Master. Qui-Gon looked up, his deep blue eyes filled with pain, his face lined with sadness. "You were right, Kit. Obi-Wan died on Mandalore with Satine. We're left with something _far_ more dangerous." Master Jinn frowned as he looked around the room. "Surely I'm not the only one who felt it. This isn't just a disturbance in the Force, it is being torn apart."

"I felt it," Vos said quickly, "but I didn't know what _it_ was. I thought it was the end of Mandalore."

"I thought it was Ki-Adi-Mundi's death," Plo Koon said sadly to the quiet murmurs of ascent from the other Jedi. "When Skywalker told us he was dead, I was certain that was the disturbance I felt."

"I thought it was just the usual," Luminara said softly. "Every single day, this war brings new horrors to us, new tragedies that shake the Force to its foundations. Every day, a new disturbance. But..." She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "I admit, this one was different."

"It seems like we all felt it," Qui-Gon said. "We're all right. The disturbance was caused by all of it, but what I felt was the same thing I felt the day we thought Obi-Wan died on Serenno. But this...it was much stronger."

"You think he's fallen further?" Mace asked in disbelief as he laid back and shook his head. "I don't see how that's possible."

"It's possible," Luminara, Quinlan and Qui-Gon said in unison, and Mace bit his lip and looked at the ground.

"It's no mistake that so many of us have fought him and lived," Qui-Gon said firmly. "He's been holding back, he has _always_ been holding back. We've been able to reason with him in the past, and he's stayed his blade with me on more than one occasion."

"Many of us have been safe from him because he's maintained his attachments from his time as a Jedi," Luminara added. "He could have killed me on the _Tranquility_ , but he stopped when I was defeated. I always felt my old friend inside him. He was darker, yes, and much changed, but _still_ Obi-Wan."

"And he loved that girl of his," Vos said softly, sadly, as if he had suffered the loss as well. "Even when he was a Jedi, he loved her. Love isn't a thing of the Dark Side, and if he's now lost that, if that was his only tether to the light..." Quinlan shivered when he felt a chill rush through him, the darkness within him stirring at the thought, and he bit down on the inside of his cheek as he repressed the feeling. This wasn't the place for it. "Qui-Gon's right. Obi-Wan lost the love of his life and the unborn child they made together. He's gone."

Anakin couldn't explain it, but he felt a sudden pull of sympathy for the Sith Lord. In many ways, he and Obi-Wan were different sides of the same coin, and far, _far_ more similar than he ever cared to admit. They both shared a love of flying, both stood as vergences in the Force, both were trained by Qui-Gon Jinn, both loved women that they had been assigned to protect, and in the course of the mission, had fallen in love with their charges. A shiver ran through Anakin. They had shared _so_ many similarities, and he couldn't help but wonder for a moment if, perhaps, they didn't stand as opposites, but were simply on the same path. Was he destined to fall as Kenobi had? Was he in danger of losing Padmé as cruelly and suddenly as Obi-Wan had lost Satine?

He wasn't sure what would happen if he lost the girl he loved. Vos had the right of it. Love was not a feeling born from the Dark Side, but like anything else, feelings could be warped and twisted by doubt and fear and jealousy and darkness. He had been jealous of Obi-Wan in the past for the lust he inspired in Senator Amidala, still felt that jealousy sometimes now, a maddening thing that plagued him with thoughts and dreams of them _together_ , passionately entwined and maddening in its intensity. Anakin knew that it had never happened, but still, the thought plagued him and filled him with doubt and fear that maybe, just maybe, these weren't just dreams, but visions of things yet to come.

He shook his head to clear the thought. That would never happen. Darkness was all around him, and it was misleading his thoughts, making him feel his dreams were something more when they weren't. But if he had _lost_ Padmé, were he to lose her forever as Obi-Wan had lost Satine, he wasn't sure how he would react. Anakin felt his attachments deeply, and did not cope well with loss. He was still angry about the death of his mother, still thought of her and _ached_ , though the burning need for revenge had long since abated. He had always strove to protect the ones he loved and was shaken when he had failed to protect his mother. If he failed to protect Padmé too...

He could understand how such a loss could kill a man.

"Are you certain he isn't dead?" Mace asked quietly. "I mean, _actually_ dead. Everyone that was present who saw Duchess Satine die are dead themselves."

"And who do you suppose did that, _Mace_?" Vos growled, and Qui-Gon reached out to put a calming hand on the Kiffar's shoulder.

"I'm sure," Jinn said softly. "Obi-Wan and I have always been connected. I felt him die. I felt everything that he used to be wither away. It's a painful thing to feel another's soul be torn from them, but I _felt it_. Obi-Wan is dead, and when I reached out to him, the Dark Side pushed back. He's alive. He just...isn't Obi-Wan anymore."

Again, Anakin felt the pull of compassion. Had Satine worried for Kenobi's safety the way Padmé had worried for his? Were they together before she died? Did she blame him? Did he blame himself? It made the idea of killing the former Jedi easier. It would be a mercy to release him from that pain, but Anakin knew that it was that same pain that would make him stronger and far, far more dangerous than he had been. And _that_ was a frightening thought.

"This changes nothing," Windu said quickly. "We all knew we were dealing with a Sith Lord, and he's already done his work to tear the Order apart. Our stance on him still stands. Skywalker will hunt him down."

"With all due respect, Master Windu," Luminara said, a bit colder than she usually spoke, "this changes _everything_. Before, we at least had an idea of what we are dealing with, but if Qui-Gon is right and everything that was Obi-Wan is finally dead, than we have no idea of what sort of darkness has been unleashed." She shook her head. "Rushing in will only get more people killed. We need to find out what he's capable of."

"And how do you suppose we do that?" Mace asked, and Luminara smiled slightly.

"We just had a Jedi returned to us that spent nearly a year in his custody."

Saesee Tiin looked at her like she was crazy. "You can't trust anything I say, Masters. He may have influenced me without my knowledge."

"Do you think you've been influenced?" Qui-Gon asked softly, and the Iktotchi looked away, his clasped hands tightening.

"I don't think he's altered my memories, no. But Eeth Koth believed his story as well."

"Listen to what you have to say, we will," Yoda said softly, the first words he had spoken in _many_ meetings carrying all the more weight for his previous silence. "Judge their worth, we will, after your truth, we hear."

It was enough. He took a deep breath and shifted from foot to foot as he struggled to find where to begin. "...he's been in my mind," he growled, teeth grit and hands clenching as he fought back his rising anger. "I was always aware of it, he _wanted_ me to be. Even if you resist, he can make you kneel."

"And you submitted to him?" Quinlan asked, straining to keep the interest out of his voice, and felt a wash of relief when it came across as simple concern.

"No. I mean..." he growled and looked away. " _Yes_. Though I don't remember those times. He always told me later about the times I..." He swallowed hard, his chest tight. "About the times I called him _Master_." He felt sick, and there was a bad taste in his mouth just from saying it, and the Masters in the room seemed to pick up on his disgust. He was telling the truth, and the more they listened, the more they felt him, the more they believed that Kenobi _hadn't_ tampered with him. Still, they needed to be cautious.

And he told them everything. About the physical torture he endured at the hands of Cody, the clone second in command to the Sith, about the mental torture Kenobi subjected him to, about the vicious horned rancor Yoda, a beast that Obi-Wan was mentally connected to. But worst of all was news about Shaak Ti, the Master presumed dead after the Battle of Kamino. How she had chosen, or was _made_ to choose the Sith, how she was used as a pleasure slave to Kenobi's clone, how the Sith had tortured the Iktotchi with the knowledge of the Togruta's willing corruption. Saesee Tiin insisted that she was beyond saving, which was difficult to hear, but they believed it. If it was true. They sat in silence when Tiin had finished speaking, the Iktotchi Master staring at the ground with his fists clenched as he attempted to suppress his emotions, and the Council didn't know what to believe.

"Do you know where he took you?" Qui-Gon asked softly, and Tiin shook his horned head.

"I'm sorry, Masters. I never saw anything but the inside of my cell."

"All of this is irrelevant..." Anakin said softly. "The problem now is we think he's changed, and without Mandalore, we have _no_ way of finding him before he finds us."

"We have a way," Vos said, looking up with a wicked gleam in his eye. "We have someone who knows him better than anybody." He flashed a broad grin at the silent, attentive Masters. "Asajj Ventress."

* * *

" _No_!" Ventress cried, suddenly pulling away from Vos as they began to climb the stairs up to the entrance of the Jedi Temple. With the quick reflexes of a Jedi Master, Quinlan grabbed her arm and tried to pull her up. She wouldn't move.

"Come on, Ventress, you said you'd help!"

"That was _before_ we got here!" she growled, prying at fingers that wouldn't budge. "That was _before_ I saw your Temple Guards _right up there_ , and _before_ I thought about how _stupid_ I was to agree to this!"

"It isn't stupid!" Vos sighed, giving the woman a tug, but she held firm. She was _not_ moving. "Remember what you get out of this! A full pardon! You'll be safe in the Temple, the Council has given their word!"

"What the hell does the word of a Jedi mean to me?!" It turns out that it meant a lot, but it depended on the Jedi. She trusted Qui-Gon Jinn, her friend Obi-Wan's old Master, though she could not say exactly why. And she trusted Quinlan, the Jedi that had stood up for her when she was accused of bombing the Temple. Even when it looked like exonerating Ventress would condemn his Padawan, Vos had done it. He had stood beside her when it mattered most, when the Jedi had already decided her guilt, and it made her...

She shook her head to clear the idea. There were _emotions_ between them. Strong ones. Deep ones, made deeper by mutual respect, enough for her to become physical with him. Enough for her to want to be intimate with him, if she could find it within her to allow it to happen. Which she hadn't. Really, given his reputation, it was a marvel to her that the overly-flirtatious Quinlan Vos _hadn't_ tried to seduce her. Nothing beyond their teasing banter, anyway, which made her believe that he was felling something as well. Something that was new, foreign, and it _frightened_ him. Learning the Dark Side to bring about a swift end to the war was one thing, but breaking the Jedi Code by acting on emotions dangerously close to what could have been love may have been too much for the Jedi.

And if the Jedi Masters _felt_ the emotions between them...

Ventress shivered. She'd be in trouble again. The word of the Jedi would mean nothing if they felt she was leading one of their own down a dark path.

"They just need to ask you a few questions!" he insisted. "We're at a loss and we need your help! _Please_!"

She growled, her fists clenching, and she reeled on him, pointing a finger in his face. "Listen, _you_. I do this, and we are _even_ on the whole Temple bombing thing, alright?!"

"Alright, alright!" Quinlan cried, releasing her and throwing his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "I wasn't even keeping score! This is just what friends do!"

"We are _not_ friends _!_ " she snarled, striding past him and taking the stairs two at a time. The Kiffar easily kept pace with her.

"Fine. _Partners_ , then." Ventress tripped over the next step, and quickly recovered, her pale face blushing furiously. She didn't know what to say. So she didn't. She scooted closer to Quinlan as they passed through the Temple doors, and she could feel the eyes of the masked guards upon her. Once inside, the Temple was full of younglings and initiates carrying books or chasing after Knights, but they paid her no mind. Ventress hadn't been expecting that, but to the young Jedi, she was just another Force sensitive, maybe another Knight returned from the war. They didn't recoil from her like some monster like those that knew of her did, and for a moment, she felt her chest ache with a sense of belonging. She was by no means meant to be there, nor did she wish to be a part of it, but she felt...safe.

They entered the elevator and waited in silence, Quinlan shifting from foot to foot and casually whistling, and Ventress couldn't help but smirk. Vos was a restless spirit, despite his casual ease, and silence wasn't something he did well with. He was a Jedi that would rather meditate in a crowded bar than in a silent room, would rather feel deep than not feel at all, and while it wasn't exactly conducive to fitting in with the Jedi Council, it _was_ what made for a good person. An _interesting_ person. She kept Quinlan around because he was _interesting_ , and wandering the galaxy alone had been boring. Even with all the inconvenience, her time with Quinlan Vos had been... _enjoyable_.

The elevator opened, and they strode out together, and within a few moments, Vos had pushed the doors of the Council Chamber open, and the two walked in. Quinlan immediately took his seat, and Ventress, arms crossed over her chest, stood at the edge of the circle and refused to come closer, the Masters gripping their chairs with white-knuckled hands, the tension in the room thick and palpable. Qui-Gon had risen and bowed to her, and Ventress looked away, her ears burning with embarrassment. She would _not_ bow back. Not even a little. Looking at the old Master out of the corner of her eye, she growled, and slightly inclined her head.

"Welcome, Ventress," Qui-Gon said kindly. "You are welcome to come in."

"I'm just fine right here, thank you," she said coldly, much more than she intended, but Qui-Gon didn't seem to mind as he took his seat.

"Quinlan has told you of our deal, yes?" he asked, and she nodded sharply.

"I tell you about the Sith, and you get me a full pardon." It _wasn't_ ideal, but there wasn't anything she could tell them that they couldn't find out on their own. It had been a calculated risk, but being able to wander Coruscant without fear of the Jedi meant that she could keep to the higher levels of the city, places that were more closely guarded by the Jedi, and by doing so, place distance between herself and the Sith Lords that may still want her dead. "And do I still get this pardon if I _can't_ answer your questions?" she asked slyly, and Jinn smiled at her.

"Yes. Though you must try." Ventress nodded, and he began. "There was a disturbance in the Force last night. Did you feel it?"

"There is a disturbance in the Force _every_ night." she growled. "Every day. Every _second_. The Force is just _disturbed_ , and your war is the cause of it."

"It isn't _our_ war," Mace growled, and he was met by a hiss of disapproval from a dark haired female Jedi. Ventress looked at her cautiously. She had to have been present before, but she didn't remember her.

"Your obstinance is what nearly got you killed on Haarun Kal," Master Billaba said firmly. "You would do well to listen. Her perspective is...a new one." Windu grumbled, but said nothing else. Ventress frowned. She _had_ felt the disturbance last night, she _had_ heard about the attack on Mandalore, and she knew _exactly_ what it was. But she wasn't about to tell them that. Obi-Wan suffered. The last thing he needed were the Jedi.

Qui-Gon sensed her reluctance and sighed softly. This may not work after all. "The Force is in pain, and it's origin is Obi-Wan Kenobi."

"No," she said quickly, and the Masters looked at her curiously.

"No?" Luminara repeated, and Ventress glared at her.

" _No_. You brought me here to talk about the Sith, not Obi-Wan. I won't help you fight him."

"If you fear him-"

" _I don't_." It was firm and final and left no room for questioning. "If he was going to kill me, than he would have, and I don't want to give him a reason to come looking. Obi-Wan is... _used_ to be my only friend. I betrayed him, he never betrayed me. I will not help you kill him."

"Ventress," Quinlan said softly, and she could feel herself tremble, but kept her feelings hidden behind strong defenses. " _Please_. You know what happened. Everyone does. Satine is dead, and we need to know what this will do to Obi-Wan."

"How should I know!"

"Because you're his friend! You've been his friend, you know him as a Sith, and we only knew him as a Jedi." Vos took a deep breath to still his pounding heart. "Please. Everyone could be in danger. Even you."

Vos was right, and Ventress knew it. Obi-Wan had loved his Duchess, treasured her above nearly all else, but not above the Sith. With her gone, all that would be left for him was the Dark Side, and Ventress knew what a dangerous path that was. Obi-Wan was powerful and grew stronger all the time, but Ventress knew that what he had accomplished, what he could do, was not nearly close to the potential with him, and it was the woman that gave him a reason not to dig deeper. She shivered, and she could do nothing to hide it from the Jedi. She was afraid, and they could all see it.

"You can't beat him," she whispered. "You can't. You need to keep far away, you need to _run_."

"Can we bring him back to us?" Luminara asked swiftly, and Ventress laughed harshly.

"You couldn't bring him back before. What makes you think that you could bring him back now when pain is all he knows?"

"You came back," Vos said softly, almost affectionately. "You traveled into darkness, you saw how it nearly destroyed you, and you turned away from it. Maybe he will realize the same thing, that there is only pain on that path."

Was it possible? She didn't think so. Ventress shook her head. "I'm telling you, he will not return. You want to know about Kenobi, but you're asking questions I can't answer! Questions I _won't_ answer," she growled, tapping her foot on the ground impatiently.

"How about this one," Kit Fisto asked, clasping his hands together and leaning forward, the short cut tentacles on his head wiggling. "Where is his base of operations?"

"You know the Separatist capital is on Raxus, he-"

" _His_ base," Fisto emphasized, and Ventress shifted uncomfortably.

"...Dooku is Count of Serenno, so-"

" _Kenobi's_ base." She glared at the Jedi Master, her mouth pressed in a thin line, her body tense and her shielding up.

"We need to know," Luminara said gently. "If we're going to beat him-"

"There _is_ no beating him," Asajj snarled. "I see what you're trying to do, and it's idiotic. Don't attack him in his home. Don't try to lure him out. Don't even go looking for him. You want to beat him? _Fine_. End the war. Kill Dooku. It's your safest bet, and the quickest way to winning the war." She grinded her teeth together as she looked at the Masters, some of their faces hard, but most seemed to be listening. "You don't know what Obi-Wan has become. _I_ don't know what he has become, we all just know that he's become _something_. You'll learn soon enough. Don't give him lives to take, make him work for it."

"I think that's sage advice," Qui-Gon said softly. "And I'm not sure I condone going after him like this. What we're talking about seems dangerously close to murder."

"It isn't," Mace said firmly. "It's putting down a dangerous threat, a rabid animal."

" _Animal_?" Qui-Gon gasped, his voice rising with shock. "We are talking about a man who has lost _everything_ , and he is so connected with the Force that it _rended_ for him. That isn't insignificant. We can't meet that kind of pain with violence, we wouldn't dream of it if it was anyone else!"

"But it _isn't_ anyone else, Master Jinn, it's a _Sith_. Even you say that Obi-Wan is dead. Tell me, what is it we're left with?" Qui-Gon didn't know how to answer that. He didn't know. With a sigh, he hung his head, defeated, his long fingers rubbing his temples as his eyes closed.

"Perhaps I'm too close to this..." Qui-Gon said softly. "Let the Council decide their course, and I will follow my own. As I have always done."

Mace frowned. "I think it's time to consider options we haven't before. With the fall of the Neutral Systems, the fighting has intensified. There was at least hope for peace before. Those who were sick of fighting had somewhere to go, but now, all Mandalore craves is revenge, and the entirety of Satine's empire has become disputed territory. There is no end to this war, it's a bottomless pit. We know how to end it. All of this, _all_ of it, can be traced back to Dooku and Kenobi."

"This isn't something we don't already know, Mace," Vos drawled, and Mace's features hardened.

"Without Dooku, the Separatist movement collapses. Without Kenobi, the Jedi will no longer be under direct attack. Without them, the movement will eat itself trying to take their place, and this war will end. Cut off the head, and the body will fall."

"Are you _insane_?" Luminara asked, leaping to her feet and looking at the Master in disgust. "You're talking about assassination?" Mace didn't move. Nobody did. "We need to find another way. This _isn't_ possible, not for a Jedi."

"To the Dark Side, such actions lead," Yoda said softly, but the Grandmaster looked tired, conflicted, nearly defeated, and Luminara could feel herself tighten. Yoda was considering this.

"Nobody wants to behave like a Sith Lord," Mace said, backtracking a bit.

"Few do. A small step, the one that determines destiny often is," Yoda said, and Luminara nodded fervently.

"Look what happened to Obi-Wan. His fall was a slow one, but his first step into the Dark Side was well-intended. He wished to save Qui-Gon, and he reached into darkness to do it."

"How many times has this Council sat here and talked about Kenobi and Dooku? How _everything_ leads back to the Sith? Hundreds of times, I'd wager. Dooku isn't going to change, and if we don't change either, this war will rip the galaxy apart until there is nothing left but dead worlds. We're the only ones that can stop this."

"This is _exactly_ what drove Barriss to the Dark Side!" Luminara snapped, a rare case of her losing her temper shocking the Jedi into silence. "We cannot be like them, we cannot lose our way!"

"I think one man's life needs to be weighed against the billions that will die if the war continues," Quinlan said. "As Jedi, we're _failing_ each day we allow this pointless war to continue. We have the power to stop it. We just need the courage to."

"Qui-Gon," Luminara said desperately. " _Help_."

"They're already resolved, my friend," Jinn aid sadly. "The Sith must be stopped, but I don't know how. Maybe the only way to do it is to behave in a way the Sith will not expect."

"Grows, this darkness does," Yoda said sadly, "with each minute Dooku continues to attack. With each minute Kenobi grows stronger. Stop them, we must. Survive, the Jedi must, or lost, this galaxy is."

Nobody offered any further opposition. Even Luminara sat, her head bowed sadly. "Quinlan Vos," Mace said quietly, and the Kiffar looked up. "You have already been preparing for this."

"I have," he said firmly. "And I'm ready. I just need a partner. I can't do this alone."

"I'll go," Ventress said, and she hadn't realized she had said anything until she felt the eyes of the Council on her, and the shocked, grateful stare of Quinlan. She bit down on her lip and looked at the floor, growling in irritation. "You Jedi can't do this," she said, her voice haughty as she crossed her arms. "And nobody knows Dooku like I do. If you are serious about this, than you will need me."

"Yes..." Vos said softly, and Ventress found that she couldn't look at him. Instead, she reeled on Mace Windu.

"But I want that pardon! Not after it's done, _now_. I don't want to be hunted by the Jedi if I come back and the mission failed." She scoffed. " _If_ I come back..."

"We can arrange that," the Korun said, taking a deep breath of resignation.

"I'll talk to Anakin about Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said softly. "Are we still under the impression that Anakin is the one to face him?" Mace nodded. "Then we need to find him first. I hear Admiral Tarkin proved himself admirably on the last mission. We'll see if Anakin can put him to use again."

"I thought you were against this," Luminara said, tension in her voice that came from repressed emotion that she couldn't quite force down.

"I am," Qui-Gon said softly. "We need to see what sort of a man Darth Lumis is. I don't think we've faced him before, and I think it's unwise to stand against him without proper planning. Anakin needs to train for it, in any case. Give me time to see what I can find while he hones his skills. If any part of Obi-Wan is still alive, I need to know."

"You can't save him, Qui-Gon," Mace cautioned, and Jinn nodded sadly as he stood to leave.

"I know. But regardless of how far he has fallen, the man has lost the woman he loves and his child. I cared for Satine as well, and at the very least, he should know he does not mourn them alone." He closed his eyes and felt, deep within him, the small, thin thread of darkness, the connection between himself and his lost Padawan angrily throb and pulse with pain. He couldn't reach him, not since he had tried last night, not since the connection had been slammed shut on Kenobi's end, and the channel _had_ to be reopened. Obi-wan's path was dark, Darth Lumis' even darker, and Qui-Gon needed to do anything he could to save him from at least some of that pain. He was owed compassion, and Qui-Gon wouldn't be the one to deny it.


	82. Lumis

"Kenobi."

The man didn't answer. He rarely did. Sure, he spoke. Sometimes. When necessary. But never when addressed, and always in short, harsh commands. Sometimes, if he was very, _very_ lucky, Kenobi would answer questions, but only if the answers were short. The flippant, easy drawl, the insufferable teasing, the good humor, the sharp sarcasm was all gone. Maybe it would be different around others, but Dooku didn't see it. Among his fellow Sith, Kenobi no longer had anything to hide, so he didn't. He wore no mask, maintained no defenses, allowed the Dark Side to rage through him without restraint, and the Count was beginning to miss the arrogant front and the attempt the naturally solitary man had made to be sociable.

"Kenobi."

Still, nothing. Dooku frowned. They stood together in his palace on Mustafar in the long, elegant living room, the younger man standing at one of the large windows that looked out over the flowing lakes of lava, the glow illuminating his expressionless face in red light. Sidious was coming, the first time they will have seen their Master since he had come to his apprentice's aid on Mandalore nearly a week ago. They _did_ speak to their Master everyday via holocommunication, but the meetings were short, more for the purpose of checking in than anything else. Sidious needed to monitor the changes in his apprentice, after all. The tide of the Force had shifted, and their Master needed to know how best to fit in this new beast the Dark Side had given him.

" _Kenobi_."

He was met with silence. Dooku hadn't left Kenobi's side since he had heard what had happened, and Kenobi hadn't left Mustafar since Sidious dragged him away from Mandalore. He wasn't there out of sympathy for the man, though Dooku did keenly feel the loss of Satine. There was no room for coddling in the Sith, and he knew the pain of it all would only make Kenobi stronger. No, he was there for _solidarity_. Before, they had planned to overthrow Sidious together, and the success of their most recent alliance was not worth destroying over something like this. But now, that plan to kill their Master was compromised. His reasons for murder had been robbed from him with the death of his family, and with no child to protect, no woman to keep safe, no legacy to defend, all that was left was the need to kill for power. However, Sidious had done away with that desire by securing Kenobi's loyalty by arriving on Mandalore to help him avenge Satine and the young apprentice that never was.

"Obi-Wan."

It was as if he hadn't even heard him. Dooku frowned, and leaned down to examine the man's face, careful not to get too close. More often than not, Kenobi lost himself within the Force, so much so that the Dark Side would open up wide, take the Sith's body in its greedy hands and assume control of the willingly empty vessel. There was no talking to him then, and during those times, it was best to avoid him, but this wasn't it. He was present within himself, though just barely. The first few nights, Kenobi had gotten so staggeringly drunk that Dooku had to carry the intoxicated Sith Lord to his bed, but his inebriation made him have nightmares and visions so violently vivid that he was ripped from alcohol-induced unconsciousness in a state of such panic and rage that he had refused to go back to sleep. It became easier to retreat into the Force and allow the Dark Side to take over. Kenobi didn't sleep anymore, not in the conventional sense. The Force regenerated him while it maintained ownership of his body.

"Obi-Wan!"

Dooku wondered if Kenobi blamed himself for what had happened. He would have looked, would have reached out to him to sense his emotions, but had tried such before, and it proved to be a frighteningly poor idea. Dooku had reached out, dipped his hand into the waters of Obi-Wan's mind, and was violently pulled underneath, endlessly downward into consuming darkness until he thought he could not breathe. The calm, cool waters of the Dark Side were violent and raging, filled with riptides and currents and Obi-Wan stood in the center of it as a vortex, and when Dooku had come too close, he was caught in the pull and could not escape, felt himself torn apart and consumed by a storm that was swiftly swept away by the raging flames of an inferno that couldn't be stopped. It took every effort of his own talent in the Force to rip himself away from Kenobi's grasp, a pull that the young Sith inadvertently exerted. His defenses were down, and looking inside him led only to darkness and ruin. Dooku decided that doing so in the future was...ill-advised.

" _Obi-Wan_!"

It was the hardest he had tried to talk to the Sith Lord since his stay on Mustafar. Mostly, Dooku just watched him work, fascinated by the ingenuity that was brought about by creatively cruel applications of the Dark Side on other living creatures. Most of those beings were infants, Twi'leks, for the most part, long term projects of his that had finally come to fruition and were ready to be tested upon, which he did without emotion or remorse. Perhaps he would have been gentler if he had come to be a father himself, but...that seemed like an unlikely outcome. But now, they needed to talk. Dooku had seen enough to understand what had become of Obi-Wan Kenobi, knew that the death of Satine had left the young Sith with an insatiable craving for darkness. There was a concern before that the tragedy would ruin him, but that was quickly shown to be unfounded. Kenobi _was_ the Dark Side, and without love to hold close, his arms were free to fully embrace the destiny laid out before him. The first few days after saw Kenobi try to drown the pain, but it was quickly abandoned for embracing the pain instead. He felt it deeply, often, allowed it to fuel him, felt every pulse of anger deep in the heart of him, and shied from none of it. He was, after all, a Lord of the Sith. No less was expected of him.

" _Lumis_!"

Golden eyes shot to him, blazing and furious, and Dooku choked on his breath. Now that he had his attention, he didn't know what to say, and his hesitation angered the already wrathful lord, his mouth curling up into a disdainful sneer.

" _What_."

"What are your plans?" Dooku asked swiftly, and the edge of Lumis' furious eyes twitched in irritation.

"The fruition of the Sith Imperative, what else is there?" he snapped, looking back out toward the lava, and Dooku watched a shiver run through the man's body, though his impassive face didn't seem to register it. The final twitching of a dead man, nothing more.

"We had _plans_ ," he began through clenched teeth.

"Foolish plans," Lumis said, almost distant, as though he were fading away into the Force. "I'm not strong enough to be the Sith Master, I will _never_ be strong enough." Dooku sighed. It was pointless to press the issue. When it had mattered most, all of Obi-Wan's strength had amounted to nothing, and nothing could convince him otherwise. Dooku wouldn't have tried to tell him such anyway. That rage made him powerful, and it was derived from a deeper pain than his betrayal by the Jedi. What's more, the wound was fresh, gaping and bleeding and with new pain came new power.

Lumis' face twisted with rage when he heard a pitiful whimper from behind him, and both he and Dooku turned to see Yoda, the large creature laying upon his belly on the floor and chewing on the twisted cybernetic legs of Maul, the creaking and groaning of metal bending and twisting drifting through the air as the powerful teeth gnawed at them. The former Sith wriggled on the synthetic hips on which he was mounted, trying weakly to get away, a meek cry uttered from his parched throat when the rancor laid his large claws on the red and black arms to still him. With a snarl of fury, Darth Lumis stalked from the window, his hand extended before him, and Maul's body hitched, heaving as he gasped for air. Dooku stood back and watched as the predator tortured the captured Zabrak. It wasn't wise to get between the Sith Lord and what he considered his. Lumis didn't restrain any of his rage, allowing it to come and go in sudden, crashing waves, and it made him unpredictable and dangerous, and Maul was _always_ at the end of his wrath.

He crouched down in front of the prone Zabrak, his hateful eyes roaming over the pitiful creature, his lithe black and red torso slick with the rancor's thick saliva and his own blood from deep cuts accidentally left by Yoda's sharp, jagged teeth. Lumis growled in disgust. " _Look at me_." With a pained whimper, Maul did as he was told. He _always_ did. In the beginning, he had been boasting in his anger and his pain, had bragged about what it felt like to kill two lives with one stroke, had detailed the pleasure he had felt as Kenobi watched his lover fall. But it hadn't lasted long, and Maul had been left a broken mess of his former self. Sidious had never been so cruel. Sidious wanted an apprentice, so a level of refined care was given to his torture. Lumis wanted no such thing. He just wanted Maul to live a long, _long_ life in his gentle hands.

" _Mercy_ ," the Zabrak whimpered, flinching when the Sith's eyes narrowed in rage. "Mercy, Master, please..."

" _Mercy_." Lumis scoffed. "There is no _mercy_ , is there?" When the Zabrak moved to beg again, the Sith lashed out and struck him across the face, his hand catching on the sharp cranial horn just in front of his ear and tearing a rough, bleeding gash across his palm. Lumis didn't seem to notice, and certainly didn't register any pain. His eyes drifted to Maul's left arm, the appendage being pinned by the heavy weight of the happily gnawing rancor's claw, and slowly looked to the Zabrak's hand, the thick flesh at the base of his thumb scarred with the deep imprint of Satine's teeth. Lumis drank deep of the Force as he felt rage rush through him. He had made Maul tell him all that had happened, all he had done before he got there. He wanted to hear it, _needed_ to hear it all, would never, _ever_ forget, and he would keep it close, an easy way to stoke the flames of his rage when he felt he had nothing left to burn.

She had been fierce in her final moments. Satine was unafraid and bold and strong, Mandalorian until her very end, as close to Sith as a non-Force sensitive could be. Obi-Wan would have been proud. Lumis was simply furious that such a thing of beauty was stolen from him. He struck Maul again, frowned when he saw the bloody smear across the Zabrak's face, and looked coldly at his hand, the gash bleeding profusely. He hadn't noticed.

"I _do_ like it when you beg, slave," Kenobi said, his voice distant and removed, and Maul choked as he felt the golden eyes on him. "Even if it doesn't work. Begging _never_ works. But I _do_ like it."

Maul sobbed. They had been over this so many times, and he still didn't know the best course of action. If he said nothing, the Sith Lord would be angered for not getting what he wanted. If he _did_ beg, the Sith Lord would be offended that he _dare_ beg. He couldn't decide which was worse. He could _never_ decide. And his indecision angered the Sith Lord, and he was struck again, feeling a hot, sticky substance splatter his face as Lumis' hand burned across him. It was blood. It was _always_ blood.

"M-mercy..." Maul finally choked out, and Lumis looked hatefully down upon him, his bloody hand held out in front of his face.

"I haven't even _begun_ to hurt you, filth," Lumis growled, his fingers extending and sending small, jolting arcs of electricity into the Zabrak's neck, and a strangled scream caught in his throat. Yoda recoiled with a sharp growl, the jolt of electricity coursing through the Zabrak's body, through his cybernetic legs, and into the beast's mouth. He wasn't hurt, but he was stunned, and he dropped Maul from his mouth, the mangled legs falling with a clang to the ground, his arms still pinned. The rancor cautiously sniffed at the shaking Zabrak, determined it was safe, and took the twisted, chewed heap of metal back into his mouth. "Look what you did," the Sith snarled, holding up his dripping hand in front of Maul's face. "Lick it off."

With a strangled whimper, Maul did as he was ordered, the Sith holding his hand just far enough away to make it a struggle, to make him reach for it, and he caught himself just before a flash of anger tore through him, and willed it back, giving way to absolute submission. It wasn't enough. The Sith had sensed his brief show of temper, and he knew well enough that he would be made to suffer for it. With a hapless sob, Maul brought his tongue across the Sith's palm, gagging slightly as the thick, metallic smell of blood filled his nose. When he was an apprentice, Sidious had encouraged his temper, had praised his lust for violence. But with _Lumis_...he expected submission. There was no praise for submitting quickly, no encouragement to continue to do so. It was _expected_ , and to defy his expectations meant... _nothing_. There would be pain and torture and experiments regardless of how he behaved, but Maul couldn't find it in him to resist his new Master.

Lumis' other hand laid gently on Maul's head, his thumb drawing circles on his forehead, and Maul shivered before he began to silently weep, his hoarse voice begging for the Lord not to do this, but the Sith heard nothing. Maul rarely felt a gentle hand, but he was coming to understand that a soft touch from Lumis brought more agony than any physical torture he could devise. "How much do you think I could hurt you without harming your body?" Lumis asked, his voice calm and smooth and dripping with hate, and Maul shivered, his eyes rolling in the back of his head as the Sith's shadowy hand pressed into his mind and began sifting through his memories. In the beginning, he had resisted, and Lumis had broken his mind for it. Now, Maul couldn't resist if he tried.

" _Master_ ," he gasped, body tensing and shaking when the Sith pulled from the deepest places of his mind for his most painful memories and forced them to the front of his thoughts. It was a plea, a desperate one that he knew had no hope of being heard, but it was pulled from his raw throat regardless as his memories played before him, tearing open old wounds and forgotten suffering and exposing him not just to the mental anguish, but forced him to relive the shadows of his physical suffering as the Dark Side pulsed through him like poison, an ally to Lumis, not to Maul. He choked back the screams, the pitiful noises coming out as pained whimpers. He couldn't scream if he wanted to, not anymore. With a final look of disgust at the convulsing creature, Lumis rose, slowly strode to the center of the room, and knelt, Dooku coming to kneel beside him a moment later when the doors swung open and Darth Sidious walked in, his hood pulled back and his yellow eyes darting about the room in a quick examination of his surroundings.

"Master..." Lumis and Tyranus chanted in unison, echoed a moment later by Maul in a frantic, pained whimper. Sidious ignored his former apprentice, gestured for the other two Sith to rise, which only Dooku did. Sidious' fingers ran through Lumis' hair when he came to stand beside him, the apprentice leaning his head against the Master's leg, and Dooku frowned. As far as plans for killing their Master went, it wasn't looking good.

"I have good news," Sidious said softly, a faint smile on his lips as his eyes drifted to Kenobi's pet rancor chewing on the writhing Maul's legs. "The fall of Mandalore is working to our advantage." Lumis shivered, but his face remained expressionless. "Thousands of contested systems suddenly thrust into the galaxy, and it has given us a much bigger area to fight in. The Jedi are spread thin, very few remain in the Temple. Only the younglings and the Masters they need to stay behind and coordinate the war effort."

"Yoda remains?" Dooku asked, and the rancor raised his head, looked at the Sith Lords, than gleefully resumed his chewing. Sidious nodded.

"In deep meditation, though I do not know why. Recent meetings have not been discussed with me."

"Do they suspect you, Master?" Dooku asked, and Sidious laughed.

"Hardly, my old friend. They have been set on edge by something else." Sidious looked down at Lumis, but the apprentice didn't move, didn't register anything on his handsome face. "Lumis."

"Master," he said without moving, his eyes fixed straight ahead.

"It's a great tragedy that we lost the child that was to be my apprentice in our empire," Sidious said smoothly, and Lumis shook, his hand tightening with rage, his gold eyes narrowing and darting furiously to Maul, who began suddenly thrashing, his hoarse screams sounding through the room. The Master grinned, breathed deep of the Dark Side that rose up like a sudden flood. It _was_ a shame about what had happened, but the loss was more than made up for by what he got in return. "But this is no permanent loss. We can begin again. We-"

"No."

Sidious' hand tightened in Lumis' hair, a flash of rage running through the Master at the swift finality of his apprentice's answer. " _No_?" he repeated in disbelief.

"No." Lumis shook his head, the corner of his mouth twitching as his golden eyes closed, his face filling with anger and pain. "I won't do it. I can't, not again..."

Sidious scoffed. "You can, Lumis. And you _will_. You are a virile young man that produced a child so strong in the Dark Side that I _felt_ its conception. The children you sire will be _fearsome_. One doesn't need love to make your seed take root, Lumis."

"I _know_ that, Master, I-"

"There are no shortage of women that want you. Line them up and take them all." Sidious shrugged. "Take the ones that _don't_ want you, for all I care, you can make them do as you wish anyway."

" _This isn't the point_!" Lumis snapped, pulling away from his Master's grasp and rising to his feet to put some distance between himself and the Sidious. "You can't make a Dark Side child worthy of the Sith on just _any_ woman! She needs to be exceptional! It worked with Satine because Satine is-"

"Satine _was_ ," Sidious corrected, and for a moment, Lumis looked lost, confused as if he had forgotten, as if he had slipped back into himself from a week ago, before his world was shattered. Then, the Force exploded in a supernova of fury and agony, and Dooku stepped closer to his Master, hands over his ears to block out the deafening howl of the Dark Side as it tore through the air like a savage wind. He looked at Lumis, his eyes squeezed tightly shut and his hands balled into tight fists in his sandy blond hair, his body wound so tightly that his muscles shook with the tension of the Force rushing through him. The rancor, docile and content before, was suddenly roaring in fury, his large, black eyes quickly staining a glowing red and yellow from the flood of the Dark Side bleeding through his connection with the Sith Lord, a frantic Maul left forgotten on the ground to thrash and scream under the unrelenting wrath of the Force.

When the thick windows separating the comfortable room from the heavy, hot air of the lava flows outside began to violently shake, the glass threatening not to crack but to shatter under the weight of the Force, Dooku looked at his Master and found him... _content_ , a cruel smile on his face, his yellow eyes glowing with hunger and greed and power, and realization dawned on the older apprentice. There was _always_ a reason, a method behind the things the Master did, and now, Sidious was testing a weapon. Slowly, Lumis' breaths evened, the shaking in his body lessening, his tight grip in his hair easing as he opened his eyes, blazing with rage that was not controlled, but contained as his focus returned. Dooku allowed himself to breathe again when the rancor pounced upon Maul once again.

"Satine _was_ ," Lumis began again, his accented voice tight with anger and quivering with emotion he could not repress, "remarkable. She has..." He growled again, his fist clenching tightly. "She _had_ everything we needed to make what we had possible. We will not find her equal."

Sidious shrugged. "Perhaps you are right," he conceded, and Lumis relaxed his body, though his rage did not abate. "Regardless, it does not need to be now. We shall keep our options open." Lumis didn't answer, but he visibly relaxed, inclining his head toward the Master. "Were you left to your own devices, Lumis, what would you do now?"

His face darkened, and the Force swelled around him, surrounding him in a cold, focused blaze. " _Revenge_ ," he growled, and Sidious chuckled in delight. "The crime lords that did this will pay. I will root them out and destroy them all. And the _Jedi_..." His breath hitched as he felt the Force pulse within him, snarling and vicious and wanting for blood. The Force had been on fire. _He_ had been on fire, powerless to stop it, and he had _burned_ , was still burning, and knew he would until there was nothing left within him but ash and darkness to remain in the absence of flames. He hated _everything._ The Jedi that betrayed him and now hunted him. The indifferent, selfish, corrupt galaxy. The cowardly criminals that banded together into an army just to kill one woman. The Force itself, for abandoning him, for answering his cries for help with silence, for showing him visions - _lies_ \- of all that would be, but now never could. But most of all, he hated himself for being too weak to stop it.

"I want it to burn..." he growled, his heart beating in time with the Dark Side as it poured itself thick within him. "I want it all to _burn_. This entire galaxy, everything living within it, I want it all to _burn with me_."

Sidious grinned, his eyes glinting with sinister joy, but Dooku felt... _apprehensive_. They had talked about building an empire ruled by the rise of the Sith Order, but that wasn't what Lumis talked about. His was a path of destruction.

"And from the ashes, we will build a new world, my apprentices," Sidious rasped, seeming to sense Dooku's concern, and both apprentices' bowed their heads.

"As you say, my Master..." Lumis said softly, golden eyes suddenly filling with anger, and Sidious shivered in delight when he felt the Dark Side rise once again, just as strong as before. "And I'm starting with _Anakin Skywalker_."

"Skywalker hunts you," Sidious said softly, amused, _interested_ , and Lumis snarled in frustration.

"He will _never_ find me. Not until I want him to, not until I'm ready."

"If you need help killing him..." Dooku started, but was quickly cut off by a vicious glare accompanied by the firm hand of the Dark Side, but he grit his teeth and held strong.

"I said I would make him _burn_. He will suffer all I have and more." Lumis ran his hands through his hair, eyes closed and groaning softly as he embraced the power of the Dark Side and all the pain, hatred and pleasure that went along with it. "Everything, _everything_ that I have ever suffered for has been _his doing_. He took my Master from me, he set me on the path to the Dark Side, the Force..." He growled and inhaled a shaking breath as red began to stain the edges of his golden eyes. "The _Force_ brought me to the Sith in response to _him_. I have always known that to be true. And if I hadn't been off dealing with him, I would have been on Mandalore, I could have fought back that Sith pretender, and _I could have saved Satine_."

The Sith were silent for a moment as Lumis shook, his body willfully ravaged by the Dark Side while the other two watched the raging storm of the Force around them. It wasn't disturbed, though it's thrashing was causing vast waves that would extend into ripples across the entire fabric of the Force, so much so that Dooku was certain the Jedi could feel it all the way on Coruscant. The Dark Side was angry with the mindless fury of a beast that had been wronged and injured, and now it lashed out at everything that drew near in an attempt to right itself. This was Maul's doing, but Skywalker was close enough to the event to be caught in the flames of the Sith's wrath.

Lumis had _always_ sat in the center of the Force, had been a conduit through which it freely flowed through, but before, there had been control. Before, they could see where the man ended and the Force began, though the distinction had always been a bit blurry. Now, all pretense of control had been surrendered, the fresh stab of pain forcing the man to embrace it all, and it brought him closer to the Dark Side. _Dangerously_ close. Slowly, Sidious began to smile.

"You would make Skywalker suffer?" Sidious asked, though his voice was distant as he narrowed his focus on Lumis. He gasped softly as he reached out and grabbed hold of his young apprentice's mind and felt the vortex of the Dark Side draw him in with a pull so strong that he nearly tumbled into the throes of the Force, but with a tight breath, he caught himself, centered himself in Lumis' presence, and allowed the pleasure of such power to wash over him.

" _Nobody_ will suffer as he has by the time I am through with him. Before I am done, Anakin Skywalker will _beg_ me to kill hm. I will take _everything_ from him, just as he did to me."

Dooku felt the air rush out of him, felt the Force itself pulled from his grasp as Lumis' focus returned, his red-rimmed gold eyes blazing with purpose and meaning that had been lost to him since Mandalore fell. Before, he had existed in a mindless haze in the grasp of the Dark Side, expending his unfocused wrath on Maul, or anything else that got in his way, and when the pain became too much, his consciousness would retreat deep within himself and allow the Force to move him. But _now_ , his rage was given a target, a focus, and it sharpened him, the young Sith drawing in as much of the Force as he could take to feed his anger.

"How do you suppose to do that?" Sidious asked with genuine interest, his head tilted slightly as he observed his apprentice. He had gotten close to Anakin Skywalker through his association with Tarkin, but young Skywalker had always been... _difficult_. He had caught the attention of the Sith Master early on, but Qui-Gon's influence in the Knight had been keenly felt. He was uniquely equipt to deal with _life_ , not as a Jedi, but as a person, and it made him dangerous. But if Lumis made good on his word, if he could somehow focus his rage and refine it into a weapon against Skywalker...

His fall may not be so difficult to engineer.

"It's simple enough," Lumis growled. "If I didn't have to deal with him, if I..." He growled and gripped his head in his hands, eyes clenched as if fighting off pain deep within him. "He helped take Satine away from me, he didn't do it but it's _his fault_." His hands fell to his side, and all the anger and pain dropped from his face, leaving his body relaxed and his expression blank, and for a moment, Dooku thought that the Force had taken him, as it so often did. With a shudder, a small, cruel smile tugged at the edge of his lips, and his shoulders began to shake with silent laughter. "I'll need your help, Dooku," Lumis said softly. "I need to get in touch with Cad Bane. There's someone I need him to get for me. I'm going to splinter the Jedi, and I'll need every Dark Jedi I can get."

The Count nodded. "I'll contact him immediately."

"And _Skywalker_ ," Lumis hissed. "The woman I love is gone. I can't see why _he_ should have what I cannot." A malicious grin slowly spread across his face, cold and cruel and Sidious could feel himself relax into the feelings of satisfaction as they rushed through him. "You may get that apprentice you wanted after all, Master."

"You have a woman in mind?" he asked, and Lumis' eyes seemed to grow distant as he slowly nodded. It had been a long time since he had seen her, but from the start, her passion had reminded him of his Satine, and there had _always_ been something of an attraction between them. It would be a simple thing to reawaken her lust for him, and an even simpler thing to get her to act upon it, even if she was in love with Skywalker. Lumis hoped she was. It would make her seduction to his side _so_ much sweeter. He pushed aside any reservations he may have had about it, the pain in his chest igniting to become a persistent dull ache as he thought about his last night with Satine, how complete he had felt inside her, the beautiful darkness of their son, her barely audible last words to him as she lay dying. His heart was gone with her, and his body was simply a tool, and tools were meant to be used.

He'd have to make certain he could bring himself to do it, to keep himself in the moment, to surrender to his passions, his physical desires, no matter what ghosts may plague him. Ghosts were a weakness, and Satine was _never_ weakness to him. He would never allow her to become such. With a deep breath, he centered himself, his anger burning away everything but the desire for revenge. He'd have it soon. Anakin Skywalker would suffer, and it would start with Padmé Amidala.


	83. Assault Tactics

"You're ready." Quinlan grinned brightly, his heart fluttering in his chest when he heard the words come soft, easy out of those lips that he had kissed far, far too often. The pale face flushed with annoyance, and she crossed her arms before her chest. "As ready as you'll ever be, in any case. We were better prepared _before_."

"Well, we couldn't go _before_ , you said I wasn't ready." His dark brown eyes glanced off to the side to look at the kybuck that lay dead just a few meters away, and Ventress' gaze followed his. Quinlan had killed it, lured it in with the Force, and than used the Dark Side to kill it. It was... _senseless_ and awful, the creature non-sentient and therefore inherently innocent, but Quinlan had done it to prove a point. He had murdered before, and now he had done it again. She sighed when the Jedi flashed her another bright grin.

"Alright, enough. Back to the ship, we need to plan our attack, and the atmosphere here is..." She wrinkled her nose. " _Distasteful_." It wasn't true, but she didn't want to admit that she was effected by the highly unusual atmosphere of Zeltros, and while they had avoided the high concentrations of the lusty, pheromone-secreting, beautiful red skinned Zeltrons in their capital city, even the breeze in the forest seemed to be _filled_ with air that sent the mind into a lusty haze and made the body crave physical pleasure. It was under control, yes, but only just barely.

Quinlan had insisted on coming here for their final training session before their mission to kill Dooku, as the forests were rich with an abundance of life, and the planet was known to be _the_ place to go if you wanted to experience hedonism on a level previously unheard of, and the Zeltrons were, by far, the most sexual species in the galaxy. Presumably because they lived in a pheromone-induced haze that drove them to seek pleasure. That would have been fine, had it not been known to effect other species as well, which left Zeltros in a state of continuous lusty celebration. So powerful was this effect in their atmosphere that no invasion had ever been successful, as the will to fight simply died the second an invading force hit the planet.

And Asajj Ventress had agreed to come here. _Stupidly_.

Quinlan had said that if he was going to die, he wanted to go to Zeltros at least once, and Ventress couldn't find it in herself to deny him. After all, they probably _were_ going to die, and so long as their training could be done, she didn't care where they were. It had turned out, in fact, to be an excellent place to train, as the distracting haze that surrounded them proved to be a fine tool to hone their focus, though by the time that Vos had killed the kybuck, both of them were ready to abandon the training in favor of...more pleasurable things. They walked back to the ship quickly, and Ventress growled in irritation, using the Force to focus herself. They had an assassination to plan. They couldn't afford this distraction.

As soon as they entered Ventress' ship, the _Banshee_ , she slammed her hand on the button to seal the airlock and pressurize the ship, the filtration system kicking in to clear the sir of the infuriating pheromones, though the effects still lingered. But it was enough. With a sigh, she pushed past Quinlan and walked to the cockpit, dropped into the pilot's seat and activated the holoprojector, frowning when she saw the list of information she had compiled for the mission. It was _extensive._ They could allow for no mistakes, no contingency unplanned, no event unaccounted for. She pulled up a map of an enormous palace when Quinlan sauntered in and dropped into the seat.

"This is Raxulon," Ventress said softly, zooming out to display the entirety of the beautiful, sprawling city, the palace standing tall and magnificent at its center. "This is the palace, and it's here we'll find Dooku."

Quinlan whistled. "That's an _awfully_ big building.," he said softly, clearly impressed. "Are you sure this is our best chance?"

"It's our _only_ chance," Ventress insisted, zooming back on to the palace and further still to show a large courtyard overlooked by an elaborate balcony high above the extensive gardens. "We won't get a chance like this again."

"It's a major event, there's going to be every measure of security in place for it."

"Yes," Ventress agreed. "But maybe not Kenobi."

Quinlan chewed on his lip as he looked over the image. The Confederacy was holding something of a memorial for the late Duchess Satine, both to show their respects for the galactic peacekeeper and to welcome previously Separatist worlds back into the Confederacy. It was no secret that the Mand'alor had gone to great lengths to build bridges with the leaders of the Republic and the Confederacy, and the gesture did nothing but make the Separatists look terribly good when compared to the Republic. The celebration would make it fairly simple to blend into a crowd, sneak into the palace, hide out until the throng had thinned and the Count was alone, and possibly tired and inebriated from the evening's festivities.

But most importantly, because of the nature of the event, it seemed the most likely time that Obi-Wan would not be around to lend aid to his Sith ally. It wasn't a sure thing, but both Quinlan and Ventress knew Kenobi well, knew how close he had been to lovely Satine, and thought it very likely that heartbreak would keep him far, _far_ away from Raxus. Neither of them wanted to fight Obi-Wan. Neither of them wanted to see what grief had done to their friend. They just needed to kill Dooku and get out quickly.

"We'll need to deal with Grievous?" Quinlan asked, and Ventress nodded her head. "We should be able to take him."

"We don't even need to do that much," she said softly. "We just need to keep them apart. Though," she added, glowering at the image of the palace, "I wouldn't mind if he didn't make it out of this alive."

"He won't go down without a fight," Vos said swiftly. "Maybe it's best that we don't kill him. Confronting him would just alert Dooku." Ventress nodded, but didn't say anything. "...do you think Obi-Wan will be there?"

"There's always the chance..." Ventress said absently, looking over the palace and drawing a route with her finger, a red line trailing after her path in, and a blue plan on the path out. She exhaled in frustration as she looked over her work, cleared the paths, and began again. "But if ever Dooku would be without him, it would be fore this. I can't imagine him subjecting himself to that sort of pain."

"And he _never_ liked parties," Vos added, and Ventress chuckled as she traced a new path.

"No, I got that impression as well. He and I would always keep out of sight when Dooku hosted at Serenno. We would spend _hours_ training together, he was a relentless teacher."

"...I didn't know you were so close," Vos said softly, and Ventress could sense a hint of jealousy in his voice, though she couldn't tell if he were jealous of Kenobi, or jealous of her. "I didn't think there was any closeness among the Sith."

"...there usually wasn't," Ventress whispered. "Dooku was a hard, cruel Master, and he and Kenobi were _always_ making things difficult for each other. They compete for their Master's attention. Or, they _did_. Something has united them. I don't know what, but it isn't good."

Quinlan tapped his finger on his leg, watching Ventress slowly draw and erase their infiltration plans, and he very slowly added his own lines, smiling gently at Ventress when the woman glared at him, grumbled in irritation, and incorporated his additions into her route. "Do you think they are still working together?"

"...I don't know." Ventress crossed her arms and leaned back, looking at the plans and trying to decide if they were good enough to be final. "I can't imagine why not. If so, Kenobi will be there. He won't be _present_ , but he will be near, and if he's on the planet, he will sense us." She sighed heavily. "But I don't know what this loss will do to him. If I had to guess..." She bit her lip, and refused to make eye contact with those expressive brown eyes. "He's Sith, and they thrive on pain and anger, and he will have an abundance of both. He will be dangerous and unpredictable, especially at something like this. He has a great deal to occupy him in his own home. I don't think he'd leave."

"So no Kenobi."

"As I said, it's the best shot we have at catching the Count alone."

Vos nodded. "Three days?"

"Three days," Ventress affirmed. I have secured our invitations, so getting in shouldn't be a problem." She traced her finger along the path that had been set. "Everyone will be in the courtyard here, Dooku will give his speech from the balcony _here_ ," she said, pointing to it, "and then we'll be free to explore."

"What will his strength be, do you suspect?" Vos asked, and Ventress scoffed, waved her hand dismissively.

"Just the might of the entire Separatist Army. Grievous will be there for certain. There will be a substantial droid presence, but that won't be a problem."

"So just Grievous to worry about? Vos asked, a carefree smile on his face, and Ventress could feel her own confidence grow with the Jedi's. "And maybe Kenobi. No problem."

No, that wasn't it. She frowned, closed her eyes, and remembered Dathomir, the execution of her sisters, and the agents that had carried out the slaughter. "There may be another," she hissed softly as she pulled up the painful memory. "On Dathomir, when my sisters were killed..." There was pain in her chest, deep sadness as she remembered what had happened, how hard she had fought against Obi-Wan, how it hadn't been enough, how her old friend so casually lashed out at her through the slaughter of the Nightsisters. She felt the Force pull on her, strong and insistent, and she suddenly knew _exactly_ how Kenobi had changed after Satine's death. She had seen it when she faced him on Dathomir. With a growl, she pressed the thought aside. She needed to _focus_.

"Dooku sent his most powerful allies with Obi-Wan to exact revenge upon me and the Nightsisters for our betrayal."

" _Betrayal_?" Vos felt shocked. How could she believe that _she_ was the one that betrayed _them_ when it was the Sith that had tried to kill her? She returned his disbelief with a stern look.

"Betrayal, yes. Not against Dooku. Against Kenobi." The Jedi didn't seem to understand. "As I said, they are working together," Ventress said patiently. "Dathomir was attacked for the Sith, but Kenobi being there made it personal. He didn't need to go." She growled and shook her head. That was another matter. "The important thing is that Dooku sent Kenobi with his strongest allies."

"Grievous." Ventress nodded.

"And another. A _Jedi_."

"A Jedi..." Vos repeated, his voice distant and confused, his sharp mind searching for possibilities, but could find none. "As you sure?"

"I know what I saw, _idiot_ ," Ventress snarled, and Vos couldn't help but smile despite himself. It wasn't a _nickname_ exactly, but the way she said it always seemed to him... _affectionate_. "He was _huge_. Two double sided lightsabers, green and blue, wielded between four arms." Quinlan felt the air go out of his lungs as if he had been punched in the gut.

"Pong Krell..." He swallowed hard and shook his head. "He was presumed dead on Umbara, he was a Jedi _Master_." He quickly ran through his mind for any other possibility, but the pull of the Force upon him told him that he had the right of it. It was Pong Krell that Ventress spoke of. A Jedi Master involved in the massacre of Dathomir. But _why_...

"If you say so," she shrugged. "But he was there on Dathomir, he was sent to aid Kenobi. The turnaround was a bit quick, but Dooku always tests prospective apprentices before he begins to train them. It could be possible that the slaughter of my people was this Jedi's test to be worthy of being Dooku's new apprentice."

"And if Krell _is_ apprentice to Dooku, than he will absolutely be there on Raxus."

"Exactly."

Quinlan felt his confidence falter. Killing Dooku had been one thing. Separating the cyborg General from the Sith Lord had been another. But now there was a third in the mix. A very dangerous third, and even worse was the prospect that Kenobi may not be far behind either. He and Ventress against Dooku seemed like a fair fight, but mixing in not one but _two_ more Sith into the equation made their chances of success dangerously low.

"Can we get a third invitation?" he asked quietly, and was met with a hard, disapproving glare. "Ahsoka had begged me to go. We won't get better help than her."

"She's a _child_."

"And a damn good one." Ventress was unimpressed, and her mind was clearly on something else. "Asajj. We need help if we're going to deal with all of that and live. Ahsoka can help."

"You _do_ realize that we're probably going to die doing this, right? Do you really want to bring your Padawan into this." Vos nodded.

"She isn't dead weight, Asajj. Ahsoka is _very_ good. She can deal with Grievous while you and I handle the Sith." He flashed her a cocky grin when Ventress looked at him dumbfounded. "She doesn't need to fight him, she just needs to draw him away and trap him, right? I trained Ahsoka for survival. She can do it."

" _Alright_ ," Ventress growled, sinking deep into her seat. "But don't blame me if things go wrong and she gets hurt."

"I won't. Besides, this is an even fight now!" Vos leaned back in his seat, hands folded behind his head and ankle crossed over his knee. "Unless Obi-Wan's there. What do you suppose are the chances of that."

"Fifty percent," she growled. "Maybe." She looked at the Jedi closely, observed his calm, the ease that came so freely to him, felt the Dark Side within him, strong and eager, but not too dark. Simply shadows of a greater power, one that he could touch and quickly turn away from. She could trust him. She _did_ trust him. "I can't be sure," she said softly, "but I think I may know what Obi-Wan has become." Vos leaned forward, his dark eyes wide and sympathetic, his whole being attuned to her, and she felt herself flush, and Ventress found herself looking away. "He tried to bring me back," she whispered. "He tried _so hard_ , but I was angry, and I would have none of it. I was his friend, and the Nightsisters took me away from him."

"And he returned to kill them all," Vos finished gently, reaching out and grabbing her hand, and Ventress did not pull away. "Do you think he did it because of you?" Ventress nodded sadly.

"He met loss with massacre, what do you suppose grief of this magnitude will do to him?"

Vos shivered, the Force itself trembling at the idea. "You don't suppose it will destroy him, do you? I've seen grief take everything out of a man."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Ventress said softly. "He's answered grief with slaughter. If he holds nothing close to him anymore, than _nobody_ is safe. Not even you, Quinlan Vos."

He looked at her for a long time, felt the disquiet within her, and for the first time, he really felt that they may die on this mission. He had been so sure before that everything would be fine, that in the end, Kenobi would help him, or at the very least, would stay his hand, but things may have changed, and he feared that Ventress had the right of it. She was often right, and despite the danger to herself, she had agreed to stand beside him and help, despite her claims that she would never do so. But Ventress was brave and strong, carried the bitter scars of her Sith Master upon her, and she was beautiful for it.

Vos didn't realize that he had leaned in and kissed her, hard and insistent, but he _did_ notice when she swiftly opened herself to him, drew him closer, ran her long-fingered hands over his chest and shoulders as he felt her melt against him. It was _perfect_. She was perfect, and he felt...he didn't know what he felt, but he needed to be closer to her _now_. He was terribly aroused, had been since they had landed on lusty Zeltron, and though their focus had kept them solidly on the task at hand, he could feel the chemicals his brain was forced to release rushing through his blood alongside the Force. He _could_ repress it, but he didn't want to. Not now. Not when they may die soon. Not when it was _unthinkable_ that he hadn't found his way into her bed after their weeks of close physical contact and heated, exploring touches. He had been afraid before of what he was feeling, and whether it was the impending death or the potent pheromones of Zeltron, he found he didn't care nearly as much as he did before.

"Vos..." Ventress said, breathless as she broke away. "We have an assassination to plan, we-"

"It can wait," he growled, voice low and husky and Ventress' eyes widened as the Jedi pressed against her, his need made _painfully_ clear. "It can all wait. I want this. _You_ want this, I can feel it..."

"Y-yes..." she stuttered, looking away from him for a moment as she tried to compose herself, but like her companion, the effects of this place were far too great, and her focus had slipped, giving way to her own desire. "But we have work to do," she tried softly, laying a hand on his chest to press him away and found herself caressing him instead. "And you are _flooded_ with the intoxicant in the air, you're not thinking right."

"Maybe not," Vos mumbled. "But there's always tomorrow to do it again if you don't believe that this is coming from me right now." He kissed her, hard and swift, and Ventress felt her legs tremble as she swiftly reached for the Kiffar's belt and undid it. "And again the next day. And after that, and after that..."

It was over for Vos when Ventress moaned, melted against him as she surrendered to the feelings that rushed through her mind. He didn't realize how badly he wanted this, how close he felt to her, and through the fear of these new emotions, he had pushed it away. Vos was no stranger to carnal pleasure, but it had always been over quickly, and he rarely visited the same girl twice. His missions for the Jedi kept him on the move, and his training kept him unattached. It left him with pleasure of the body, and nothing more. But _this_ was different, all at once more pleasurable, and he couldn't help but finally understand how and why Obi-Wan had held on so tightly to his love for Satine, even when he had been dedicated to the Jedi, even when they had been separated for _years_ after his mission to Mandalore. And he could understand how, now that it was gone, his tight hold on his love for the woman he lost could drive him to insanity and the potential destruction that Ventress had talked about.

But Vos didn't _love_ Ventress, did he? He looked at her, her face flushed, her pale eyes dilated so much that hardly any of her light blue irises could be seen, and he felt his heart lurch in his chest. It had to be the effect of the pheromones of Zeltron. Or maybe it was love, he didn't know, but thought could wait until the two of them were good and sated. They had a need for each other, and that need _must_ be met.

* * *

"That is a _terrible_ idea." Anakin sighed when he was met with the harsh, immediate disapproval of Wilhuff Tarkin, the man's arms crossed in front of his chest as he stood beside Chancellor Palpatine's desk, the blue lines of the hologram frozen on a still of an image pulled from the data dump of Kenobi's ship. The recorded data was deleted every day, and Tarkin had managed to pull the security footage from the ship just before the memory was flushed. While they learned nothing new about Kenobi's methods, they _did_ get a complete recording of the fight that had occurred between them, and it gave Anakin and Tarkin a more complete picture of the man they fought.

"It's not a _completely_ terrible idea," Anakin offered meekly, and he was met with the cold glare of the Admiral.

"Yes, it is. Uniquely terrible." Tarkin sighed and rubbed his temple. "First off, we do not know where Kenobi's home base is, and therefore, we _cannot_ attack it." Anakin opened his mouth to speak, but Tarkin quickly held up a hand, and the Jedi shut his mouth. "Yes, I _know_ I could probably find it, but that is not how we will win this fight. Attacking him on his home is suicide. Besides, we already know he spends time on Raxus and Serenno as a high ranking member of the Separatists and as a close associate of Count Dooku, and attacking him there is an equally terrible idea."

"Could you discern his location, Wilhuff?" Palpatine asked softly, and the Admiral sighed heavily.

"I could certainly narrow the search, if that is what you wish, Chancellor," Tarkin said wearily. "But I must insist that we avoid it. One does not go to hunt an apex predator where he is most dangerous."

"He's going to be dangerous _everywhere_ ," Anakin said, watching as Tarkin cleared the hologram and brought up a map of the galaxy, his long fingers flying over a datapad in his hands as he entered in his search criteria. "Especially now that his family is dead."

Tarkin scoffed. "He was always dangerous, General. This loss of his is irrelevant."

"I disagree," the Jedi said firmly. "We don't know what grief will do to him, we don't-"

"With all due respect, sir, we know _exactly_ what it will do to him." He looked up from his datapad when he felt curious eyes upon him, and irritation gripped him when the need to explain was made apparent. "He is a man with nothing to lose," he said slowly. "This will make him inexorably dangerous, and in such, he will be reckless. This will give us a chance to strike at mistakes he may not otherwise make."

"You can't know-"

"I can," Tarkin insisted. "I do. We have seen him in action, He is a man driven by passion and anger, as you Jedi say. If we wait long enough, we will see exactly the form his vengeance will take, and we can use that to entrap him. I say him becoming more dangerous doesn't change anything because he was already dangerous to begin with." He huffed in irritation. "When faced with a Kryat Dragon, it doesn't matter if the beast's fangs are exposed or not, because you are still facing thirty meters of beast that wants you dead. Maybe he is more aggressive, but the fact has not changed that Kenobi has _always_ been our most dangerous enemy."

"So you wouldn't change a thing?" Anakin asked, and the Admiral shook his head.

"I wouldn't. Our mission is still the same. Hunt him down and kill him. We will need to see his new strategy, though, and I highly suggest we lure him out to observe him before we attack."

"Lure him out?" Palpatine asked, concerned. "You will lose men if you do that."

"Acceptable losses," Tarkin said with a dismissive wave of his hand, and Anakin frowned.

"We can't just send men to their deaths, Tarkin."

"He's going to begin killing us rather soon, I imagine," the Admiral said, eyes returning to his datapad. "We can either cross our fingers and hope to get lucky in our observations, or we can lay a trap where we can observe him in action. And if that works, we can do it again and _kill_ him." Anakin chewed on his lip as he watched areas of the galactic map darken. "All this is Republic space," the Admiral mumbled. "We can safely assume he doesn't keep his base here."

"We can rule out the neutral systems as well," Anakin said quickly. "We know he stayed on Mandalore, but it wasn't his base of operations. His investment there would keep him from building his home there." Tarkin frowned as he looked at the man, then slowly nodded and darkened those areas as well.

"That leaves us all of Separatist Space," he mumbled, moving his hand through the map. "Serenno, Raxus, Murkhana. Your triad of evil, Chancellor, Mygeeto, Saleucami, Felucia," he said softly, pointing to each planet in turn, the small dots lighting up as he touched them. "We cannot discount Mandalore. It may not have been Separatist, but his lover occupied the throne, and we are fools if we believe that Satine Kryze didn't have eyes out for the father of her child."

"The crime lords must figure into all this somehow," Anakin said swiftly, moving into the projection and touching the area that was classified as Hutt Space. Tarkin quickly opened his mouth to object, but Skywalker quickly cut in with, "They wouldn't have united under Maul if they didn't share a common enemy, and Kenobi made himself an enemy of them when he forced them out of the Mandalore system."

Tarkin thought about this for a long while, and he finally passed his hand over Hutt Space, darkening the area. "Is that where it started?" he whispered, and Anakin shrugged. "Forcing them out of a sector is one thing, making them fear him is something else. What would make an entire crime syndicate fear a single man..." Tarkin stood back and looked at the map, observing the bright spots located on the map, all of them in the Outer Rim, and he slowly touched new points to highlight the known bases of the galaxy's largest criminal syndicates. The lower region of the map was lit, but with no bright spots save for one.

"There," Tarkin said, a satisfied ease to his voice as he pointed to the singular point. "Mustafar."

"Are you sure?" Palpatine asked softly, his hands on the desk and leaning forward, and Tarkin quickly waved him off.

"It is simply speculation, Chancellor. Given what we know about him, and with General Skywalker's idea about his link to the criminal syndicates, Mustafar seems to be a possible candidate for a base of operations. But as I said before," he said sternly, "attacking there isn't possible. It would be like trying to attack Raxus, and it will not be worth the loss. Our best option is to get ahead of Kenobi and lure him out before we are forced to respond to the traps he sets for us."

Anakin dropped into a chair and ran his hands over his face as the hologram shut off. He was _going_ to have this meeting with Tarkin privately, but the Admiral had been with the Chancellor that afternoon, and it didn't seem like such a bad idea to keep the man in the loop. After all, he was ultimately the one that approved of these missions, and could quickly shut down any further attempts at going after Kenobi if it seemed to divert too far from the course of the war. Keeping in his good graces and maintaining a close connection with him had been something that Tarkin had insisted upon, and so far, it had been to their benefit. Tarkin got nearly everything he wanted out of the Chancellor.

"I think just being out in the war is going to draw his attention," Anakin said softly. "I can't imagine he's happy that our fight was interrupted, he's going to want to finish what we started."

"I'm inclined to agree," Tarkin said as he pulled up the recording of the fight aborad the Skywalker, and quickly forwarded through to the moment before Ki-Adi-Mundi died. Anakin had to look away, but Tarkin studied it closely. "Is he... _controlling_ that beast?" the Admiral asked, looking at the Jedi. "I had thought it looked like it."

Anakin nodded. "Through the Force, we can bond to other living things. I sensed the connection between the two."

"He's in direct control of the beast?" Skywalker indicated that the Admiral had the right of it. "And I take it that he has all the same powers as a Jedi?"

Anakin bristled. "He's _not_ a Jedi," he growled, and Tarkin rolled his eyes.

"These are semantics, General. You Jedi are so concerned with what he is labeled, how he is different from you, that you fail to grasp what matters. You are failing to see the forest for the trees." The General didn't say anything. Rather, he looked interested. "He has always been powerful and ruthless. He is, at the heart of it, a Jedi with no Code to get in the way of victory. You look at this tragedy of his and see something dangerous, but I see an opportunity. He may be more dangerous, but he is also vulnerable. We need to strike at him now before this open wound becomes a scar."

Anakin took a deep breath and looked at the image of Ki-Adi-Mundi in the hands of the rancor moments before he was pulled apart, at Tarkin, firm and brutal and resolved and so, _so_ right about so much, at the Chancellor, nervous and uncertain about this obvious threat to the Republic. Slowly, all the information presented to him by the Jedi Council, by the hunter that was Tarkin, by the concern of the Chancellor, by the tender care of Qui-Gon all started to come together. He closed his eyes and quietly placed himself in Kenobi's place. He imagined himself and Padmé with a child on the way, happy and content, and then imagined losing it all. He would have Qui-Gon to fall back on, his wise Master always there to lead him back on the path. But Obi-Wan didn't have Qui-Gon Jinn. _That_ was stolen from him too.

Panic gripped Anakin as sudden images of Padmé flooded his mind, the woman not dead, but very, _very_ much alive, her body flushed and naked and aroused as she moved against another man, his body strong and scarred and handsome as he sat deep within the former Queen that Anakin called his own. A strangled noise filled with pain and longing was torn from Skywalker's throat, and he quickly covered his mouth, shutting his eyes tight against it, but the vision became more detailed, more vivid. He had seen this before _many_ times, but why now? He had been trying to imagine what it would be like to lose her, but _this_...

This was worse.

"I think," Anakin said slowly, swallowing hard and fighting back the deep flush that threatened to creep up his neck, "that Kenobi may do what he's always done. You are right, Tarkin. He was always dangerous, but without the distraction of a family, I fear he may be more focused."

"I believe you are correct."

"Which will make him not just an enemy, but a dangerous hunter of Jedi," he whispered, zooming the image onto the face of Ki-Adi-Mundi, and he looked hard upon it, pushing away his concerns and doubts about Padmé as he did so. He would keep this moment within his mind. He would _never_ forget. "We've been working on building up the Council, and since he's been actively hunting them in the past, I think it's safe to assume he will do so now."

"Your Council is becoming rather small," Palpatine said softly. "Perhaps we should recall your Masters from the war effort to preserve them." Anakin shook his head.

"We're building up again. Oppo Rancisis has returned to his seat from retirement, and Aayla Secura, Stass Allie and Agen Kolar have just been elected." The Chancellor frowned, and for a moment. Seemed almost hurt.

"I hadn't heard that the seats have been filled."

"This only happened yesterday, Chancellor," Anakin quickly reassured the man. "We aren't being secretive, I promise, we just..." Anakin growled and ran a hand through his long hair. "We've just been so busy trying to make sense of all of this. Obi-Wan is a truly frightening element, especially now that he may be much more dangerous than before."

"I understand," Palpatine said softly, his shoulders slumping as he relaxed. "I am reluctant to divert a large force to facing him. He has shown himself to be very effective at killing our troops."

"Tarkin and I will take care of him, Chancellor," Anakin said, and he was met with the groans of the Admiral. "The Council has a lot of very young Masters sitting on it now. We believe that...a new perspective is necessary. The Jedi will draw him out, and I'll kill him." He smiled sadly. "At this point, I think it's a mercy."

"We will watch these Masters closely," Tarkin said, shutting off the hologram and collecting his things to leave. "I believe that we will be seeing them attacked _very_ soon, if Kenobi doesn't come for use first. If we are very careful, I think we may be able to use them to lay a trap, and hopefully limit our casualties in the process."

"I hope you're right, Tarkin," Anakin said softly, but deep inside him, he knew that he wasn't. Lots of people were going to die. He could feel it, sense it in the Force, and through the soft, gentle lapping of it upon his consciousness, he could have sworn that, far away, he could feel it burning.


	84. Immolate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas, you guys! I MIGHT get another chapter out over the holiday, but consider this one your Christmas gift. (Though, for reals, I'll probably get the next one done too. It's a big one, that.)

Cad Bane looked between the two Sith Lords, his swift mind rolling over all that he had been asked to do. It wasn't anything he couldn't handle, certainly not for the price that Dooku was offering. The Count had been a _very_ lucrative patron during the course of the war, and the jobs ran from simple distractions to devastating attacks, from hostage situations to assassinations, and he and his crew had done it all without any trouble, for the most part. This job was actually a touch on the easy side, especially for the amount of credits that were being offered, which made Bane think that there was something else at work. Dooku had always been careful and methodical, an easy man to do business with, given his calm rationale. But this _other_ one...

He knew there was more than one Sith Lord, had been hired by the Master, Sidious, on more than one occasion, constantly worked with Dooku, Tyranus, and now, he sat in the presence of Darth Lumis, the final member of the unholy trio. He didn't know what to expect, but it wasn't what he saw. Lumis was pale and gaunt with deep, dark circles under his golden, glowing eyes that made him seem as if he hadn't slept in weeks. He stood as a shocking contrast to the calm and collected Dooku, and in comparison, Lumis seemed completely unhinged. Bane would have thought him insane, had the man not planned out every detail of the job down to the letter, a plan so well-conceived that even Bane found it to be genius. The Sith had done his research, knew every detail about Bane and his crew, knew their strengths, their weaknesses, knew _exactly_ how best to use them to deal the most amount of damage in the most effective way.

Of course, Bane had done his research as well, as he found was necessary when dealing with the Sith. He knew they were dangerous, and information, more often than not, kept him alive. He didn't feel that security with Lumis, though. It felt like the man could snap and kill him at any moment were he simply to look at him wrong, and he knew that killing the man was not possible. Killing _any_ of the Sith was impossible. Instead, he kept quiet and listened. All that mattered was the job.

"So the goal is _not_ Poggle the Lesser and Wat Tambor?" Bane asked, eying Lumis cautiously when a cascading tremor of rage passed through the younger man, but it was Dooku who answered.

"They are secondary to your primary mission," the Count said swiftly before Lumis could cut in, and Bane's nod of understanding seemed to pacify the man. For now.

"They _look_ like the primary mission."

"That's the _point_!" Lumis snapped, fixing his furious gaze on the bounty hunter, but Bane didn't recoil or flinch. "Nobody will be looking where they should be when such high-profile prisoners are escaping. I suspect you'll be getting the attention of every Jedi in the city."

"I suspect we will," Bane said, a cocky smile on his thin lips, and the confidence seemed to please the unpredictable Sith. There were certain benefits for being known for specializing in fighting Jedi, and one of them, it seemed, was earning the approval of the Sith. "And what do you want me to do with these Jedi?"

"I don't care," Lumis growled, his golden eyes seeming to blaze as they unfocused, and the Sith seemed to struggle with... _something_. Bane wasn't sure what it was, but it seemed to have Dooku worried, which wasn't a good sign. At all. "Kill them. _Burn them_ , _all of them_!"

"Engage as necessary, Cad," Dooku muttered softly, moving away from the other Sith Lord and closer to the bounty hunter. "You want to keep them spread out and confused while you stage the girl's rescue."

Bane nodded, but kept his red eyes focused on Lumis as the man shivered, eyes closed and biting his lip as he fought for control of himself with the madness that threatened to overtake him. "And this job is to be carried out when?"

"Soon..." Lumis whispered. "Soon, soon it will be ready. Soon, _Skywalker_ will be out looking for me..." A cold, manic laugh carried through the air, the tones both chilling and melodic. "He will be away from Coruscant, the Jedi will be busy dealing with you, and while you get me my new ally, I will be able to sneak in and secure _her_..." He dissolved into a new peel of crazed laughter, and Bane inched closer to Dooku, the older Sith looking at the other with apprehension and concern.

"Is he alright?" Bane asked, his voice modulator lowering his tone to a whisper when he was certain that Lumis couldn't hear him, lost within his own mind, or the Force, or _whatever_ it was that Sith lost themselves in.

Dooku nodded. "He'll be fine. He needs to _sleep_." Bane nodded, and said nothing more. He was certain that it was far, _far_ more than just that, but he wasn't paid to pry. He'd do this Sith's work for him. It was a simple enough thing to break into a prison and take someone out, especially when nobody would be looking toward that particular area of the detention center when there was chaos surrounding the imprisoned Separatist leaders.

Lumis' eyes suddenly flew open, his head snapping toward the doors behind him, and without another word, he turned and left Cad Bane alone with a worried Dooku, his long legs taking him quickly through his palace, the heat from the lava lakes seeping in and warming the dark black stone of the halls. He _felt_ it. That strong, familiar presence in the Force that had been gone, out in the galaxy doing his work for him, looking for _her_. One identical to millions, and yet, this one had upon him the touch of darkness, deep and pervasive and readily embraced.

 _Cody_. He had returned. Lumis had sent him away, tasked him with a mission that he trusted only his clone commander to complete, and now, he had returned to his Master, returned home, and Lumis could feel he returned victorious. She was with him. He closed his eyes and drew in a long, shuddering breath, whimpering as he exhaled at the feel of her, so familiar, so intimately close to him, so deep within his being that his body _screamed_ for her. Lumis slammed his hand against the wall to keep himself up on his unsteady legs that threatened to give way. It was familiar, yes, and the pounding of his heart upon his ribs made him believe, if only for a moment, that it was possible. Cody had returned with her, he had brought him back his Satine.

But the Force was not so kind. It was so like his Mand'alor, _so like her_ , but slightly off. Not quite her smooth, easy presence, not quite her soft-spoken cunning, not quite her galactic ambition. This was rougher, harsher, stained with violence that his Satine was never gripped by. They were similar, but only because they were family, and his being _longed_ to feel that warm and comforting presence once again, if only because he knew he never would.

He saw the two soldiers walking closely to each other as they walked down the halls, and when they saw each other, the Sith and the Mandalorian rushed toward each other and tightly embraced, Lumis holding her in a crushing hug, his hand sliding into her shoulder length red hair as he used to do with her sister, and she tightly held her hands splayed on his back, her shoulders shaking with repressed, dry sobs. After a moment, Lumis held her at arm's length and looked over the sharp features made soft with emotion, and he felt anger and grief and joy and a mess of conflicting emotions pouring off of her. He opened his mouth, but the words he wanted to speak died in his throat.

 _I'm so sorry_.

"I thought you were dead," Bo-Katan hissed as she punched him in the chest, far stronger than had been expected from a woman of her size, far stronger that her sister ever struck him. " _I thought you were dead_ ," she said again, her voice cracking as she balled her fist in the dark folds of his robes. "I hoped you were alive, I couldn't bear it if you were dead too..." Rage passed over her face, and Lumis gasped when he felt the Dark Side rise up in response, his hand clenching into a tight fist as he staved off the Force, threatening to overtake him again. "We're going to kill them all! All of them, we will have revenge for them, Obi-Wan!" Those golden eyes seemed distant, the man not quite there, and Bo-Katan leaned in, looking him over carefully. "Obi-Wan?" Still nothing. She frowned. " _Obi-Wan_!"

Lumis sucked in a sharp breath, his focus returning as he looked at the woman, rolling her words over and silently trying on his old name. It felt... _wrong_ , uncomfortable and ill-fitting, as if he had not worn it in a very long time, though he knew it had not been long at all. "Revenge, yes," Lumis said quietly, rage making his usually smooth voice quiver. "Kill them all. _All of them_ , we need to slaughter the entire lot."

" _Yes_!" A cruel, malicious grin passed over her face and she laid an armored hand upon his cheek, and Lumis closed his eyes and nearly recoiled from the affectionate gesture. This wasn't for him. This was for a dead man whose face he wore. He felt Bo-Katan's strong pulse in the Force, and like him, it was consumed with thoughts of revenge. She was also changed. "I returned to Mandalore as soon as a I heard the news, but by then, the city had stopped burning."

"Where were you?" he snarled, far more wrathful than intended, and instantly, the woman's rage took hold of her and was redirected at the Sith Lord.

"Where was I?!" she cried indignantly. "Satine sent me and my best men to hunt the man that _you_ were supposed to be hunting! Where were _you_?! How could-" She stopped, eyes wide as her throat snapped closed, and she stared in fear and disbelief at her sister's lover, the gold of his eyes burning into her as he coldly appraised her. His breathing was fast and shallow, a rush pleasure spreading through him as he felt her life in his hands, fragile and delicate and _so_ easy to break, a single flame in the light of the Force that could easily be snuffed out. He could do it. _He could do it_.

"I was fighting _Jedi_ ," Lumis said coldly, evenly, as if removed from the constricting force around her throat, and Bo-Katan dropped to her knees as she clawed at the grip around her to no effect. And he continued to hold her, his hand extended as if he were holding something, fingers twitching as he slowly closed the grip. This was the Jedi's fault. He should have been with her, he should have been there. He could have saved her, he could have saved their son, and his strength had failed him. It was...it was _his_ fault...

 _No_! He hissed, his hand tightening and a gurgling gasp was torn from the woman, the Force licking at his mind, and flames were all he saw as his anger deepened his connection to the Dark Side. It wasn't him. It was Maul, it was the Black Sun, the Hutts, the Pykes, every single criminal organization in the vile Shadow Collective. And it was the Jedi. The Jedi and _Skywalker_. The Force was with the Sith, the Force had always been. Lumis snarled in rage, bearing grit teeth as his hold tightened, felt the flame of her life in his hands, small and fragile, and one slip was all it would take to join it to the eternal fires of the Force. It wasn't with him. It couldn't have been. Not if the Force would allow Satine to die, not if it would allow their beautiful son, the one he had seen so often in his visions, to die before he was brought into the world. He had always believed the Force was with the Dark Side, with _him_ , but now, he felt himself the conduit of a power that was complicate in the death of his Satine, and he _hated it_...

"My Lord." The voice was clear, strong and commanding, and his intense focus broke from Bo-Katan, the woman collapsing on the ground and coughing uncontrollably, and a moment later, his attention snapped to Cody, the clone finally making his presence known and bowing to the Sith. Lumis grabbed him with the Force, read him quickly and found... _sympathy_. He shivered. He hadn't felt that since it happened. It wasn't pity, or the warm feel of comfort that he occasionally felt through the Force and quickly pushed away. It was joined mourning. The clone had a slight smile on his face as he helped Bo-Katan to her feet, the woman cautious, but not fearful, the sharpness of her previous anger gone. She had been choked by him before. She did not fear him. "I'm sorry I took so long to return, my Lord," Cody said softly, respectfully, and Lumis laid his hand on the wall, leaning against it to hold himself up. He felt... _weary_.

"It's my fault they're dead," Lumis whispered, turning from the two and dragging his feet as he shuffled away, and both Cody and Bo-Katan rushed to stand at either side of him, the woman looking at him expectantly, as though he would continue, offer an explanation, but he said nothing more.

"It's my fault," Bo-Katan echoed. "I should have been with her. Especially with her son..." her voice cracked, and she quicky cleared her throat. "With _your_ son growing so quickly..."

"You followed the orders of your Mand'alor," Lumis said, his voice smooth, detached and even. "You did as commanded, as you should have."

"As did you. I saw the throne room," she said quietly. "There were a hundred people dead. Did you do that?" The Sith nodded but said nothing, his face cold and expressionless, and even without the Force, the surviving Kryze could feel the fathomless hatred within him, could feel how dangerous he had become on the pale expanse of her throat. "Then you avenged them."

"A hundred men do not make up for your sister," Lumis said lifelessly. "A thousand men do not make up for her. Ten thousand, _a million_ , and it will not be enough."

"It's true she has no equal," she growled, her fists clenching by her side. "But we must have vengeance. If that wasn't enough, we must keep going until we have satisfied our need for revenge."

"Kill them," he whispered. " _All of them_." All of them. The entire Shadow Collective, down to the last man. All the crime families _not_ involved with them. The Black Sun Headquarters on Ord Mantell. The entire planet. The system. The _galaxy_ , all of it must _burn_. Like it or not, the Force worked through Lumis, and all he saw was the fires of his rage. It would all burn. _All of it_. And still, it would not make up for Satine and his son, still would not ease the pain he felt at their loss.

"Mandalore has rallied," Bo-Katan said, her voice tight with excited anger and bloodlust. "I've spent the past week rebuilding my Death Watch, and we are larger than before. Every able body on Mandalore has taken up the armor of our ancestors to avenge Satine." She grabbed his arm, a pleading look in her green eyes. "But it isn't enough. My army is large, but it's untrained, and it's as nothing before a united criminal force."

"The Shadow Collective broke upon the lives of the Death Watch," Lumis growled. "Their army is broken, they have retreated back into the holes they crawled out of."

"And Mandalore will wash over them like a storm!" she snapped, her anger rising, and Lumis could feel the Dark Side grasp him in its claws and pull him out of his self-loathing. Even that hatred made him strong. "You said it yourself, Obi-Wan. Kill them all. And I _will_. I will have nothing less, and neither will the people of Mandalore. They are screaming to avenge the blood of their Mand'alor, and I have promised it to them. Blood will be paid in blood. An _ocean_ of it."

A small smile passed over Lumis' lips, his gold eyes glowing as the fires of the Force burned around him. "What do you need of me?"

"You gifted Satine an army once," she muttered, looking away when the Sith stopped to face her, a red flush upon her high cheeks. "I would ask that you bring me one as well. Obi-Wan," she said softly, her armored hand carefully laying on his strong chest, and she could feel his heart pounding even through the silk of his robes, his body tense as his breath hitched, and she felt a sudden stab of guilt and grief. How often had her sister touched the man like this, felt his beating heart under her delicate hands, stroked the fine hair of the beard on his handsome face as she found herself doing right now. She felt a shiver run through the man as he closed his blazing eyes, and she couldn't help but wonder if he thought of Satine when he looked at her, despite their differences.

"Obi-Wan, the Mandalorians call for the Shadow King," she whispered. "They're calling for _you_. They may have rallied behind me, they may lust for revenge, but they all know the singular truth that I know. We _cannot_ avenge Mand'alor Satine without you."

" _Shadow King_ ," he scoffed, disgust dripping off his words as thick as poison. "I am no king of Mandalore."

"Of course you are," she growled. "My people are not stupid. They know who stood beside their Queen, the first _real_ Mand'alor in a thousand years. They know who Satine sent to her enemies. And they know who put that child inside her."The Sith quickly looked away, and before he could leave, she grabbed his hand and pulled him back, furious eyes flying to her, but she stood unafraid. "Maybe you were not born to us, but you are as Mandalorian as Satine was Sith."

"And your people fly to you now, Bo," Lumis said, soft and distant. "That makes _you_ Mand'alor."

She sucked in a sharp breath, her armored hand clenching into a fist. She had been so consumed with grief, so focused on revenge that she hadn't even considered that it was a possibility that her sister's title had become hers without her even noticing. Despite her death, despite the dissolution of the Mandalorian Empire, Mandalore remained, and shockingly, it remained united. The clans weren't infighting, as so many believed would happen were something to go wrong. The people rose up united against the people that attacked them, and were immediately drawn to the focal point of rage that was Bo-Katan Kryze. She had, inadvertently, become Mand'alor., though to her, the title would always belong to her sister.

"Maybe so..." she whispered. "But that doesn't keep you from being their king."

Perhaps once, it would have pleased him. Once, he would have been king, _Emperor_ of far more than just Mandalore, and the people's cries for help would have fallen on deaf ears had Lumis not possessed a burning need for revenge. "You and I, Bo," he said softly, "will set fire to all the worlds those filth inhabit. We'll kill them all to the last man."

She couldn't keep herself from throwing her arms around the man, exhaling a shuddering breath against his chest, and she felt his powerful hand running absently through her hair. "Thank you, Obi-Wan. We'll make them sorry they even heard of Mandalore."

"Ashes can't hear, Bo," he whispered, clutching her tightly to him for a moment before the clone reached out and touched his arm, and Lumis let the woman go, the proud warrior drawing up to her full height, a victorious smirk on her face.

"I'm returning to Mandalore. We have already begun attacking them, but I'll send scouting teams ahead to see if they can find the dens those rats are hiding in." She didn't wait for a response, and a moment later, Bo-Katan Kryze was tearing down the hallway at top speed, disappearing from sights as she rounded a corner, her armored footfalls slowly fading to a faint echo, than nothing.

"You look awful, My Lord," Cody said firmly when the woman was gone. "You look like you haven't been eating or sleeping in _weeks_." He paused. "And it's only been one week since I last saw you on Mandalore."

"I have no need for such things," he scoffed, dismissive and cold. "I am nourished by the Force."

"Oh yeah?" the clone said in a tone that indicated just how ridiculous the notion was. "The Force stole Satine from you." Gold eyes slowly turned to him, cold and dangerous, but the clone was unafraid. "The Force stole your son from you. And the Force will steal you away as well, if you let it. _Look at you_!" he cried, grabbing the Sith's shoulders, and for the first time _ever_ , Lumis saw his clone, his closest friend, look _worried_. "You need _rest_ , my Lord!"

" _I can't_!" Lumis choked, his voice cracking under strain he didn't know he was carrying. "I close my eyes and I see _fire_. Everywhere, all the time, _always burning_. Sleep brings me nightmares and visions, and they are so _real_ , Cody! I can't keep them away, they _plague me_."

"Alright." Cody nodded, took the Sith's arm, and led him down the hallway toward the stairs that would bring him to his room. "I don't know if I can keep that away from you, my Lord," the clone said gently, "but I can watch over you while you sleep, and I'll be there if anything _does_ happen." The Sith Lord said nothing, but he didn't fight him either. "...I'm sorry about the Mand'alor," the clone said softly, feeling a pang in his heart when the Sith shuddered. "And your son. All the men do. We...stand by you, sir."

"...I know, Cody," Lumis said, his head dropping to the clone's shoulder, weariness overcoming him as they walked the rest of the way in silence.

* * *

They all stood behind Anakin Skywalker, ten blades of blue and green and purple blazing in skilled hands that pointed directly at Lumis, their features obscured by the shadows cast by the fires around them, though he could recognize most. Luminara, Kit Fisto, Mace Windu, Plo Koon, Yoda, faces he expected, and Aayla Secura, a face he did not. Others were present too, others he did not recognize, or were too dark to see. But they were nothing. Lumis lifted his hand, and they _all_ fell. All but Skywalker. His blue blade raised, Skywalker raced toward him, and with a his, his own red saber ignited, clashing with the blue with such ferocity that he could feel the Force shake, the Dark Side roar in fury, raging as it thrashed against the Jedi. They were evenly matched, or had been in their previous fights, but now...

Now it was different. Now, the Dark Side clutched Lumis in it's clawed hands and drowned him within it, and he could feel his lungs fill with the Force, could feel his limbs weaken in his surrender just before he was filled with strength unlike anything he had ever felt. The Force itself trembled with him deep inside it, and it was _all_ his to command. The warm comfort, that hated, painful touch, was grabbed in his forceful hands and bent to his will, made to do _his_ bidding. Abiding by the Force led to the death of Satine, the death of his son, and Lumis would lose no more. Everyone else would be made to lose, _everyone_. They would all suffer the pain that the Force had made him suffer.

With new hatred rushing through him, Lumis found new power, and grabbing his saber in two hands, he brought it down upon Skywalker's blade, the strike not exploding into sparks, but into a blinding flash of light, and when his vision slowly returned, he looked upon the familiar sight of the field of dead Jedi, their bloodied bodies laying in the ash of a fire that consumed _everything_. Still stood the Padawan, teal eyes bright and unafraid as Lumis approached, and far off, far beyond his reach, was the Togruta, her image no longer hazy and uncertain as before. Now, she stood dark, a strong, defined shadow among the field cast in death and darkness. Lumis' breath caught in his throat as he looked upon her, trying to come closer only to find her image moving further and further from him, and he could feel his side burn, his hand drifting to the scar that stood as a reminder of the treachery of the Jedi.

 _Ahsoka Tano_.

Quinlan's little Padawan. There could be no mistake. The memory of old pain shot new rage through him as he looked at the shadow and saw flames flickering at the edges of his vision. He had wanted Quinlan at his side before, wanted to draw his old friend to him to be brothers in the Dark Side. Tano was kept safe _because_ of that. Her death could very likely spur Vos harder against the Sith, give him a personal reason to want to destroy them, one far closer to his heart than the general Jedi consensus. But Quinlan Vos had been Obi-Wan Kenobi's friend. Obi-Wan had coddled Vos, had treated his fall gently and with patience to secure his turn toward darkness. Lumis saw no need for such things. His choice was simple: choose the Dark Side, or choose death. Giving him a choice was a courtesy to all the hard work that Kenobi had sunk into the man, but now, it was enough. The time for gentle treatment was over, and Padawan Tano would die with the rest of them.

After all, _she_ had stabbed him. She had wounded him when he needed to be at his best. If he had killed Maul on Florrum, he never would have made it to Mandalore where he would forever alter the path of the Force. The calm, warm comfort reached out to him again, and he could feel new anger rush through him as the vision trembled and faded away, blowing away like mist on a wind, the soft breath of it tugging at his robes and ruffling his hair, and deep within his mind, he could hear a soft voice call for him. _No_ , not him. The Jedi, Obi-Wan. Gentle and insistent, urgent and soft, the voice seemed familiar, but barely, the thread within his mind pulling at him until he could stand it no longer. He opened his eyes, golden fires in the dark, and saw Qui-Gon before him, his image pale, ethereal as if made of the Force itself.

"Obi-Wan."

Lumis turned from it, his eyes adjusting to the black abyss he stood in, that old, familiar feel of dread coming from behind him, from where Qui-Gon stood guard. He turned his head to look over his shoulder and found the Jedi mere feet from him, and with a startled cry, Lumis staggered back, drawing his lightsaber and pointing it at the Jedi apparition, but the Master didn't move, stayed calm and safe in the comfort of the Force.

"Obi-Wan."

"No," Lumis choked, shaking his head and stepping back. "That isn't me, that man is dead."

Qui-Gon smiled sadly, deep pain within his dark blue eyes, and Lumis felt his heart beat out of time, irregular and jarring, and with grit teeth, he moved his blade closer to the Jedi's chest. "I know," he whispered. "I felt it. They have stolen the heart from inside you."

" _Shut up_ ," he growled, angling his lightsaber up and closing the distance between them, but instead of thrusting the red blade through the Master's chest, the weapon deactivated, the plasma sliding away with a hiss and the cold hilt pressed against the Jedi's heart, and Lumis could not bring himself to switch the blade on. The Force stayed his hand, as it always did, and with a howl of frustration, he tossed the saber aside, and a moment later, he found the Jedi's arms embracing him. He couldn't move. It was... _warm_. Comforting and sympathetic as the Force gently caressed him, and the Jedi's touch _burned_ him. Lumis wriggled away from Qui-Gon and quickly called his weapon back to his hand, the red blade extending with a hiss as he held it before him to ward the Master off. He was _disgusted_. Even after all that it had done, Lumis felt as if he was a slave to the Force, the overwhelming will moving through him without restraint or restriction.

"Do you still follow the will of the Force?" Qui-Gon asked softly, and the Sith reeled on him, his anger rising to dangerous new levels.

"And why should I?" Lumis snarled. "The Force had led me only to pain and betrayal. Maybe the Force is wrong. Maybe it doesn't know _what_ it wants!" The rage dropped from his face, but he could still feel it burning inside him. " _Maybe_ the Force needs a heavy hand to tell it what to do!"

"You don't believe that, Obi-Wan, you-"

" _I trusted the Force on Mandalore_!" he shouted, and again, he felt the warm comfort of the Force, sympathetic and sorrowful, and it burned worse than the darkness ever had, Lumis shut his eyes tight, drank deep of the Dark Side, embraced all his pain, his anger, his suffering, and the feeling faded, giving way to the deep, bleeding wounds within him that both hurt and filled him with relief and satisfaction. He could feel the Force around him shifting and changing, the dull echo of the abyss becoming the rush of a gentle breeze, and when he opened his eyes, he had to squint, shield his vision from twin suns beating down on blinding sands. When his eyes adjusted, Lumis could feel his heart stop in his chest, his breath held, his muscles clenched.

There before him, shimmering like a mirage, was himself, his black cloak draped over his body, his young face showing no signs of being effected by the heat, a result of his tireless training near the lava of Mustafar. He knelt down in the sand, a holocron in each hand, one Jedi and one Sith. And before him, a child, no more than ten years of age with bright blue eyes and hair the color of the sand around them. Nausea gripped him, his focus narrowing to the point of obsession upon the child. Lumis had this vision before. _Many_ times before. _His son_. He began trembling, tried to force the vision away, but the harder he tried, the more vivid it became. But _why_. Why would the Force show him this now when this future was lost and gone. Why would it see the need to show him what he would _never_ have. _Why_ was it so cruel as to flaunt his loss before him.

He couldn't breathe. Lumis turned away and shut his eyes, and digging deep within the Force, embracing the endless wrath of the Dark Side, he welcomed the flames that burned within him, willingly stepped within the inferno and allowed it to rend his being to ashes. The sand was cleared, as was the child, gone in a rush of fire and smoke, and for just a moment, he thought he saw Qui-Gon Jinn, a red lightsaber thrust through his body, and then the flames engulfed him, leaving Lumis burning in its grasp, only to watch helplessly as the fire formed, shifting and taking shape into the indistinguishable face, screaming in the flames. He looked at it in disbelief. For a long time, this vision had left him, certain that this had come to pass, so sure that it was _him_ that was burning, but now...

 _Now_ , as his fury focused him, his rage growing to such heights that the Dark Side screeched and howled at the fearsome power of the Sith Lord that ruled it, he could hear the screams fade to silence, and then slowly, _slowly_ , the deafening silence was punctuated by the even, pendulous sound of heavy, regulated breathing.

Lumis was ripped from sleep, his eyes wide and frantic, his heart pounding against his ribs, his breathing fast and shallow, his forehead and hair drenched in sweat. He felt the Dark Side covering him, it's feral, predatory motions flowing thick through his blood, and when he shut his eyes to calm himself, all he could see was the child and the face in flames. His hands slid into his hair and gripped it tightly, threatening to pull it from its roots, and he howled in rage when he felt the Force, smooth, soft, _warm_ , touch him once again.

" _What do you want from me?!_ "

He didn't understand. The face in the flames was _him_. It was symbolic, yes, but it had been him all the same. This was no longer a vision, it was a memory, a _nightmare_ , and it had no business within him, not anymore. That vision belonged to Obi-Wan Kenobi. That vision was pain and fear, a warning of what was to come, of how the galaxy would burn with him. Darth Lumis had _no_ business with the shadows of the past, nor did the child in the visions mean anything to him. That was not _his_ child. It was Obi-Wan's. And that man was dead. He could feel it within him, the gaping hole that sat deep in his chest that served as Kenobi's final resting place. No light could reach it. Not now. Not ever.

So _what_ could the Force want from him?

The sound of choking brought him out of his reflections, and he saw Cody, on his knees upon the ground and gripping his neck, and Lumis quickly released him, the clone falling to the floor and taking in deep, long gasps of air. Lumis didn't even know he was holding him. When the commander recovered, he slowly rose to his feet and staggered to the bed, dropping upon it to sit on the edge next to his Master.

"I told you I can't sleep," Lumis growled, and Cody affectionately patted the Sith's knee.

"You can. You will. You're tense and you're grieving, and you need the rest, but it's not going to happen until you allow yourself to let go."

"And how do you suppose I do that."

Cody shrugged. "You need alcohol, and you need women."

Lumis' face darkened. " _No_."

"No..." Cody scoffed. "You can't deny yourself women forever, my Lord. You are _Sith_ , you said you thrive on passion."

"Through pain, we grow stronger."

"Yes.." Cody said. "But pain isn't the only thing you can feel deeply."

"I won't love again, Cody," the Sith said firmly, and the man laughed loudly.

"Who said anything about love? Your heart is with the Mand'alor, as it should be. I didn't say you need _a_ woman, I said you need _women_. _Lots_ of them." He shrugged. "Take them and burry yourself within them until that Dark Side of yours is sated and you can get some damn sleep." He paused. "Sir."

Lumis looked down at his hands clasped firmly in his lap, his fingers so tight that his arms shook, not just with tension, but with anger that was barely contained just under his skin, threatening to tear him apart at any moment. "I'll be taking something of a mistress in the very near future," Lumis said softly, and a wide grin formed on the clone's face. "For the Sith, of course. The practice wouldn't hurt."

"Neither will the sleep," Cody groaned as he stood, offering his hand and helping his Master to his feet. "Let's get a few bottles of your strongest stuff and go see Shaak Ti." Lumis arched an eyebrow.

"She is yours."

"What's mine is yours, Master," he drawled. "Besides, it's not like I _love_ her. She's...pleasing to me. And she would be more pleasing to me of she could be pleasing to you. Which I'm sure she'd _love_ " he groaned, rolling his eyes. "The only thing she ever wants is to please you."

"What, sexually?"

Cody scoffed. "No, but I imagine she'd be thrilled that you'd grace her like that. You _are_ her Master, after all." He could feel the Dark Side rise within him, not the gentle, pressing need that he always felt with Satine, but something dominating and carnal that gnawed at the very pit of him. He draped his arm over the clone's shoulder.

"Come, then, Cody." he drawled, a tight, sinister pull to his voice. "We'll make a party of it."


	85. The Palace of Raxulon

"Master, I have a visual on the General."

"Good work, Ahsoka," Quinlan muttered under his breath, his earpiece buzzing with his Padawan's soft cursing, and he could hear her scrambling for purchase on the high ledge she sat on. Vos couldn't see her from where he was. He wouldn't have been able to see her from _anywhere_. The girl was good, _very_ good, and Quinlan had taught her well. Her slight figure, her light weight, her athletic body made her uniquely suited to this sort of work, and with a few more years of experience, she would be a better tracker than he was. "What's he up to?"

"Just watching, Master," the Togruta whispered, and Quinlan lowered his head, pressing his forehead against Ventress' as they ducked into a secluded, quiet corner of the gardens in the courtyard of Raxulon's palace. His hand rested on her hip as he absently kissed at her neck, his focus on his Padawan's voice in his ear, though he was admittedly... _distracted_. It was a formal affair, and only Ahsoka had managed to get out of dressing for the occasion, since they couldn't secure a third invitation, and she snuck in while Ventress provided a distraction, something she proved to be terribly good at. She was flirtations when she wished to be, and with her midriff exposing dress, a long, revealing slit cut up the length of her leg, she had easily managed to enthrall security with light touches and a soft brush of the Force while Ahsoka found a way in. Quinlan found himself captivated as well, and she hadn't yet left his mind.

"He's just outside the security room, Master," Ahsoka continued, and Vos looked around the garden, his dark eyes roaming over other couples similarly engaged. He and Ventress were simply fitting in. "He's perched outside the room on some overhang, he looks like some freakish bird with that cape of his." The Togruta snorted as she held back laughter, and the Kiffar smiled against the crook of Ventress' neck as he kissed it, the Nightsister hissing as she gently tried to push him away. "You should be able to see him from your current location, Master."

Vos looked up, his sharp eyes observing the overhangs of the palace, but he could see nothing, Frowning, he was about to ask Ahsoka to elaborate when he saw a faint glint of light out if the corner of his eye, and he looked up behind him to see Raxus' sun glinting off the cybernetic body of the Confederacy's General. "I see him, Ahsoka," he whispered. "Do you have a plan?"

"Yeah, I have it all mapped out, Master," the Togruta said. "I'll get Grievous out of the way for you. I've already sabotaged the droids in the security room. All surveillance is down to line of sight." Ahsoka stopped talking when she heard Vos groan, deep and guttural and laden with desire, and through their connection, she could feel lust rip through him. She rolled her eyes. The past few days saw her Master happier than she had ever seen him, and it was Ventress' fault. She wasn't a stranger to Vos indulging, but this was different, all at once focusing him and leaving him distracted.

Vos felt the sharp tug of his Padawan on his consciousness, and he refocused, his hand brushing Ventress hip as she glared at him. "Well done," he whispered. "Anything else?"

"Yeah. I saw him, Master." Vos felt his chest tighten, his hand tightly gripping Ventress, and the woman looked at him nervously. "I saw Pong Krell." Vos and Ventress both breathed a sigh of relief, his relaxation immediately easing her.

"Any sign of Kenobi?"

"No, Master. I haven't seen him, though a lot of people are talking about him and wondering why he isn't here. It seems like the rumors of his involvement with the Mandalorians has gotten around. If he's here, Master, I haven't seen him, and neither has anyone else."

"Keep an eye out, Ahsoka," Vos said. "I'll let you know when Ventress and I are ready to move." The Padawan muttered a swift affirmative and the com was cut, and Vos grabbed Ventress' hand and pulled her out of their secluded corner and into the gardens, walking slowly and carefully observing the couples as they touched and kissed, their human and alien features stained with the flush of intoxication and arousal.

The ceremony had been beautiful, in a way, and despite Vos' reluctance to admit it, Dooku spoke well, his deep, sonorous voice carrying weight and gravitas and respect in his patrician tones. Hatred raced through him to hear the Sith Lord, but through it, he felt the pangs of sympathy for his friend, and he grasped Ventress' hand tighter. The rage in her wasn't nearly as intense as Vos had expected it would be to be in the presence of her former Master. Instead, she was just pained, uncomfortable, and he could feel her anxiousness to do what must be done and leave as quickly as possible. Vos wondered what it would be like to lose her, as Obi-Wan had lost Satine, and he didn't feel the spike of rage like he expected, he just felt... _lost_. Quinlan looked at her face, studied her every feature, memorized every detail just in case it was the last time he saw her.

"Is there any chance of you being recognized?" Vos asked Ventress, and she shook her head.

"I was a Sith Assassin. I kept to the shadows. These people would know me by reputation, not by sight." She drew closer to Quinlan as they meandered out of the gardens and into the courtyard, slowly making their way to the open doors of the palace where throngs of politicians and important guests milled about and socialized. Dooku was in there somewhere. "Remember," she whispered. "I'll trail Dooku. You will vanish and see if you can find Krell or Kenobi and move yourself into position. If something goes wrong and he is alerted to my presence, we don't want him to know I have an ally."

"And you'll be safe?" Vos asked, concerned, and Ventress flashed him a small, careful smile that made his heart race.

"Dooku won't do anything so publically. He's too careful for that. He has an image to maintain here, a great deal of the war effort is dependent on what _these_ people think of him."

Vos nodded in understanding. "Than I will see you soon, yes?" Ventress nodded, and Vos gave her one last look before he disappeared into the crowed, and made himself lost within the mighty expanse of the palace.

The comlink on his wrist had a map of the palace downloaded to it, but Vos navigated the labyrinth of corridors and halls and rooms both large and small through feel alone. He kept his presence small and muted, which would make him difficult to detect through the Force. He ran his hands over walls and objects, touching them with the Force to sense what had recently transpired, if anything of note _did_ happen. He didn't find anything interesting, not even the slightest hint that the Count may have been wandering these halls, and he began to wonder if Dooku spent any time here at all. The deepest reaches of the palace held all manner of beings looking to get away from the mass of the party, from those that simply needed time alone, to those who were sick from too much alcohol. Others still retreated to engage in elicit behavior, whether with drugs or sex, and Vos made quick mental notes of all of it, though he _did_ try to banish some of the images that were burned into his mind of various non-human species and their array of tentacles, probes, digits and... _others_ entwining in ways that screamed of intimacy.

If the Count or Kenobi or any of the other Sith spent time on Raxus, than they did an amazing job covering their tracks, for Quinlan could find nothing of the Dark Side in the palace, no dark strain in the numerous, twisting halls, nothing sinister in the spacious rooms. Every now and again, he'd think he'd felt a touch of something dark and dangerous, but tuning in deeper into the Force revealed nothing at all. He was nervous, yes, and jumping at shadows. Everything would be fine. Dooku would die, and he and Ventress and Ahsoka would go home. He'd leave the Dark Side behind, recommit himself to the war, finish Ahsoka's training to Knighthood, maybe find a way to be together with Ventress. Anakin did it with a Senator, so there was no reason that he couldn't either.

Suddenly, he found it, a strong, powerful pulse in the Force that set the Dark Side into motion, and quietly, Quinlan kept to the shadows and followed its pull, up and up and up, far away from the wide, open spaces of the courtyards and vast dining rooms where the invited guests gathered to meet with the leaders of the Separatists. He kept to smaller stairwells tucked away out of sight, passages meant for servants, he suspected, and after a long, tiring climb through endless identical corridors, the passageway opened up into a huge, domed room in the upper reaches of the palace. He peaked out, and recognized it immediately to be the library, and he closed his eyes, imagined the adjacent room, a study of sorts he had seen on the map, with wide doors that opened up on to the balcony from which Dooku gave his speech earlier.

Here, the Dark Side was _thick,_ stifling and oppressive. Someone was here. For a moment, he feared it might be Kenobi, and it took everything in him to command his heart to beat slower, a smooth, light beat in his chest to accompany his silent breathing. Carefully, he crept out to the railing of his perch and peered down below, and he saw Pong Krell, the Besalisk Jedi Master presumed dead on Umbara. Quinlan felt a flash of rage fly through him, and as soon as he did, Krell's eyes opened, his quiet meditation disturbed, and he looked up just as Vos had ducked back into the hallway, masking his presence as best as he could and calming himself.

Vos took no chances and quickly, _silently_ left the library, finding himself a small, closed space to sit in and hide, and just as he was about to contact Ventress, the com in his ear buzzed. "Vos," Ventress hissed. "I think Dooku sensed me. He's moving. What's your location?"

"The upper library," he whispered. "I found Krell, he's here." Ventress hissed in frustration and cursed under her breath.

"It will take both of us to kill Dooku. I don't know if it's possible if we have another Sith involved. You need to take him out before Dooku gets there, he's heading in that direction, from the look of it."

Vos inhaled deeply, closed his eyes, and touched the Force. Ventress had trained him well, but Pong Krell was a Jedi Master, and a damn fine one, before he became... _whatever_ it was that he was now. The man had betrayed the Jedi, and that had angered him, but he knew it was too little. He _could_ reach deeper into the Dark Side, draw deep of the endless font of power, but Vos found that he lacked the motivation. His focus was on Dooku, all his wrath turned on him, and today he would have his vengeance. For the galaxy. For the Jedi. For Master Tholme. His hand tightened around his lightsaber as he felt the Dark Side rush through him, his caution slowly fading as murderous intent took over. He wouldn't be stopped. Not here, not by Krell, not when he was _so close_ to his Master's slayer, so close to ending the war. His anger gave him focus, Asajj had said, his anger gave him _focus_...

"I feel this is a fight I can't end quickly," Vos hissed. "Not even if I catch him off-guard, which I suspect I won't. I think he sensed me too. If he hasn't contacted Dooku yet, he will soon."

"...I'll see what I can do to buy you time," Ventress said after a long pause. "Contact Ahsoka. If Grievous has gotten word from Dooku, have her begin her attack." The com cut, and Vos quickly put himself through to Ahsoka, the young Togruta answering immediately.

"I was _just_ calling you, Master," she said fast and frantic. "Grievous is on the com with Dooku _right_ _now_!"

"The moment they are done talking, begin your attack," Vos said. "If we do it before, he will be _certain_ something is wrong, and right now, he's just _mostly_ certain."

"Copy that, Master," Tano said quickly, and the com fell silent. Quinlan took a deep breath and stepped out into the hall, heading quickly toward the railing around the upper levels of the library. He was on his own now. He looked down below where Krell was to find the Besalisk had risen from his seated position and was now making his way toward the exit, and panic gripped Vos. He was too far away to attack him outright, too far away to effectively intercept him. He was going to lose Krell. Vos extended his hand, and focused beyond the fallen Jedi toward the control panel in the wall, grabbed hold of it with the Force and pulled hard, the wires and circuits frying and snapping under his grip, and with a low, dying whine, the power within the room shut off, the only lighting coming from the moon as it just began to rise. Through the dark, Vos could see golden eyes staring at him.

The Kiffar jumped off the rail and landed in the spacious room below, his landing easy and graceful as he stood his full height, head and shoulders smaller than the other in the room, and stared right back at Krell, the Besalisk's eyes narrowed as he observed him. "I thought I sensed a rat," the former Jedi snarled, his powerful hands reaching to grab the huge hilts of his double-sided lightsabers, the blades extending with a unified hiss and bathing the area in red light. "Quinlan Vos...Master Lumis speaks about you a _great_ deal."

Quinlan took his own green blade into his hand, the glowing saber looking small and thin in comparison to Krell's mighty blades. "Master Lumis?" he asked. "You allowed _Obi-Wan_ to train you?"

Krell laughed loudly. "No, though I had asked him. Dooku is my Master."

"Ah." It was as Ventress had said. He grit his teeth and held his blade out before him. He was short on time. "Is Obi-Wan here?"

Krell laughed. "No. But last I heard, Master Lumis was looking for you."

Quinlan nodded, a grin on his face as he slowly advanced. "I'd love to stay and chat, but I just don't have the time." He quickly reached out, his hand closing into a crushing fist, and with a growl of pain, the comlink on Krell's wrist shattered, the bent and twisting metal digging into the tough flesh of his arm. "Can't have you contacting Dooku, now can I?"

With a snarl of rage, Krell crouched down and sprung toward the Kiffar, the red blades blazing around him, and Quinlan ducked underneath them, skidding to a stop behind the Besalisk and flipping up into the air when the enormous man turned on him with unexpected speed for someone his size. He lashed out with his blade, but quickly had to twist in the air and block the ferocious weapons as they arched up toward him, the red sabers seeming to scream in the air as they fought. Vos could hear the crackling of the broken control console on the wall behind him, and he grit his teeth as he blocked a series of savage strikes from Krell. They were trapped within the library. He _could_ cut himself out, but not while the former Jedi was alive, not while he had to make certain that this creature didn't run to Dooku's aid.

The com in his ear crackled, and Quinlan only just managed to lean back out of the way as the red blades slashed right in front of his face. "Master, I've succeeded in trapping Grievous within the security tunnels!" Ahsoka said, her voice tight and strained with hard, heavy breathing as she ran. "I have his lightsabers, and I broke his comlink, as we discussed. He's sealed in, but I don't know how long it will hold." Vos would have beamed like an idiot, congratulated his young Padawan for her good work, but he couldn't divert his attention from Krell, not for a moment, or those wicked blades would kill him in an instant.

"Master?" Ahsoka asked, a hint of worry beginning to stain her voice, but Quinlan couldn't answer. Bearing his teeth as rage filled him, Vos gripped hold of the Dark Side and used it to fuel his strength, fill him with power, give additional weight to his already powerful strikes, but Krell was ready. He was being fueled by the Dark Side too. Vos thought that, perhaps, Krell would still be considered new, would still be very early within his apprenticeship in the Dark Side, wouldn't have the powers of a Sith yet. After all, it had only been five months since the battle of Umbara, and five months wasn't enough time to learn _anything_. However, the Besalisk was proving to be more than formidable, and he met Quinlan's use of the Dark Side with darkness of his own.

"Master," Ahsoka growled over the com. "You stay where you are. I'm coming to find you." The earpiece fell silent, and with a deep breath, Vos sunk deeper into the Force and shifted his lightsaber style from Ataru to something darker, something more dangerous, something that had been forbidden to him by the Jedi since he walked so close to the edge of darkness. Vaapad. Mace Windu's style, a style that Quinlan learned, but had been afraid to use since the battle of Christophsis. He keenly remembered how angry he had become, how close to the Dark Side he danced, and how Kenobi had used this to get deep within his mind and assume control. Vos always knew there was darkness within him, but in that moment, when he had Obi-Wan's hands deep within his mind, he had felt the call of the Dark Side, soft and sweet and seductive, and he had almost taken it. The use of Vaapad drove him closer to darkness than he had ever been, and the Sith Lord had been quick to abuse it.

But that was before.

Now, with his training in the Dark Side, he had spent so long beside actual darkness, had stepped within it, had tasted the power it gave him, and he would not shy away from it again. He reached out with the Force to feel Krell's anger, his hatred, his rage through the Force, and Vos took it deep within himself, effortlessly evading and blocking and dodging as the Dark Side drove him to be stronger and faster. With a breath of the Dark Side, Vos slipped into Vaapad, his blade moving so fast it blurred in the air, his strikes furious and random as he fed off Krell's well of the Dark Side, and the more angry, the more frustrated the Besalisk became, the stronger Quinlan grew.

The idea was not to allow the Dark Side to touch you, to feed off the power brought by darkness while keeping yourself removed and untouched, but Vos had always been too close to the edge to do it safely, and now, without his old reservations to hold him back, there was no stopping the Dark Side from seeping deep within him. And he was _powerful_ , the true potential of the Jedi's Vaapad realized as the Dark Side was embraced. Vos moved almost too quick to be seen, his increased aggression channeled into a furious offense that left no room, no time to defend as he pushed Krell back, the Besalisk reluctantly retreating from the rain of furious blows. Vos' slashes hit Krell's defense so hard that a shower of sparks sprang from each and every hit of green plasma on red.

Vos and Krell were evenly matched, their green and red blades flying, and though Vos had the advantage of his furious offensive, he couldn't get past the absolute flurry of the spinning red blades the Krell employed. Every time he saw an opening and moved to strike, another end of the saber was there to cover the weakness. If the Besalisk fought with _one_ blade, or even two, the Kiffar would have had him several times over, but Krell had four blades in his employ, and put them to use with the skill of a Jedi Master and the wrath of a Dark Side apprentice. In another's hands, the blades would have been cumbersome, but Krell's four arms made easy work of the graceful swings, wielding them with the ease that Vos did with just his one. And still, the Kiffar knew that this fight was far easier than the one that awaited him. Alone against Krell, he was evenly matched, but alone against Dooku, and he would die. He needed Ventress to even have a chance at bringing down the Count, but if he had a partner here, than Krell would fall quickly...

Quinlan saw movement out of the corner of his eye, a swift, lithe figure flying toward them, two green blades extended and held in her backhanded grip as Ahsoka fell from the library's second story, twisting in the air and lashing out against the Besalisk, and Krell only just managed to bring one of the double-bladed weapons up in time to catch the Togruta's slash. As the sabers hit, Ahsoka twisted her body around, bringing her feet over Krell's blade and landing on the Besalisk's lower arm. Krell wrenched his blade around too late to catch her and the red struck green just as Ahsoka's second blade slid between the two arms on Krell's right side. Yellow eyes widened in pain as he spun away from the Jedi, keeping the blade from penetrating too deep and the sudden movement causing Ahsoka to lose her footing in the moment before she could jump away. Krell let go of his saber with one of his hands and grabbed for the Togruta, thick fingers wrapping around her ankle, but his focus was on the furious Kiffar as Vos redoubled his efforts to bring the Sith apprentice down.

Krell slashed across his body at the Togruta in his grasp, but the girl curled her strong body up toward the hand that held her and the blade passed harmlessly underneath her. With a growl of frustration at her capture, she brought her sabers up and stabbed them into the arm that held her, the thin blades piercing the Besalisk's skin, and with a howl of pain and fury, Krell dropped the Padawan, the fury of his focus shifting from Vos to Tano. He slashed up at the girl as she fell, but Ahsoka held her blade out and ready to slide safely along the red blade, and as her feet safely touched the ground, she extended her second saber above her, Krell's weapon spinning around her own as it whipped around to strike her. She ducked underneath, cutting across with her offhand weapon as she did, and the green saber connected with the hilt of the red, severing it in two as the red blades flickered off with a crackle.

It was over, and Vos knew it, could feel the change in the Force as Krell's fury built and focused on Ahsoka, the little girl that had struck him, disarmed him of his secondary blades, and now crouched on the ground defiantly, blades at the ready and muscles trembling in anticipation of a renewed assault. The com in his ear crackled to life, his attention diverted for just a moment when his name was gently whispered. _Ventress_.

"Where are you?" she hissed under her breath as Vos charged after the Besalisk as Krell once again engaged his Padawan, the red weapon swinging wildly as his wrath grew, the little Togruta taking evasive action and blocking each strike, sparks flying into the air as the blades made fast, hard contact. "Dooku's here, he's on the balcony, he _knows_ I'm here."

"Get his attention," Vos whispered, closing his eyes and sinking deep into the Force and grabbed hold of its power. "I'm on the way now." He was out of time, and while Krell was on his last leg, it could be some time before he and Ahsoka managed to bring him down, especially with how angry he had become, _especially_ with how that anger was translating directly into a frightening increase of his power. Vos cloaked himself in the Force, allowed his anger, his fear, his panic to take hold of him, and he felt his strength growing. He remembered Obi-Wan, the way he had suffered as a Jedi, the way he must be suffering now, and the lessons that he had taught him. Kenobi had taken his hand and led him toward the Dark Side, toward ultimate, unlimited power, had been there with him on Florrum, his shadowy presence in his mind as Vos committed his first murder, and through it all, he remembered what he hd been taught, not just by Kenobi, but by the Jedi and Ventress as well. A lightsaber in hand was a fine weapon, but there was no weapon more powerful than the Force.

His rage peaked, and Vos grabbed the Force and threw it at Krell, the mighty power of it driving the Besalisk off-balance and sliding back along the ground, his lightsaber digging into the ground to stop him, but the blade cut through the floor like it was nothing at all. With another push, Vos slammed the Force into Krell once again and the former Jedi flew back, striking one of the long windows as he did, the glass shattering under the massive weight of the creature, and then he was gone. Out of breath, Ahsoka and Vos rushed to the broken window and looked down below, the flora of the gardens small beneath them, the specks of the patrolling battle droids rushing to surround the Besalisk on the ground. They couldn't see if he was moving or not.

"We need to go," Quinlan said softly, taking his Padawan's hand and rushing toward the door on the far end of the library. Together, they cut through the thick steel, the ruined controls sparking and hissing on the wall beside them, and a moment later, they were running down the hall to get to the door of the adjacent room. The door hissed open, and the two Jedi rushed in, lightsabers thrumming in the air, and they looked upon Dooku, his broad shoulders relaxed, his entire countenance at ease and holding a glass of wine in his hand. Ventress stood on the other side of him, her blades drawn, and Vos locked eyes with her and smiled in relief, his heart beating against his chest to see the woman alive. Ventress' face was cold, hiding her every thought, every feeling, but the look from the Jedi didn't go without Dooku's notice.

"So you _did_ bring an ally, my failed apprentice," the Count said, amusement in his deep voice, and it made Ventress visibly cringe. "And Jedi, no less." His dark brown eyes looked over the newcomers, a faint smile on his lips, and he drank from the wine in his glass. "You'll never take me alive."

"That isn't the intention," Vos snarled, stepping forward and blade raised, and again, Dooku looked between Vos and Ventress, his eyes widening with sudden realization. Vos and Ventress charged him together, and Dooku artfully stepped out of the way, his own lightsaber flying to his hand and activating with a deep hiss just in time to fend off Ahsoka as she attacked. Dooku barely moved his lightsaber, the red blade effortlessly parrying and deflecting the savage strikes from the young Togruta as he focused on Vos, felt the Dark Side rush to the Jedi in a wave of power and anger. The Jedi Master rushed to him, green blade held in both hands as he clashed with Dooku's red, and the Sith Lord, with a careless swipe of his hand, threw Ahsoka out of the way, the Padawan striking the far wall with a gasp of pain, and the Count grinned when he felt the Kiffar's rage grow.

Dooku effortlessly parried Vos' wild, savage strikes, his back toward Ventress when he felt her coming, and he ducked under her slash, spun around and danced between the two so they were forced to guard against injuring each other as they attempted to slay the Sith Lord. Ventress cursed as Dooku blocked, stabbing forward with her second blade, and Dooku spun out of the way, the tip of her red saber nearly stabbing Vos. It became more chaotic when Ahsoka had recovered and joined the fray, adding two more blades to the fight against Dooku, but also two more blades for the other two to avoid, and Dooku artfully ducked and dodged between them, allowing his enemies to inconvenience each other.

With a snarl, Ventress dug deep into the Force and back flipped over the Count just as he brought his blade swinging toward her. Their tactic wasn't working, and surrounding him was causing more harm than good. Picking up on what she was trying to do, Vos dodged out of the way to allow her to land, blocking Dooku's blade as he did so, but he couldn't move his weapon fast enough to catch the red saber again as the Count whipped it around, catching the Kiffar on the side with a glancing blow. Quinlan hissed in pain, gripped his side with his free hand, and both Ahsoka and Ventress watched as Vos' face, filled with pain, quickly hardened into anger. With the Dark Side flowing through him, Vos renewed his assault, faster and more vicious than before, and finally, Dooku was forced back.

With the Sith on the retreat, the three pressed their advantage, trying to fan out around him, but Dooku moved back too swiftly, knew the room too well. With a growl of irritation, Ahsoka made to jump over the Count, and just as she leapt, a brutal wave of the Force crashed into her, sending her flying across the room to strike a wall with such force that spidering cracks raced out from the point of impact, and she fell to the floor, dazed. She could hear her Master screaming for her, could see the blurry images of green and red lights swinging and arching through the air, and before she could rise to her feet, she found herself lifted once again, a tight, choking grasp upon her throat. Blackness began to creep in from the edges of her vision, and suddenly, she felt the wind rushing as she was thrown again, her head striking the stone railing of the balcony outside, and Ahsoka's vision exploded in white, and she saw nothing else.

With Ahsoka hurt and out of the fight, Vos' rage exploded, his vision going red as he looked at the Sith as he struck high and low, stabbing and slashing at random, but the Count easily countered and deflected his strikes, his quick, graceful movements keeping Vos and Ventress from engaging him together. With a snarl of fury, Ventress stabbed forward at him when she saw an opening, and realized too late that she had overextended when Dooku spun out of her way, caught her wrist in his free hand, and whipped her around, slamming her into the wall beside him with his considerable strength augmented by the Force. A moment later, and she too was lifted into the air, the choking grasp around her neck, and her lightsabers dropped as she clawed against her invisible restraint.

Vos renewed his efforts, fighting faster and harder than before in an attempt to disrupt the Count's focus and free Ventress, but it was to no avail. As Ventress choked, as he could _feel_ the life being squeezed out of her, fury filled the Jedi, the Dark Side griping him as his focus narrowed and one, singular thing echoed through his mind until he could hear nothing else: _kill Dooku_. The Count smirked wickedly when he saw murder come into the Jedi's eyes, his red blade sliding along the green as he redirected Quinlan's weapon, countering and parrying quickly when Vos increased his speed.

"You fight well," Dooku said softly, his voice low and almost impressed. "For a Jedi," he added as an afterthought, and a gleam of something all too familiar came to the Kiffar's eyes.

"I had a good teacher," he snarled, viciously slashing upwards and quickly redirecting the blade to stab forward, the sudden, random movement almost catching the Count in the shoulder, and the Sith's eyes widened in surprise, but narrowed again when he looked at Ventress in the air. With a wave of his hand through the air, Dooku sent the woman slamming hard on to the ground, back up into the air, and then out the wide balcony doors to skid to a halt next to Ahsoka, blood trailing on the ground behind her.

Fury filled Vos, more violent than before, and he embraced it, just as he was taught, took the Dark Side into his hands and allowed it to run freely through him, wild and untamed, but the look on the Count's face nearly made the Jedi lose his focus. He looked as though he had pulled a winning card, like he had already won this fight. Perhaps he had, but it wasn't over until Vos said it was over. He charged the Sith again, letting his fury guide his blade, but the Sith Lord just chuckled, his deep brown eyes filled with amused satisfaction.

"Ventress taught you, has she?" the Count asked, and Quinlan grit his teeth and pressed forward. "She's given you a taste of the Dark Side, and...perhaps _other_ things as well." There was an insufferable smirk on the Sith's face, and Vos aimed his lightsaber right at it in an attempt to separate the man's head from his body, but the Count lightly evaded, his red blade deflecting the raining blows with ease. Without the others to divert his attention, Dooku's focus was centered on Vos, and it was making it nearly impossible to find an opening. Once, Dooku had been among the greatest swordsmen of the Jedi Order, and with the Dark Side to fuel his powers, it only made him more skilled.

"How many Jedi vows have you broken just to destroy me, Vos?" Dooku asked, and Quinlan felt his body surge with power, his thoughts consumed with revenge as images of his fallen Master flashed through his mind. He grit his teeth and tried to stem the tide, knew full well what drinking too deep of the Dark Side yielded, and the Sith took advantage of his struggle, and before Vos knew what had happened, Dooku had forced the Jedi's back against the wall, and Quinlan wildly parried the quick cuts, the swift stabs that seemed to dart in at him from all angles. And yet...

In his passion for revenge for his Master, for the Republic, consumed with the feelings of lust, possibly even love, between him and Ventress, it had been so, so easy to focus on all the Dark Side had given him, on all he had gained in his quest to end the war. He hadn't once thought of what he stood to lose were he to lose himself. He looked over to the balcony, saw Ventress and Ahsoka stirring, rising to shaking legs, stumbling to find balance, both women weary and bleeding. He stood to lose them both, not later, not if the Dark Side were to take him, but _now_. He had the best of intentions to come here and do this thing, but it was the Dark Side that had led him here, and he had willingly allowed it.

" _Idiot_!" It was Ventress, the woman standing and wavering on unstable legs, he hand tightly grasping the railing as she helped the Padawan to her feet. "Don't listen to him, he's trying to lead you astray! Focus!"

_Focus_. Vos could do that. With a snarl of rage, he stepped out of the way of one of Dooku's blades, spun around and caught the red blade as it sliced toward him with his own weapon. Dooku simply chuckled.

"You're stronger than Ventress ever was," Dooku growled as he was forced to retreat, the Jedi having found renewed strength. "She is _using_ you."

"You can't deceive me, Sith."

"There's power deep inside you, Vos," Dooku said, ignoring the Jedi and parrying his fast, aggressive assault. "Ventress hasn't taught you your true potential. She seeks to control you, Vos, and she can't control what's stronger than she is."

Ventress' blades came sweeping down toward Dooku, recalled to her hand when the two men were occupied, and the Sith sidestepped, bringing his blade up and around to deflect the slashing green lightsabers of Ahsoka Tano, both women having recovered enough to rejoin the fight, but Vos was... _shaken_. There was something dark that slept deep within him, something that Ventress had warned him about, something that she said he must never touch. He knew it was dangerous, he _knew_ it was because the Dark Side was seductive, a trap that was so, so difficult to come away from, that embracing that darkest part of him would lead to ruin...

But a thin tendril of doubt began to creep into his mind. Was Dooku right? Was Ventress holding him back? They had to defeat Dooku, they _had_ to kill him, and if sinking that deep into the Dark Side could give him the strength he needed, than why avoid it? Why not use a tool they desperately needed? Vos looked at the women as they fought the Sith, Dooku easily blocking their weakened strikes, and he brushed the thought away. Ventress was right, Dooku was trying to lead him astray. He couldn't touch that final layer of darkness, lest he lose himself. He needed to stay focused. For Ventress. For Ahsoka.

He rejoined the fight, his focus returned, and Dooku's eyes shot to him, blazing with fury and narrowing in focus, the amusement dropping from his face as rage settled in. Dooku wielded the Force the way he wielded his lightsaber, and the three combatants found themselves thrown back, flipping in the air and landing on their feet and prepared to rush back in when the door hissed open and the room instantly grew colder. Vos' eyes widened in terror, and Dooku instantly knocked him down to the ground, the Jedi scrambling to get back to his feet, but the Count bore down upon him, stabbing and slashing at him with his lightsaber as Vos barely managed to deflect the rain of blows. His focus kept shifting to the door, watching with wide, fearful eyes as Grievous and Pong Krell strode into the room, and between them both was Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Vos swallowed hard, his focus shifting back to Dooku when the red saber dug into the floor right beside his head. Obi-Wan wasn't supposed to be there, nobody had seen him, nobody had felt him. His old friend looked cold, removed, as if he were simply observing a dull painting. There was no recognition on his face, no rage upon him, no frantic desperation, none of the sly grins that Vos had always been greeted with in the past. There was only frigid hatred in those blazing eyes.

He stopped, observed the scene, and pointed to Ahsoka and Ventress, the cyborg's stolen lightsabers attached to the Togruta's belt flying to the Sith's hand. "Kill them," he quietly commanded to the men at his side, tossing the sabers to them, and with snarls of acknowledgment, Grievous and Krell ignited their lightsabers and rushed past Vos and Dooku to engage the two terrified women.

Vos frantically began struggling, renewing his efforts to get away from Dooku so he could rejoin Ventress and Ahsoka, give them all a chance to escape. When the blade sunk into the ground by his head once again, he saw his opportunity, swiftly grabbed the Count's wrist and yanked him down, using the momentum to pull himself up, and a moment later, their positions had been reversed, and it was Dooku defending himself from the ground against a furious Vos. It would be worth it if Dooku died, even if Kenobi would kill them all for it. If he could just get past his guard, if he could just...

His green blade circled Dooku's, and with a flick of his wrist, the Count's lightsaber went flying from his hand. A surge of victory rushed through him, the Jedi's eyes glinting dangerously as he looked at the prone Sith, and with a deep laugh, Vos angled his green blade down, the point aimed at the Sith Lord's heart. It was _over_. This was a deliberate execution, and Vos could feel the Dark Side pulse within him, howl with triumph as he brought the blade down.

Before the green blade could sink into Dooku's heart, Vos was wrenched sideways, and he found his downward stab was suddenly thrusting up into the air as he slammed down to the ground, the wind knocked out of him as he fell and his lightsaber rolling away from his grasp. A moment later, he groaned in pain when Kenobi's knee slammed down onto his chest, pinning him there and preventing the Jedi's lungs from expanding. He reached up, tried to push his old friend off of him, but found his strength suddenly sapped, tried to reach for the darkness but found it wasn't there. His power was deprived, drawn to the cold fury of the Sith above him, the blazing golden eyes glaring down at his prone form. Vos looked to his lightsaber, not so very far away, reached out to call it to him, but the Sith Lord followed his gaze, and with a flick of his wrist, the Master's lightsaber was flung out the doors and over the railing of the balcony, and Vos watched, devastated, as his weapon dropped from sight. It was over. They had lost.

A shriek of surprise caught Vos' attention, and he swiftly turned his head, his eyes wide with fear as he watched General Grievous charge toward his Padawan, his heavy strikes sending her off-balance. A surge of strength went through him, and he knocked Kenobi loose, and Quinlan quickly rolled onto his stomach, raised onto his hands and the balls of his feet, and felt the Sith's foot on his back, shoving him back down to the ground. He struggled, gasping for breath and howling for his Padawan, and he watched helplessly, _desperately_ as Grievous caught Ahsoka in his clawed hands, his forward momentum sending both cyborg and Togruta tumbling over the railing of the balcony.

"Obi-Wan!" Vos cried desperately, struggling with all his might, but it wasn't enough. He watched as Dooku turned from the other Sith, his blade in hand, and slowly advanced toward Ventress, the woman engaged in her own furious duel with Pong Krell. She was tired, injured, her energy nearly depleted, and while she was good enough to cover up any mistake she made in her fatigue, Vos knew it would not last. She was going to die. Ahsoka may already be dead. He closed his eyes, reached out through their connection, tried to feel for the Padawan he loved and cherished, and instead felt Kenobi's hand on his head, his long, elegant fingers sliding into his hair, his thick, poisonous touch slipping into his mind. Whatever connection that existed between himself and Ahsoka, the powerful bond between them, was obscured when darkness surrounded him, seductive and soothing as he felt it burn within him.

"Obi-Wan!" he tried again, desperate, wiggling under the Sith's grasp, but the man did not respond. "Obi-Wan, _please_! Let me go! Help me get my revenge, we can do it _together_!"

"Lumis," Dooku called, and Vos watched out of the corner of his eye as Kenobi's gaze shot away from him and toward the other Sith. "Do you have any use for her?" he asked, pointing his blade toward Ventress, and Quinlan felt the dark hold in his mind suddenly begin to blaze with searing heat. He started to shut his eyes against the pain, but pushed it aside and instead looked at Ventress, the woman backed out onto the balcony, her eyes wide and afraid.

"She has served her purpose," the Sith Lord said coldly, and Vos involuntarily shivered, renewed his struggle and found it just as futile as before. "She means nothing to me. Kill her."

" _No_!" Ventress cried, backing up, and Vos struggled, reached out toward her as Dooku turned and began to advance. "Obi-Wan, please, I'm sorry!" Vos could feel Kenobi above him, cold and still, felt him shift as his knee replaced the foot on his back, and Vos groaned loudly as he felt Obi-Wan flood his mind with darkness. He watched Ventress, the woman afraid, her lightsabers raised, as she looked over the railing, than back toward Vos. For a moment, Quinlan thought she would run toward him, take her chances against the blades of the Sith and his apprentice in a last attempt to get to Vos. His hazy mind suddenly snapped to attention, the Dark Side savagely pulling against him and drawing the fog from his mind. He's renewed struggles stopped when Kenobi's other hand laid on his shoulder, pressing him down as the Sith leaned all his weight upon him.

"I want you to watch this, Quin," Lumis whispered in Vos' ear, and the Jedi trembled at how cold his friend sounded, how tight the accented voice was with hatred and wrath. "She betrayed me once, and it led to the slaughter of her people, the rise of Maul, the death of Satine and my son..." Vos felt a stab of pain go through him. He wasn't sure if it was true, or if it was a warped perception of what had actually happened, but the pain in his friend wounded him. He opened his mouth to speak, but found his throat suddenly closed, and he gasped as he watched Ventress look over the rail, back at him, at the Sith that were advancing on her. "Hush, Quin," Lumis hissed, the hand tightening in his hair, the shadowy grasp in his mind closing in once again. "There's no room for sympathy in the Sith. Just revenge. _Only_ revenge."

He couldn't take his eyes off Ventress as he gasped for air, the edges of his vision beginning to blacken with the threat of unconsciousness, but he fought it off. She raised her weapons, poised and committed to fight, and the last thing Vos saw of Asajj Ventress, the woman he was falling in love with, was her back as she turned on him and leap over the railing, abandoning him to the mercy of the Sith. He could feel Kenobi shudder above him when pain and betrayal rushed through the Jedi, exhaling with a soft, shivering moan at the feel of the Dark Side pooling around them, and Vos felt his mind haze again with the feel of Obi-Wan's hands combing through his mind.

"Krell, go after her," he heard Dooku command, but his voice was faded, distant, as if he were underwater. He saw the Besalisk kneel before his Master, grumble his obedience, and leap over the rail after the rouge Nightsister. Vos hoped she escaped. Even though she left him there, he knew very well that these was no winning against the Sith. Escape was her only chance of survival, and he was glad she took it. But it still hurt.

"I've waited for you long enough, Quin," Kenobi whispered in his ear, and Vos felt himself shiver in a mix of fear, resistance, anticipation and pleasure. "Come now..." he drawled smoothly, the grasp on Vos' throat releasing, and the Jedi took in a deep breath that did nothing to relieve the pain in his chest, the haze in his mind, the blackness swiftly encroaching upon his vision. Those long fingers gently stroked his hair as they stroked his mind, and the last thing Quinlan Vos heard was the smooth, elegant voice say, "Burn with me..."

After that, there was only darkness.


	86. The Fall

He dreamt of darkness and pain and blood, of burning flames that consumed him and all around him. Occasionally, he'd wake up with a start, his heart beating fast and irregular, a cold sweat on his forehead, but as soon as he'd awaken, he'd open his eyes and see nothing but blazing golden eyes through the haze of his unfocused vision. The darkness that saturated his mind, thick and soothing as it gently lapped against the deepest parts of him would stir ever so slightly, the currents tugging to life with a delicate touch to his forehead, and he'd quickly be lulled back into willing unconsciousness.

He dreamed of Ahsoka, his beloved Padawan, her big, blue eyes wide, eager and trusting. She was a talent, a rare gift to the Jedi that loved a good fight, but was also compassionate and kind, possessing of an iron will that was difficult to break. She would be a Master one day, would sit on the Council to wisely show the Jedi the way, to keep them prepared for any future fights to come. When they returned to Coruscant and told the Masters about her brilliant fight with Pong Krell, the Jedi Master turned Sith Apprentice, he was certain that his young Padawan would be made a Knight, despite her young age, despite how short of a time she'd been a student.

That is, _if_ they made it back. His memories from that night were hazy at best, a confusing mess of brief flashes and intense emotion and pain, but he remembered Ahsoka, the startled look on her face, the fear in her eyes as she and General Grievous tumbled from a balcony high above the ground. He couldn't feel her through the Force, couldn't feel her through their connection. If the fall didn't kill her, than Grievous certainly did. Grievous wouldn't be harmed by a fall like that, but the young girl would be, even if she had somehow managed to use the Force to soften the fall. Ahsoka Tano was almost certainly dead. _Almost_. But it was enough to allow him to hope.

He dreamed of Asajj Ventress, the woman he had grown so close to, so intimate with. He was reluctant to call them lovers, but...no other term existed to explain what they were. She was his lover, or she had been for a very short time. Before she had jumped from the balcony and abandoned him. Or was forced to jump. He couldn't remember. What he did remember was their brutal training sessions that deepened his connection with the Dark Side, taking her hand and walking with her to the water's edge, wetting his feet in the turbulent waves, but never venturing deeper for fear of the undertow. He remembered the first time they kissed, intense and passionate, and he could feel himself breaking apart even now as the memory of it burned through his blood. It wasn't his first kiss, though it may as well have been for the beautiful rush of new emotions that she had awakened in him.

The time passed in a whirl of new emotions deeply felt, and he had understood why it was so easy to fall prey to the Dark Side, why it was so appealing, so seductive, just like the woman he was falling in love with. He hadn't understood why Obi-Wan had been so protective over the memory of Satine when he was younger, when he was a Jedi, but his time with Ventress had made him understand. It was love, deep and keenly felt, too pleasurable to let go of, too painful in its absence to forget, and it had made young Kenobi recoil from the prospect of being with another for fear it would happen again, for fear that he would forget what it was like with his Duchess. Quinlan felt it too. After Ventress, he didn't want to go back to the way he was. He wanted this, he wanted _her_ , and that she wasn't beside him now, that she may never be again, that she may have abandoned him, that she may be dead, Like Obi-Wan's Satine was dead...

Of all the horrors that his nightmares brought to him, that was the most painful.

He slowly began to stir, his muscles burning and aching with even the slightest movements, his thought hazy through the darkness that sat in his mind like a thick fog, and the smell of roasted meats, of freshly baked pastries, of fresh cut fruit wafted through the air, awakening and sharpening all of his senses. Slowly, he opened his bleary eyes, immediately shut them again when he was met by the red light of a setting sun, bright and blinding, and with a whimper, he curled up tightly, a sharp pain in his stomach that continued to rage through him, his mouth uncontrollably salivating in response. He was _hungry_ , and the fragrance of real, _rich_ food was making it difficult to bear. He slowly attempted to open his eyes again, whimpering against the pain of the light in his unadjusted eyes and the dull throb of his head as he felt the darkness slowly receded.

Slowly, _slowly_ he sat up, squinting as he looked around at the large, opulent room, the long line of mirrors on the far wall that made it look far bigger than it was, the long dining table loaded with the food whose smell was drifting through the air, a feast meant for twenty people, maybe more, but only one sat at the table. Quinlan growled with anger felt deep, but the Dark Side did not respond when called, did not fly to him at his command. It had abandoned him for something else, something darker. Perhaps it was Dooku, but Vos suspected not. With a groan, he tried to rise to his feet, a thousand questions racing through his mind as his hands pushed on his leg, but found he lacked the strength to rise. He reached out, grabbed hold of the nearby chair for support, and was immediately knocked back to the ground, clutching his head in pain as the Force slammed into him.

For a moment, he thought it had been Dooku, but than the visions came, the painful memory of the object in the room filling his mind with flashes of blue lightning, the echoed screams of agony, the charred, electric burned body of a woman, a _Jedi_ , that lay draped over the overturned chair. With a gasp, it was over, fading from his mind as his body went limp, random convulsions occasionally pulsing through him as the vision faded, but the memory of it stayed. Jedi had died here. More than one, he could _feel_ it. One of his questions had been answered. The opulence of the place, the presence of the Count, and now the memory of dead Jedi meant he could only be in one place. _Serenno_. It was here where it all began. It was here that Obi-Wan had fallen to the Dark Side and joined the Sith.

When his breathing regulated, Quinlan pushed himself to his knees again, carefully avoiding the offending chair, and with a grunt of effort, he rose to unsteady feet. The Jedi looked around, taking in the details of his surroundings, trying to avoid looking at the food upon the table in hopes to avoid aggravating his hunger pangs., but he found his eyes drawn instead to the Count, the man completely relaxed and at ease at the head of his table, a pile of food upon his plate and a fluted glass of wine held in his hand. When he was certain that Vos was looking at him, Dooku smirked, and raised his glass to the Jedi.

"Welcome," he said warmly, and drank from the glass, and Vos, much to his surprise, didn't feel himself burn with anger like he expected. He was just... _hungry_. His thousand, thousand questions raced through his mind, and he reached out and grabbed the first one he could get a grasp on.

"How long was I out?" Vos asked, his voice weak, hoarse and raspy, whether it be from pain or disuse, he wasn't sure, but he tried to clear his throat, winced when he felt how raw it was.

"Two days," Dooku said, reaching for the bottle of wine and pouring it into an empty glass. "We brought you here from Raxus after your... _misguided_ attempt on my life." He held out the glass to Quinlan, and Vos looked suspiciously at the glass, and Dooku rolled his eyes as if he could read his thoughts. "It isn't poisoned, Vos," the Count said, drinking from the glass he had poured for the Jedi and filling another glass with the deep, red liquid. Vos' resolve wavered, and he shuffled a few steps toward the Count before he stopped, mentally kicking himself for falling under the man's sway. "Come now, you are hungry and thirsty. All this is available to you, if only you ask."

Anger, hot and sudden, rushed through the Jedi, his hand tightening by his side, but it was weak, devoid of his previous strength, without the Force behind him. "I will _not_ beg for anything from the Sith," Vos spat, the disgust in his voice only amplified by the raw rasp of his throat. Again, the Count rolled his eyes.

"Suit yourself, but _please_ ," he stressed, holding the glass out. " _Drink_. I assure you, you are safe here. I know how dangerous it is to get between Lumis and what he believes to be his, and _you_ , Vos, are _his_."

He began to object, but found he couldn't, and Quinlan quickly shut his mouth. Everything inside him said Dooku was right, and the Force pulled at him, he felt the Dark Side roll over inside him in submission, not to him, but to Kenobi. Obi-Wan hadn't even drawn his lightsaber on Raxus, and the moment he arrived, the battle was lost. His power was fearsome, _terrifying_ , but above it all, his heart ached for his friend. They shared so much now, betrayals and pain, and from what he saw, from what he remembered, Obi-Wan needed someone beside him while he grieved. _Burn with me_ , the Sith had said, and Vos felt that he already was.

He eyed Dooku cautiously, a scowl on his lips wrinkling the tattoo across his face. _This_ Sith had killed his Master, was the cause of all the problems in the galaxy...and he had _asked_ him to take the wine. Grumbling in irritation, he strode to the Count, tripping on his feet as he did so, and he snatched the glass from the Count's hand, glaring at him as he did, and he emptied the glass. It was, by far, the best thing that ever passed his lips, and Vos didn't know if it was because he was parched, or because the Count could afford opulence that the Jedi couldn't even dream of, but it didn't matter. He reached over the table and snatched the bottle and walked away, dropped onto the stairs that led up to the Count's desk, and brought the bottle to his lips. He was trapped, and he knew it. He may as well enjoy himself.

The questions rushed through his mind, but he had no desire to ask any of them. His dark eyes roved over the room, over the Count, over _everything_ , the sights and smells filling him with contempt and revulsion, and he couldn't help himself. "It must have been _so easy_ ," he snarled, his voice low and dangerous, "for you to leave the Jedi Order when you had all these riches, all these servants, your palace, a pampered life to rush to!" Dooku simply nodded.

"It was, yes. Easier than it was for Lumis, certainly. Easier than it will be for you."

"Why are you doing this!" Vos finally cried, his voice hitching as it cracked, and he jumped to his feet, wavered on legs that could barely hold him up, but what nearly broke him was the look of pity on Dooku's patrician face.

"You were brought here," he started slowly, "because Lumis demanded it. He's put a lot of work into you, and now he will reap what he's sown." Fear gripped Quinlan, his eyes darting around the room, his mind racing with ways to escape as the alcohol in his empty stomach began to embolden him, but he stopped when a stern look from the Count held his gaze. "You can't escape, Vos. You know this. If you value your life, you won't try it. You won't _think_ it, Lumis can read minds the way normal men may read a neon sign. You can't hide anything from him, so I suggest you keep your mind blank, allow him to do his work, and _don't_ lie."

"If you're trying to frighten me, _Sith_ , it isn't working." A small, sad smile crossed Dooku's face, and Vos felt himself tremble, his anger fading into nothingness.

"I'm trying to _help_ you," the Count said softly. "Lumis will not hesitate to end your life if he doesn't get what he wants, and _no_ , your friendship with him means _nothing_. Not anymore, so don't count on it to save you." Dooku took a deep breath and ran his hand over his hair. "If I were you, Vos, I would eat, and I would drink. You're going to want to be as drunk as possible when he arrives, so you may as well sate yourself now. _I_ wouldn't want to be sober for what he has in store for you."

Quinlan remained where he stood, keeping his legs several times from moving himself to the table, the smell of fresh bread nearly breaking him. He tried to rationalize it away, give himself a reason for not heeding the Sith's suggestion, but he could find nothing. Slowly, he began to walk toward the table, clutching the empty bottle in his hand, and he stopped suddenly when the doors swung open with a loud bang and a rush of wind. Dooku rose when Obi-Wan strode in, his face cold and hard, and a man in black and red clone armor walking in step beside him. Quinlan could have sworn that his heart stopped beating.

Without thinking, Vos dropped the bottle and ran toward his friend, but Kenobi didn't seem to even notice that he was there. When Vos was nearly close enough to reach out and touch him, the Force slammed into him, hard and screaming in rage as it lifted him and carelessly tossed him aside, sending the Jedi Master skidding across the ground. He lay there for a long moment, his aching body protesting any movement at all, and when he opened his eyes, he saw blood streaked across the ground. His forearms stung, and when he extended his arms out before him and rotated his hands, he hissed in pain, his strong forearms streaked with bleeding burns from the friction on the stone. With a groan, he slowly began to crawl to his friend when he found he lacked the strength to stand.

"Lumis," Dooku said respectfully, a concerned timbre in his deep, resonant voice as he stood from his seat. "Come, eat with me."

"I'm not hungry," was the short, curt reply, and Dooku's shoulders sank. Vos could feel the man become almost frantic, and he looked on in disbelief at the Sith Lords. This was _not_ how he imagined the two of them would act together, not when they were supposedly competing over the place of the one apprentice to the Sith Master.

"You weren't hungry yesterday," Dooku insisted, his dark eyes watching as Lumis mounted the stairs to stand by the window, his hands clasped behind his back as he looked out over the forest, the setting sun making it appear as if the world was engulfed in flames. " _Or_ the day before that. You need to eat."

"I don't _need_ to do _anything_ ," Lumis hissed, not moving from his spot, and the clone at his side shifted uncomfortably.

"My Lord," he started softly. "Lord Tyranus is right, you need to eat." There was silence, nobody in the room daring to move, and Quinlan could feel the air rush from him as the Force tightened with raw anger. Slowly, he brought himself to his feet and began to shuffle closer to Kenobi.

"...I will," Lumis whispered, and the clone breathed a sigh of relief. " _After_ I'm done here."

"Obi-Wan!" The silence that followed was deafening, and both the clone and Dooku tensed, but Quinlan paid them no mind His focus was on Obi-Wan, and the man hadn't moved, hadn't stirred at all, as if he hadn't heard him calling. Vos stopped at the base of the steps, afraid to get too close, but it was close enough. He had so much he wanted to say, _needed_ to say, but grabbed for the most important. "Obi-Wan," he began again. "I'm so, so sorry about what happened to Satine, I-" He stopped, not because he wanted to, but because his throat suddenly, violently closed, and he was lifted, just enough so the tip of his boot could drag across the floor as he thrashed. Kenobi hadn't moved. Slowly, the Jedi's blood began to boil within him.

Vos choked, gagging against the grip until his eyes rolled back into his head, his face flushing so dark red it was nearly purple with the closing of the thick arteries and veins on the side of his neck. His vision was tunneling, and he felt himself losing consciousness. "Mention her name again," Lumis said softly, the words ringing loud and clear in Vos' ears, "and I will kill you." Quinlan dropped back to the ground, and he gasped loudly, violently coughed as the rush of air filled his quivering lungs.

"Obi-Wan," he tried again, voice rasping, but the man still wouldn't turn.

"You know Cody," Lumis said, unclasping his hands and gesturing to the clone at his side, and Vos sucked in a sharp breath as he looked the man over. He _knew_ what he looked like under the helmet, of course, but Kenobi was right about him knowing this clone. The 212th Attack Battalion was _his_ battalion that he had lost so long ago on Christophsis. Everyone assumed that the clones aboard had been a bad batch, that they had defected to become Kenobi's Lost Legion, but he had never been confronted with the re-purposed battalion before. Now, beside Kenobi, stood Cody, the commander that Vos had stood next to when he had been made General of the 212th, before Kenobi had stolen the _Dauntless_ and made her the _Liberator_. Before Cody and his men left the Republic to serve the Sith.

"Cody..." Vos repeated quietly. His head was swimming. He couldn't think straight. Everything was going wrong, everything _had_ been going wrong from the very start of this whole war. "How could you leave?" he asked mindlessly, and the clone scoffed and shifted to stand closer to the Sith Lord.

"He showed me freedom," he said, pointing his thumb over his shoulder at Kenobi, who remained where he was. "How could I return to slavery when I knew what freedom was like?"

"You find yourself in a similar situation now, Quinlan," Lumis said coldly, and Vos shivered. He was right, of course. He tasted the Dark Side, and he was finding it difficult to imagine himself returning to the austere life of the Jedi. To a life without attachment. A life without Ventress.

"You weren't supposed to be on Raxus, Kenobi," Vos said, putting a foot on the step and trying to decide if it was worth the climb, when the Sith Lord finally turned to look at him, his eyes blazing with hatred and fury that stopped the Jedi in his tracks.

"And why _shouldn't_ I be, Vos? Hmm?" He pointed two long fingers at Dooku, his entire arm shaking with tension. "I knew your intentions to assassinate Dooku, I _told you_ I would be there when you would execute your plan, and I told you I would fight against you when the time came! How is _any_ of this a surprise to you?"

"You _knew_?!" Vos asked, his jaw hanging slack.

"We _discussed it_ ," Lumis snarled. "And what better time and place to assassinate a public figure than when his gates were left wide open? I would applaud your choice if it wasn't so _obvious_."

"I thought," Vos began, his teeth clenched tightly together as his temper rose, "that you wouldn't be there because-"

"Because _what_?" he hissed, his fists clenching at his side, and Vos could feel the Dark Side drawn to the Sith Lord, pulsing and swirling around him like a living creature. "Because the point of it all was to remember Satine? Because the pain of it would keep me away?" The Sith laughed without mirth, cold and harsh, and Vos tried to back away, but found his feet firmly rooted to the spot. His body would not obey him. "Pain is the _point_ ," Lumis snarled, his eyes narrowing when he saw fear on his friend's face. "Pain makes me stronger, and I embrace it, and _that_ will be the death of you all."

"What has grief done to you?" Quinlan muttered, reaching toward the man with the Force and feeling only darkness, its pull so strong he almost couldn't look away.

"It's opened my eyes, my friend," Lumis said, his voice blank as he turned back toward the window, his chest rising as he took in a long, deep breath of air and held it. "This galaxy will burn, Quinlan. I have seen it. _All_ of it. This world, Coruscant, the Jedi. Every system, every sector, all of it in flames, and I am the one who will start it. I am _burning_ , Quin, and I'm taking everything with me."

Vos heard Dooku suck in a sharp breath behind him, and turned to see the Count's face drawn in worry, his presence in the Force tight with concern. He was... _afraid_. No, not quite that, but the Count could feel the insanity in the other Sith Lord, and he was struggling to find a way to douse the flames that consumed Kenobi and drove him to madness. Slowly, Obi-Wan began to laugh, softly at first, but quickly becoming manic as he turned from the window, his hands tightly gripping his ruffled hair.

"Oh, but what help you brought with you to Raxus!" the Sith chirped. "Honestly, I didn't think you'd be stupid enough to bring your beloved Padawan!" He grinned when the Jedi tensed, his hand flying to his belt for his lightsaber, and the Kiffar cursed when he found it wasn't on him. He _knew_ it wasn't on him. He had lost it on Raxus. "And Ventress! I didn't think _she'd_ be stupid enough to make another attempt on her former Master. Teaching you was one thing, but coming herself..." Lumis clicked his tongue as if he were reprimanding her, and Vos felt himself tense. "Foolish woman."

"What happened to them?" Vos asked in a quivering voice before he could stop himself, and the gold eyes before him seemed to recoil, widen in slight shock before amusement seemed to make them glow. For a moment, Vos thought his friend had returned, the insanity parting and giving way to who he was before, but the longer he looked, the more he felt _wrong_. There was cruelty there, and a lust for destruction that Vos hadn't wanted to believe, but now that he saw it, it wasn't possible to deny. "Please," he cried out in desperation, dropping to his knees before his friend as Lumis walked down the stairs. "Tell me what happened to them, where are they!"

He was silent for a moment, looking the Jedi over, and Vos could feel the Sith Lord in his mind, probing around as if he owned him, and Quinlan didn't have the strength to resist him. "You will be pleased to know that I have no idea. At the very least, they escaped Grievous and Krell." A wide grin spread across Quinlan's face, his dark eyes filled with hope for the survival of the people he loved, and the Sith's eyes flashed dangerously. Quinlan realized his mistake too late, tried to throw up whatever mental defenses he had, but Lumis already had what he needed.

"And _there it is_ ," he hissed, circling around the Jedi like a predator, a cruel smile on his lips as his gold eyes blazed with amusement. "You are in _love_. With _Ventress_!" He laughed, loud and harsh and bitter, and a moment later, Lumis' hand was balled into Vos' hair, and he yanked his head back, forcing the Jedi to look up into his face, the corner of his mouth twitching from pain as he tried to keep his wild emotions in check. "How _precious_. The incorrigible Quinlan Vos, _in love_." He laughed again, harsh and mocking. "I almost feel bad about having to take this away from you."

"You can't!" Vos snarled, struggling to rise, but Lumis tugged his hair back, keeping the Jedi on the ground. He grit his teeth, undaunted by the Sith Lord. "She _escaped_ you, you won't find her again!"

Lumis shrugged. "It doesn't matter that she escaped, she's dead anyway. All of you are already dead, you just don't know it..."

"Lumis..." Dooku softly warned, but the other Sith waved him off with a flick of his wrist that conveyed his irritation.

"And even so, I don't need her here to take her from you." A wicked smile crossed his face as he let the Jedi go, and Vos quickly jumped to his feet, only to fall to his knees once again when the Dark Side commanded him to kneel before his Sith Master. "Today's the day you die, Quin," he said softly, and the Jedi felt himself tremble, though he looked up at him defiantly. "You're just going to decide how it's going to be done. Either you die and rise again as Sith to stand beside me, or you die when I separate your head from your shoulders and send the pieces back to your Council. The choice is yours."

Vos couldn't breathe. For a moment, he closed his eyes and imagined what it would be like to stand beside Obi-Wan, as they had done so long ago, not to fight the Sith, but to make them stronger. Together, he and Obi-Wan could kill Dooku, kill the Sith Master. He would never be free from the reach of the Sith until they were all dead, and this seemed the best way to do it. But the notion only lasted for a moment, and then he thought of Ahsoka. He thought of Asajj, and his choice was made. He drew up as far as he was able while on his knees and looked defiantly at the imperious Lord Lumis.

"I will _never_ join the Sith!"

"But you _will_ ," he snarled, hatred and rage suddenly exploding out of the man, and Vos felt himself shake under the pressure of the Dark Side. They had always had problems sensing Obi-Wan, but now, he was blown open, raw and exposed, and Quinlan felt as though he were looking into the sun, the Force itself blazing with flames hotter than he could comprehend, and beyond that, he could sense nothing but the dark that came from emptiness. "Stop deluding yourself, Quin, you have already fallen!"

"No!" he shouted back. "Ventress-"

" _Has lied to you_!" Lumis finished. "Tell me, how did she motivate you against Dooku when _I_ could not? You had your motivation! _Stop the war_! That should have been all you needed, but it wasn't enough, so _what did she do_!"

" _Revenge_ " Vos snarled, feeling his anger rise, and in the presence of the infinite darkness, he felt the Dark Side return to him, a vicious, hunting beast that was suddenly awakened with the promise of blood. Dooku was so near, _so close_! " _He_ killed him!" the Jedi shouted, pointing an accusing finger at Dooku. "He killed my Master, he _murdered_ Master Tholme!"

"Oh..." Kenobi whispered, taking a step back and breathing deeply. "I see. That explains it, she made it _personal_ for you." He shrugged. "She's lying, of course."

The words made Vos feel as if he was being stabbed, and slowly, he felt doubt once again creep into his mind. His anger rising, he quickly brushed it to the side. "No," he gasped. "She wouldn't lie to me." Kenobi's eyes narrowed dangerously, and Vos watched as Obi-Wan slowly faded from the face he knew so well, leaving him with the cold and hard and uncaring Darth Lumis. He felt himself shiver. Qui-Gon had been right. Obi-Wan was dead. The glimpses he saw may have just been old habit, or perhaps he was simply just desperate to see Kenobi again. He wasn't sure which it was.

"I don't need to explain this to you, _Quinlan_ ," Lumis hissed, holding his hand out, and Cody slowly approached his Master. "I've been so gentle with you for so long, but that's done now. You need a firmer hand, and I should have given it to you _long_ ago."

"Nothing you say will make a difference!" Vos shouted, but his anger froze in his chest as his eyes widened, and that anger quickly became fear when Cody unclipped something from the back of his belt and laid the cylinder in the Sith's hand. It was a lightsaber, and one that Vos recognized all too well, and he knew that if the Sith were to ignite it, the blade would shine a brilliant green, just like his own. After all, he had modeled his saber after this one. Vos felt his hands shake. It had belonged to Master Tholme.

"I'm not going to say anything to you, Quin, I'm going to _show you_." Vos tried to rise, but with a snap of the Sith Lord's fingers, the Jedi saw white spots of light flash across his vision as Cody struck the back of his head with the butt of his blaster rifle, and a moment later, he felt both his wrists clutched in the clone's strong grasp. Lumis crouched down before him, his face pale and drawn and expressionless, the fire dead in those golden eyes, and Vos felt as though he were looking into the cold indifference of nothingness.

"You love her, Quin," Lumis whispered. "I can feel it within you. And I'm going to take that away from you. If I can't have it, if I have to suffer the agony of having loved so deeply and lost it all, so help me, you are going to share in my suffering, you're going to burn with me." Cody brought the Jedi's hand's out in front of him, and Vos tightly closed them into fists, but the Force pried them open, and Lumis laid the lightsaber on his palm, took Quinlan's hand in his own and forced him to hold his Master's saber in his grasp. Vos shut his eyes, grit his teeth, and shut the Force out.

"You can make me touch it," he growled, "but you _can't_ force me to read it!"

"I know," Lumis said softly, his voice almost gentle, his thumb lightly stroking the back of Vos' hand. "But you will, Quin. You need to know, and the truth is right here in your hand." The soft, gently fingers stroked the back of his hand, and Vos felt his grip tighten around the weapon. He could do it. He could power the weapon on, he could drive it through the heart of this Sith that walked in Obi-Wan's body, stole his memories, killed the Jedi that he used to be. His fingers gripped for the ignition, and he opened his eyes to look at the creature that tormented him and felt his breath catch in his throat. A small, sad smile tugged on the corner of his mouth, his gold eyes suddenly deep, pained and sympathetic, and Vos felt warmth rush through him from his hand clasped gingerly between the Sith's.

"She wouldn't..." Quinlan said so softly he may as well have said nothing at all, but Kenobi heard him. "I know her. I know her like you don't."

"It's true that you know her very differently than I do," Lumis whispered, and the softness of his hands, the warmth in his voice found Quinlan sliding his fingers off the ignition. He couldn't kill him. "I've never been inside her the way you have." The Sith's features hardened with remembered pain, old and new all at once, like a wound inflicted long ago that never healed right. "But I know Ventress, and I know how treacherous she is. She can _never_ escape the Dark Side, as she seems to think. After all, her lies have delivered you right to me."

His hand began to shake around his Master's lightsaber as doubt and fear wormed its way into his mind like a snake. "She _wouldn't_ ," Vos growled, and Lumis responded by tightening his grasp on the Jedi's hand.

"Your faith is touching," he said coldly. "If you trust her so much, than you have nothing to fear from this weapon." He leaned in closer, bringing his face mere inches from the Jedi's, and try as he might, Quinlan didn't have the resolve to lean back. " _Read it, Quin_."

Vos felt the Force flicker through him, saw the brief flash of battle droids on what looked like the floor of a coral reef, dry and barren without the waters of the ocean above it. Vos recognized the greens and purples of the coral forest as the moon of Rugosa, the place where Jedi Master Tholme had died. He gasped, his hand trembling as he pushed the Force away, banished the vision from his mind, and he shut his eyes to keep from looking at the Sith Lord, afraid that simply looking upon him would allow the man inside his mind, let him take over his body, manipulate his thoughts, _force_ him to read the object in his hands.

But doubt had already crept in. _Why_ was he so afraid of this? He trusted Ventress, knew she wouldn't lie to him, but with the saber in his grasp, he felt the Force quake in warning, trying in frantic desperation to turn him from the weapon, to shield him from what he may learn. But _why_. Was it trying to protect him from the pain of his Master's final moments? Or was it trying to keep him from something worse? His hand tightened. He needed to know. Doubt ate at his mind, worse than anything he had felt before. He needed to clear it, needed to be reassured of his faith in Ventress, needed to know that she wasn't just using him as a tool for revenge. After all, she had used the Nightsisters. She had even created the monster Savage Opress to complete her revenge. What was it that stopped her from using a Jedi when she found one that suited her needs?

Quinlan shook his head violently, trying to clear the thought, but it wouldn't leave. After all they had been through, all they had shared, how intimate they had become, it was impossible for Vos to imagine that this was true. She trusted him as he trusted her, maybe even loved her the way he did. This Sith's words were poison, as the Jedi always knew they were, and he was trying to lead him astray, like he _always_ had been. It was no secret that Kenobi was working to secure Vos' fall to the Dark Side, but he wouldn't _ever_ join the Sith as his fallen friend had done. He may never be a Jedi again, but he was _not_ Sith. All Obi-Wan was doing was planting doubt in his mind where none was before. He could overcome this. He _would_ overcome this. His faith in Ventress was absolute. He had nothing to fear from this lightsaber.

He opened his eyes and looked defiantly into the Sith's golden gaze, a smirk on his lips and the touch of the Force in his fingertips, and the room fell away as he looked within Tholme's lightsaber.

There were thousands of battle droids, the air filled with blaster fire as they clashed with the Republic's clone army, but all Quinlan could see was the green blade of a lightsaber as it effortlessly cut a path through the droid army. It was wielded by an aging Jedi, his black hair streaked with gray, his gaze focused and intense, and Vos felt a stab of pain lance through him. He wasn't prepared for how painful it would be to look upon his Master, the image of him so vibrant and alive sending a shiver through him that threatened to tear bitter tears from his eyes, but he held back, refusing to even breathe as he braced himself for what he knew was coming. Out of the corner of his vision, he saw a red lightsaber flash into view, and for a moment, he felt relief wash through him, but he quickly ran cold with dread when he saw the second blade, extending angry and red from curved hilts that he knew all too well.

_Asajj Ventress_.

The light reflected off her bald head, her skin pale as untouched snow, her lithe body clad in tight, black leather that allowed for her easy, athletic movements as she expertly wielded the lightsabers in her hand, cutting through clones and droids alike to reach the Jedi Master. Vos tried to tear himself away, tried to avert his gaze, but he couldn't. He needed to know, and his raw emotional state kept him transfixed as the Jedi Master and the Sith assassin met in furious, heated battle, the two combatants spinning and moving with such speed that the lightsabers in their hands left the sky bleeding red and green with trails of light. It happened so fast, so fast that Vos couldn't see exactly what had happened, but Ventress had forced the Jedi to begin to retreat as she snatched the upper hand. Her blade circling his, she flicked her wrist effortlessly, a practiced skill of Dooku's preferred style, and Tholme's blade went flying from his hand, and Ventress pointed her blades at the Master, a look of sinister triumph upon her face.

He couldn't look away from her face, the face that he had thought so beautiful, now twisted and contorted with cruelty and hatred, the light blue eyes he got lost in so often pale and gray, the lips he had kissed so deeply the past few months curled in a vicious sneer. Even in her hatred, she was a thing of beauty, but Quinlan felt love turn to revulsion when he thought of that body, naked and wanting beneath him as he slid deep within her only days before, being used as a brutal weapon against the Master that he had treasured. Vos watched helpless as Tholme put his hands in the air and sunk to his knees in surrender, and without a pause, Ventress thrust one blade into his heart, laughing in her deep rasp as she slowly drew the other blade across his side, opening him up and spilling his innards on the ground before her.

Vos felt his body convulse with nausea, a vile, burning rising up in his chest as he looked at the vision before him as it began to fade, leaving him in the room with the two Sith Lords, the clone that was once his, his firm grasp on Vos' wrists released and now standing behind his Master. The lightsaber clutched tightly in Vos' hand, his eyes shot to Obi-Wan, hoping, _begging_ that somehow, the Sith had influenced him, altered the visions he received. But while Vos was lost in the Force, Lumis had removed himself, not just from the gentle grasp of his hands on the Jedi's, but from his mind as well. Vos searched himself and found his mental defenses high and strong in his panic, a reflexive move that ensured that Kenobi stayed out, and he felt none of his old friend's presence within him. The darkness that swirled within him now, violent and angry, was of his own making. Kenobi could not alter the vision. Things happened _exactly_ as the Force had shown him. Ventress had killed his Master, _murdered_ him after he had surrendered, lied to him to motivate him against Dooku in order to weaponize the Jedi against her former Master. He had been _used_ , tricked into loving a snake, and Vos couldn't help but wonder what else the woman had lied to him about, a furious burning erupting behind his eyes as he looked desperately to the Sith Lord that showed him the truth.

Lumis watched impassively as Quinlan's pupils narrowed to pinpoints in his wrath, his warm, brown eyes beginning to lighten, slowly spreading outwards from the center until brown gave way to pale, glowing yellow rimmed with red. It was... _perfection_. The pain within his friend so consuming, so divine that he could feel it tear at the Force. Lumis couldn't help but moan at the pleasure of it, his own rush of the Dark Side growling to sinister life with the deepness of shared pain and the culmination of years of work. It was betrayal, raw and cruel, and it was loss of love, bitter and consuming, all rolled up into a singular moment. Lumis couldn't have planned this any better himself, his chest rising and falling rapidly as the agonizing grasp of the Dark Side wrapped itself around Quinlan Vos, sank its claws deep within him, and refused to let go. All Lumis could feel was burning pleasure rip through him as he watched his friend finally fall, tightly embracing the Dark Side as he quickly begin to burn.

"I couldn't spare you the pain of this," Lumis whispered, a pleased smile on his lips as the Kiffar's yellow eyes locked with his. "Pain feeds your hate, and hate will make you powerful. The Dark Side is strong in you, Quin, and it has been for a _very_ long time. It's time you nurture that."

"She's a liar..." Vos growled, his voice thick with emotion as his shoulders began to shake with sobs, the Dark Side pooling around him and whipping into a violent frenzy that had Lumis shivering in delight. "And a _murderer_."

"I know." Lumis rose to his feet and looked down at the pitiful man, his body wracked with sobs and convulsing in pain, every inch of his being screaming his surrender to darkness. He extended his hand out to his friend. "All that's left for you is revenge. Come with me, and I shall see that you have it, all of it and more." The Kiffar looked up at him, his expressive eyes wide and pained and trusting, and Lumis felt a faint stirring in his chest, not of sympathy, but of old, remembered kinship. "We were brothers once, Quin. Let us become so again. We'll seek your revenge together. We'll seek mine _together_. You and me, just as we were, just as we have always been."

Quinlan looked up at those golden eyes, the face he knew so well, the hand that gently reached out to him, and he shivered. Obi-Wan Kenobi had always been his friend, _always_ , and that was never more true than now. It seemed cruel to reveal this awful truth, to violently rip his love away from him, but Vos recognized it as a kindness. Kenobi was freeing him from the woman's vile grasp, correcting his flawed beliefs, focusing his rage where it truly belonged. Once, he had asked Kenobi to teach him the ways of the Dark Side, and the Sith had refused him, insisted that he wouldn't stand against his Sith brothers, but things were different now. Now, the focus of his wrath wasn't on the Sith, but on _Ventress_. She had lied to him, used him, betrayed his trust, made him love her when she knew full well that she had killed the Master he adored. Vos wondered how hard she had laughed at the foolish Jedi when he had left her bed, when he looked at her with adoration and the beginnings of love, and it made him _hate her_.

And there to save him was Obi-Wan Kenobi, Lord of the Sith, enemy of the Jedi, and his one true friend. If his fellow Jedi knew what he had been doing, they would try to take her from him as well, but not because they cared, because they _forbid_ it. Obi-Wan cared about him, showed him the horrible truth, and now stood ready to help him. Vos trembled as sympathy quickly turned to empathy for his fallen Jedi brother. Obi-Wan had suffered betrayal after betrayal at the hands of the Jedi, and a flash of pain and anger rushed through the Kiffar, enraged that the Order would do this to his friend. He had always been bitter about Kenobi's treatment before, but _now_ , he understood. Now he felt the bitter sting of betrayal in his own hardening heart, and he was filled with loathing for the Jedi that caused it. And then there was Satine...

The pain of that loss was clear in Kenobi's eyes, deep and pervasive, driving him to the brink of insanity with a lust for the destruction of _everything_ , and Vos understood. The Jedi knew he'd be dangerous, knew he had changed, and while Vos knew his friend was drowning in grief for the loss of his lover and his unborn son, the Jedi plotted to destroy him, hoping to catch him in a weakened state before he could recover and come back stronger than before. It was cruel and ruthless, devoid of the sympathy that the Jedi prided themself on, and it made Vos _burn_. Obi-Wan stood beside him, and he always had, and Vos wouldn't abandon him now.

Quinlan reached out and grabbed Kenobi's hand, kissed his long fingers, and laid his forehead on the smooth skin that covered his knuckles. "Teach me," Vos whispered, looking up into the glowing gold eyes above him. "Teach me, and we can have our revenge, my Master."

Lumis hooked his finger's under Vos' chin and drew the kneeling man up to stand beside him, soothing the Dark Side that raged around the Kiffar like a storm, easing the turbulent waves down to the smooth, inky calm of darkness. Vos nearly slumped against him as the fury was drained from him, leaving him feeling warm and sated, the dull pulse of pleasure beating rhythmically in his mind. There was anger, yes, and hatred, fearsome and consuming, but it was still and calm, laying in wait as it was drowned by the bliss of submission to Kenobi, the Sith Lord, his friend, _his Master_.

"Cody," Lumis whispered, not taking his eyes from the fallen Quinlan. "Get the _Umbra_ ready. It's time to bring my apprentice home." A sly smirk passed over Lumis' face when Quinlan shivered, moaning softly as pleasure rushed through him, frantically clinging to the Sith Lord's sleeve like it was a lifeline. "And you and I have plans to make. There are worlds to burn."


	87. Reeling

Ord Mantell was burning. It wasn't an understatement or an exaggeration, as Anakin explained to the Council as calmly as he could, and in this case, calm was downright frantic. Yes, he explained, he _knew_ the planet's cloud cover looked pink, but _no_ , the clouds weren't pink. From space, Ord Mantell looked _volcanic_ , swirling clouds of black and red that indicated the distress on the surface. And when Anakin flew his starship below the cloud cover, he found _fire_. Nothing but. Not a forest fire stoked by the elevated global temperature, not a city that was burning. _All_ of it was. The entire planet was engulfed in a torrent of flames. The cities, the jungles, the vast plains and expansive terrain, the mountains on which there was _nothing_ to burn... _all_ of it was on fire. Even the oceans, teaming with life, were _boiling_. Anakin had looked desperately for a place to land, a way to get down and help people, if there were people to help, but there was nothing but an inferno, and if there were those that were miraculously still alive, there was no way to save them.

And it wasn't just Ord Mantell. The entire Bright Jewel System was burning. Six planets and ninety seven very small moons made up the system, and everything that _could_ burn was. True, there was nothiing in the system besides Ord Mantell, but small outposts existed on one of the other planets and at least one of the tiny moon s. They had only come here because Tarkin had a hunch. After several attacks on Separatist strongholds and droid foundries had failed to draw out Kenobi, the Admiral had believed that the Sith's focus had shifted from the Jedi, the source of his anger, to the criminal conglomerate of the Shadow Collective, the source of his grief. The Black Sun, the largest and most dangerous of the criminal syndicated that comprised the Shadow Collective, would be the first and most likely target, if Kenobi was smart, and they knew he was. Given Tarkin's suspicions about Mustafar, they headed for the Black Sun's other headquarters on Ord Mantell, and they had found _fire_.

Anakin didn't understand how an entire system could burn without _someone_ being made aware of it, but Tarkin had explained that these were criminals, the lawless, the refuse of the galaxy, and with the Jedi spread thin and occupied with the war, there was nobody left to care about atrocities committed against those that many believed the galaxy could do without. Nobody would mourn the Black Sun, and when the galaxy at large discovered that they had been eradicated, if they _had_ , in fact, been eradicated, than the ones responsible would be hailed as heroes. What Tarkin didn't understand was how an army of the size necessary to put an entire system to the torch could have moved across space with nobody noticing. Anakin didn't have an answer for that, but he had a guess. They were looking for a Separatist fleet, for the notorious ships _Negotiator_ and _Liberator_ , for Kenobi's stealth personal ship, the _Umbra_ , but Anakin suspected that they weren't going to find the Separatists responsible for this, even with Kenobi involved. After all, they had a war to fight.

They may be looking for Mandalorians.

And to further complicate the matter, Jedi fighting out around Toydaria had reported seeing the _Liberator_ flying toward Hutt Space. The entire thing was very frustrating. What had started as an attempt to flush Kenobi out had ended up as a wild chase to catch the man before he could cause anymore damage. Before, at least, they knew they were walking into a trap, but now, it felt like they were being led into one, though neither Anakin nor Tarkin could guess what the trap was, or where it would be sprung. And since the Republic could go nowhere near the Mandalore sector to investigate their suspicions about them being in league with Kenobi, Anakin turned to the one place where he knew he could get all the information he needed.

"They are _absolutely_ involved," Padmé said firmly, her hands on her hips and her beautiful face intense, and Anakin sighed wistfully from the comfort of his bed, his legs kicking the headboard as he looked at the hologram of the woman as she paced. He had barely been gone a week, and he was already missing her terribly.

"How can you be sure?" he asked, and she shot him a glare for questioning her, but she could barely contain a smile.

"A lot has changed since you were gone. Peace in Mandalore died with Satine."

"Are they at war with each other?" Anakin asked, and the Senator's eyes narrowed.

"Worse. They're at war with _anyone_ that gets in their way. They're united, and not just on Mandalore, they've united the entire _sector_ under one rule."

"How bad is that?" Anakin asked, groaning s he swung his feet over the side of the bed and sat up, pulling his boots off and yawning. He hadn't been resting well since he left Coruscant to hunt the Sith, and chasing the ghost that was Kenobi was beginning to wear on him. "Mandalore under Satine was _much_ larger than just the Mandalore sector. She ruled that as well."

" _Yes_ , but right after her death, it looked like everything she built would fall apart, including the united sector." Padmé crossed her arms over her chest, her little foot tapping against the floor. "But they have a new Mand'alor now, and she united them all under a call for blood."

Anakin sat up straight, the shoulders in his back tight with tension. The creation of a Mandalorian Empire under the peaceful but ambitious Satine had made him read up on his history, and part of the reason that the fierce Mandalorians didn't own the galaxy was because they were too busy fighting with each other. They were lucky that Satine was peaceful, but if their new leader was a militant, than the galaxy could be in for some trouble.

" _Whose_ blood?" Anakin asked.

"Anyone that gets in the way of their revenge," Padmé answered quickly. "The new Mand'alor was here in the Senate just a few days ago to state her intentions." The young woman scoffed, her finger twirling around one of the ringlets in her hair, as she did so often when she was nervous. "Mand'alor Bo-Katan Kryze."

"Kryze?" Anakin asked. "As in, _Satine_ Kryze?" Padmé nodded somberly.

"Her younger sister, and she is out for the blood of everyone that had anything to do with the destruction of Mandalore." The Senator sighed and pressed her fingers to her temple. "Which means every criminal syndicate in the galaxy. Before, we at least had some stability with Satine, but _now_ , we have two wars occurring simultaneously. It's a mess."

"And the Republic can't do anything about it," Anakin muttered. "You're right, that is bad."

"So if you have a planet _burning_ ," Padmé said slowly, "and that planet just _happens_ to be part of a criminal empire, than you had better believe it was the Mandalorians."

"How did they raise an army big enough to burn an entire system?" Anakin mused, and Padmé inhaled sharply.

"Bo-Katan militarized Mandalore," she said softly, slowly, as if reluctant to mention it. "Everyone that is able to fight joined her Death Watch. All the other systems in the sector followed suit when she got the support of the Shadow King."

"... _Shadow King_?" the Jedi asked, incredulous, his intelligent eyes roaming over the petite woman as she looked at the ground, her bottom lip held between her teeth, and realization dawned on him. " _Obi-Wan_. He's still supporting them." The Jedi cursed under his breath. "This is _exactly_ what happened during the Mandalorian Wars! A militarized Mandalore with a _Sith benefactor_!" He laughed. "We're _all_ going to die! We can't attack the Mandalorians, we'd have a two front war on our hands!"

"And the Senate basically gave Bo-Katan their support. The Jedi have been too busy with the war to keep crime in check, so the cartels have greatly expanded. They see this as a galactic police force." Padmé smiled softly when Anakin began cursing loudly and angrily pacing.

"So what you're telling me," he said forcefully, "is the Mandalorians declared open war, and they were met with _applause_?!"

She shrugged. "The way they see it, the Mandalorians are responding to a declaration on them. They're the innocent party in this, Anakin. Even if what they're doing now is awful, most in the Senate believe they're justified. Nobody cares about the galaxy's criminals."

Skywalker groaned and sat back on the bed, his face in his hands as he thought. "Kenobi has built himself a shield," he said softly. "We can't attack him if he's hiding behind the Mandalorians. Is _that_ his trap? Is he trying to provoke us into attacking him? It would turn the Republic against the Jedi, that _must_ be his goal..."

Padmé shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, averting her eyes from her lover. "Are you going to kill him?" she asked softly, and Anakin looked up at her in confusion, as if he had heard her, but didn't understand. She drew up taller, looked him in the eye. "Are you going to kill Obi-Wan?" she asked again, stronger this time.

And there it was. Anakin sucked in a sharp breath, felt the hot pull of jealousy seep into his blood. He tried to shake it away. He had no cause to be jealous of Obi-Wan Kenobi. Anakin had _everything_ he didn't, and as cruel as it was to think so, he was glad for it. It was just proof that the Force favored the good over the evil, favored the Jedi over the Sith, favored Anakin over Obi-Wan. He had some doubts about it before with how well Kenobi was doing against them, but these past few months had been especially difficult for his counterpart. With the rise of Maul and the fall of Satine, it seemed as though the Force itself was actively working to bring Kenobi down.

"He's a _very_ real threat, Padmé," Anakin said gently, as if he were soothing her. "He was bad enough before when he was just toying with us and breaking the Jedi apart, but he just burned a _planet_ , and nobody was fast enough to stop it. Nobody even knew about it. Nobody even _cared_. He's a mass murderer, and he needs to be put down before he does it again."

"Can't you just _capture_ him?" she pleaded, her hands clasped together, and she turned her big, expressive brown eyes upon him, and Anakin _melted_. She turned him from all reason, he knew, but he couldn't help it.

"Killing him is going to be hard enough," he muttered. "Capturing him is almost an impossibility."

" _Almost_ ," she stressed, and Anakin sighed heavily. It just _wasn't_ possible, and he began to feel his irritation rise, not with Padmé, but with Kenobi. It was his fault she was still thinking about him, _his_ fault that she even thought of him as anything more than what he was. He was a past crush, and nothing more. Nothing had ever happened between them, nothing ever would. At least, he didn't _think_ they were ever anything more. He bit down on his lip as images of Padmé and Kenobi flashed through his mind, their coupling rough and intense and passionate in the way it could only be with a Sith Lord. Even if they _had_ been together, Kenobi certainly never loved her. Not like Anakin. It was fine. Everything was _fine_.

It would have been fine now as well, if Obi-Wan hadn't done... _something_ to her on Mandalore way back at the start of the war, back when he was still pretending to be peaceful. He had somehow managed to drag up all her old feelings for him and intensify them, whipping her into a frenzy of lust and desire so deep that she had dragged Anakin down with her. Anakin was certain that Padmé had been cleared of the Sith's influence. After all, it had been over a year since he last saw her, even longer since she had claimed to harbor an attraction to him. But _maybe_...

"He isn't the man you remember, Padmé," Anakin warned, and the Senator's eyes widened for a moment in disbelief, and then quickly narrowed in anger.

"I'm not saying that he is, Anakin," she snapped. "I'm saying that he's a person that just lost his lover and his child." She looked away from the Jedi, but Skywalker could see faint color staining her cheeks. "Something awful has happened to him, and he deserves our sympathy."

"Even if he's a monster?" Anakin asked, leaning forward and laying his chin on his hand "Even if he's burning planets?"

" _Especially_ then," she said firmly, he arms crossed, and she left no room for argument. "We make monsters by treating them like monsters."

"Uh, _no_." Anakin crossed his arms. He could be stubborn too. "Kenobi was a monster long before this happened to him. Long before anything _really_ bad happened to him."

"And maybe he wouldn't be so bad if we changed how we handled him!" She drummed her long fingers against her forearm, and she sighed when she saw how tense her lover had become. "Anakin, I'm sorry. You _are_ right, he needs to be dealt with. I'm just saying that he's at his lowest point, and if he's treated harshly or cruelly now, it will only make him worse. I think," she said, wringing her hands in front of her, "that a little kindness can go a very, _very_ long way. He wasn't always evil, you know, and the Jedi have been nothing but hostile to him."

"He's _trying to kill us_."

"But look what Qui-Gon's doing!" she cried, gesturing off to her side as if the Jedi Master was standing beside her. Which he was not. Like Anakin, Qui-Gon Jinn left the Temple in search of Obi-Wan, though their missions were very, _very_ different. "Qui-Gon had been treating him with patience and kindness!"

"And it's gotten him _nowhere_. Obi-Wan is still a monster, he's still a murderer, and he _still_ wants to kill the Jedi and destroy the Republic."

"But he hasn't killed Qui-Gon yet, and he's had _many_ opportunities to." Anakin looked at the woman for a long moment and sighed. She wasn't _right_ , exactly, but he understood her point. It was a matter that Qui-Gon had often spoken to him about as well, and he _did_ try to be sympathetic toward Kenobi, but in light of the burning of Ord Mantell and the Sith's obvious involvement, it was difficult to see him as anything but a killer. The truth was, he _did_ feel sympathy for Kenobi, did understand the pain he must have been enduring, but burning planets as an expression of grief wasn't exactly forgivable. What bothered him most, however, was Padmé's eagerness to excuse his behavior when she would draw a hard line if it were anyone else.

"Do you still love him?" Anakin blurted out, biting his tongue so hard it nearly bled after he had said it. He felt foolish, _embarrassed_ for asking such a question, and Padmé's immediate anger at the question was quelled instantly when she saw how insecure her Jedi was.

"Anakin..." she said softly, reaching out as if she could touch him through the hologram, and Anakin smiled softly when her glowing, holographic hand lit his cheek with light. "I love _you_. You must know that. It's been years since I've even seen Obi-Wan, I just..." She hissed in her frustration and looked away, her finger twirling in her hair. "I'm worried about _you_. It's obvious how dangerous he's become, and I don't want to lose you."

"You won't," he said softly, and he could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He knew she was telling him the truth, and in an instant, all doubt left him, and before he could stop himself, he said, in a breathless gasp, "Marry me." She recoiled, her brown eyes wide with surprise, but Anakin held her gaze, even as he felt his palms begin to sweat.

"W-what?"

There was no turning back now. Skywalker took a deep breath. "We've been together for so long, Padmé, and you're what I want. I need to know, I _have_ to know that you'll always be beside me. _Please_."

"...but the _Jedi_ -"

"We've been breaking that part of the Code for a long, long time. I _don't_ think marriage really changes things on that front." Padmé looked him over for a long while, her head swimming and her fingers tingling. It was true that this wasn't allowed of him, but so many already knew that Anakin had something of a... _dalliance_ with the Naboo Senator, and Qui-Gon knew _everything_ , and the respected Jedi Master seemed alright with it, so long as Anakin's duty wasn't forgotten, and the war had shown that it _never_ was far from his mind.

Finally, she nodded. "I'd like that," she said softly, the finger in her hair twirling faster with nerves and excitement, and Anakin grinned broadly, desperately wishing that the woman were actually with him. He stood and reached out to touch the hologram instead, running the gloved finger of his cybernetic hand down her cheek, his other hand instinctively falling to the curve of her waist. He could be a Jedi, would one day be a Jedi Master, would lead as a member of the Council. He could have a wife, a child, _ten_ children and still keep true to his duty. He would find a way.

The door hissed open, but Anakin didn't hear it, wasn't notified that anyone had entered until he heard a choked gag from behind him. "Shall I vomit now," Tarkin asked, "or should we conclude our business first?" Anakin quickly backed away from the holographic image of Padmé, his face flushed with irritation and embarrassment at what amounted to being caught with a digital woman. When flustered, Anakin resorted to taunting.

" _You're_ just jealous, Tarkin! Don't be upset with me just because _you_ can't get a woman!"

The Admiral rolled his eyes. "Of all the... _of course_ I can get a woman if I wished it, General." He pointed an accusing finger at the Jedi. "But _not_ while I'm on duty." He straightened up, adjusting his collar. "That's what _shore leave_ is for."

Anakin scoffed. "Right, when was the last time _you_ went on shore leave?"

"Not since the war began," the Admiral growled, striding into the room and hooking his datapad into the interface, and he bowed to Padmé as the data uploaded. "Senator. Nice to see you."

"And you as well, Admiral Tarkin," she said sweetly, and a moment later, the map of the galaxy was displayed next to her.

"I believe," Tarkin said, swiping his hand over the datapad, and the map dimmed, save for a handful of bright, glowing points, "that the attack on Ord Mantell was a tactical error on Kenobi's part. We can find him."

"Senator Amidala seems to believe that he's fighting with an army of Mandalorians," Skywalker said quickly, and Tarkin's eyes shot to the image, appraised her carefully, and than swiftly returned his attention to the datapad.

"Even better." A few more spots appeared on the map, and others disappeared, and at the end, they were left with Hutt Space highlighted, along with five bright points. "That narrows our search significantly. If he is, in fact, allied with the Mandalorians, we can assume he is waging war with the Shadow Collective, given what has happened on Mandalore, and the status of the Bright Jewel System confirms to me that this is _exactly_ what he is doing. I don't know if he's broken from the Separatists, but at the very least, he's been diverted."

"And this is where we're likely to find him?" Anakin asked, walking in a circle around the map and hissing in frustration when he looked at the expansive region of Hutt Space. "This is a major war effort if he's going to attack the Hutts. There must be a hundred systems in Hutt Space."

"Eighty nine," Tarkin drawled, and Anakin snorted in annoyance. "But the systems themselves may be secondary. His war is with the Shadow Collective, and he will be striking them at their headquarters." He drew his finger across the bright point that signified Ord Mantell, and it dimmed. "The Black Sun may be completely eradicated. I can't guess what his next stop will be, but most likely, he will go after the Pykes on Oba Diah." He tapped the point, and it grew brighter, and he drew his finger across the map and stopped at another point. "It's also possible he will attack Kessel, seeing as how most crime syndicates keep a presence in the spice mines there."

"He's saving the Hutts for last, huh?" Anakin asked quietly, his hand rubbing his chin as he looked at the map. "That's where the bulk of what he means to do will take place. I suppose it makes sense to deprive them of their allies first."

"It does," Tarkin said, clasping his hands behind his back. "We can determine the order in which he will attack the Hutts as well, based on the locations of their strongholds." He pointed to the glowing spots in turn as he named them. "Tatooine, Makeb, Nar Shaddaa, Nal Hutta. In that order."

"Tatooine..." Anakin whispered, feeling a knot grow in his stomach that didn't stop until he thought he was going to be sick. His home world. His _brother_ was there. "We need to stop him," Anakin said swiftly. " _Now_ , before he gets to Tatooine. I have family there, and if he does there what he's done on Ord Mantell..."

"Anakin," Padmé said softly. "Tatooine is a desert, you can't _burn_ sand."

"Trust me, he'll find a way to."

"General," Tarkin ventured carefully, his voice low as it always got when he was about to present Anakin with an idea that he knew would offend his Jedi sensibilities. "Kenobi is distracted from the war effort and is diverting resources away from the Separatist war machine. This may be the opportunity we have been waiting for, but since he may attack _any_ of these places in any order..." The Admiral shrugged nonchalantly. "I say we let him."

"... _what_?!" Anakin and Padmé both cried in unison, and Tarkin put his hands up to placate them.

"He is targeting _criminals_. Cartels and crime syndicates that have gotten out of control in the duration of this war. If he wants to destroy them..." He shrugged. "I say we let him. They must be swept up and dealt with when the war is over anyway, and the Republic will not be so eager to launch another campaign, and the Jedi numbers have dwindled considerably. Mandalore is strong _now_ , and Kenobi is motivating them. Let him clean up the garbage."

"There are _innocent people_ on those planets, Tarkin!" Anakin shouted, pointing at the map. They have had debates and discussions like this often. It was no secret that Tarkin believed the Jedi Code prevented them from winning the war, and many times, Anakin agreed. He drew the line at engulfing entire planets, _entire systems_ , in flames, though.

"Acceptable losses," he said coldly. "And no self-respecting citizen lives on planets owned by crime lords."

"My _brother_ is on Tatooine!" Tarkin sniffled and drew up to his full height.

"You wish to defend your home world. I understand. If you like, we can set our trap for Kenobi over Tatooine. We don't know for certain where he is going first regardless. Quite frankly, the more planets he destroys, the higher our chances become at finding him at the site of his _next_ attack."

"We are not letting planets burn because of _statistics_!" Anakin shouted, his tone making it clear that the word was final.

"...very well." The Admiral sighed. "Your plan of attack, then?"

Anakin looked at the map carefully, stroking his chin as he tried to calm his racing heart, but his eyes kept drifting to Tatooine. "What do you suppose our odds of capturing him are, Tarkin?" the Jedi asked, and the Admiral tapped his high cheekbone with a long, thin finger.

"Low," he said tersely. " _Very_ low. But the intent of a trap is to do _exactly_ that. I want to trap him, not kill him, if possible. He's too valuable as a source of information, and given what has been said about his current status, I doubt he will be difficult to break. I understand he is broken already."

Anakin looked at Padmé out of the corner of his eye and watched her bow her head, her lips drawn in a thin line as she struggled with hearing such plain, frank cruelty spoken about a man she once loved, once respected. "Oba Diah," Anakin said softly. "Kessel. Makeb. Tatooine. Those are the targets outside of Hutt Space. I'll contact the Council, and we'll get our best to guard each one, keep a lookout over the area. Every one of those is in close enough range to get to before he can burn it all down. We'll station ourselves over Tatooine. It's close enough to our base on Geonosis to give us the excuse to be there."

Tarkin saluted, and said not a word as he left the room. Anakin looked over the map, his heart heavy, and he couldn't help but feel like Kenobi had planned all of this, that burning a system was simply his way of drawing attention away from his true goal. He looked at Padmé, but said nothing, a worried smile on both their lips as they shared in each other's apprehension.

* * *

It took three days before they could leave Raxus. Two days of hiding in sewers and ditches, of surviving in a hostile land where they were being actively hunted by droids that knew their bioscans, but Ahsoka Tano and Asajj Ventress were trained in survival, had become adapt at it, experts, _masters_ in the field. Both women were seriously injured, Ahsoka more than Ventress, and while she was no doctor, the Nightsister was certain that the labored wheezing, the gasps of pain with every step, was a fair indication that young Tano had several broken ribs. Even still, they hid close to the palace, keeping a careful watch for any opportunity they could get to rush inside and rescue Vos, but the opportunity never came. Before dawn on their first day of hiding, after being cast down from the heights of the uppermost balcony, Ventress heard the familiar purr of sophisticated engines, and they looked up in time to see the _Umbra_ flying toward the lightening horizon. Kenobi was gone, and with him, Quinlan. There was no doubt about that.

The next two days blended into a whirl of dark, dank hiding places, quick, restless naps while the other kept watch, the smooth, cool feel of stolen bacta on the worst of their injuries, and the clanging of droids as they scoured the city for the would be assassins. Ventress had committed herself to caring for Quinlan's distressed Padawan, the young girl stubborn and insistent, and she had to convince the Togruta more than once that going back to the palace to check for her Master - just in case! - was a _terrible_ idea. They wouldn't find him. Not here, not on Raxus. Several times, they were nearly caught by Grievous and his MagnaGuard, but they always managed to slip away just in time, duck into a new hiding place, blend in with a different throng of people as they went about their daily lives in the beautiful, thriving capital of the Confederacy. It almost felt as though there _wasn't_ a war going on. Eventually, they managed to leave the city, dirty and limping and in bad need of medical attention and food, and with their goal in sight, they made one last push, a mad dash for the ship they arrived in, stet down in a well concealed cove near one of Raxus' many oceans.

There was a fear for a moment that the ship would be gone, but they found her just where they left her, Ventress' _Banshee_ , ready to carry them to safely. They boarded and were off as quickly as they were able, fraught with tension as they left the planet and made the jump to hyperspace. The coordinates that Ventress frantically punched in weren't random, but it was close. They were headed for the Core Worlds, that's all she knew, far, far away from Raxus and the Confederacy. After that, when space blended into the blue and white blur of the safety of hyperspace, the woman sat in silence, Ventress simply staring out the forward viewport, and Ahsoka gripping the lightsaber that she had recovered from the palace grounds after her fall. It was her Master's, and he was going to need it back when they saved him.

As the minutes turned to hours, Ventress slowly became aware of his filthy they were, how badly they reeked, how three days of living in sewers and worse had left them fatigued, but the concern and the stress that they were allowed to feel in their safety left them too wired to sleep. She had left her seat, insisted that Ahsoka bathe first, and when the girl stubbornly refused to move, or even acknowledge that she had been spoken to, Ventress grabbed her roughly by the arm and dragged her into the small shower situated between the two cabins on the ship. The Togruta was stripped and thrown under the water with no complaint, the dark stain of bruises and deep gouges left by Grievous' clawed grasp was clear upon her body as the dirt was washed away. Ventress roughly aided in scrubbing the girl clean of filth before she pulled her out, threw a towel at her, and climbed in herself to be rid of the grime.

Ventress had plenty of her own clothes, as it _was_ her ship, but since Ahsoka didn't have an invitation, she had no need to divest herself of her regular clothing as Vos and Ventress were forced to do, exchanging Jedi robes and tight, light armor for formalwear for the occasion. Which, of course, meant that Ahsoka didn't have a change of clothing. Ventress growled in irritation as she tried to fit the young Togruta into some of the tight, black leather that she wore, and while Ahsoka was thin enough for it, her limbs were far shorter, and it fit her poorly. Still, she wore it, overlaying Quinlan's robe over her shoulders, which was almost comically large, and cinching it with her Master's belt that she had to tie instead of buckle. The Padawan was left looking disheveled and awkward, and Ventress would have been laughing at the girl in any other circumstance but this one. Instead, she just felt heartache, the Padawan's and her own, for the lost Quinlan.

"Is he dead?" Ventress looked at the girl, sitting on the edge of Asajj's bed, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, the long robes brushing the tops of her bare feet. For a moment, Ventress wasn't sure if she had simply been hearing things, but the girl asked again, softer than before in a voice straining with held back tears, "Is he dead?"

"He could be," Ventress whispered, wishing that she could give the girl more comfort than that, wishing that she could give _herself_ more comfort. "It didn't look like Obi-Wan would kill him. If he was going to, Vos would have died where he stood, but I didn't see Kenobi draw his lightsaber."

Ahsoka didn't look up from staring intently at the ground. "We saw his ship leave."

"Yes."

"And you think Master Quinlan was on it."

Ventress nodded. "I do."

"Where would he take him?" Ventress sucked in a sharp breath and held it, looked the girl over, felt her heart aching, and knew that Ventress felt the same way in the Force. She had been so reluctant to share anything about Obi-Wan with the Jedi, but that was before Kenobi had gotten his hands on Quinlan. Her friend. Her _lover_. For a long, long time, Kenobi had spoken about Vos, reveled in the idea of him falling, detailed how it would be to have his best friend join him in darkness, and Ventress _knew_ he was safe. Obi-Wan wouldn't kill Quinlan Vos, and Quinlan was too strong to break. The Padawan hadn't said it directly, but Ventress picked up on her intention through her questions. She was already planning a way to save her Master from the Sith Lord that held him. Ventress could give up her information for that.

"There are only two places he would have taken him," she said softly. "Serenno or Mustafar."

This time, Ahsoka looked up, her big, blue eyes wet with unshed tears, but there was confusion on her face as she struggled to understand, not just what Ventress had said, but _everything_ that had transpired. "Mustafar?" she muttered, shaking her head slightly. "What's on Mustafar?"

"Lava," Ventress said quickly. "And Obi-Wan's palace." Ahsoka's bright blue eyes flashed with determination, and Ventress quickly regretted saying anything. "There is _no_ escape from Mustafar, Tano. _None_. I've been there, and it's a death trap."

"If Master Quinlan's there-"

"He _absolutely_ will be," Asajj hissed. "There's no good way to get into Mustafar, and getting out is even worse. But," she said slowly, "I'm not certain that he will _only_ be kept there. If we can find him when he's on Serenno, _if_ he's on Serenno..." She took a deep breath, a plan beginning to form in her mind even as she stood there. "If he's on Serenno, I can get him out."

"You can?" the Padawan asked, hopeful, and Ventress nodded.

"I lived there for many years, I know every hallway, every corridor, every entrance and exit, the schedules of _everything_. Launching an attack on Dooku's home is _madness_ , but-"

"But it's worth it for him." Ahsoka finished, jumping to her feet, her exhaustion forgotten in her excitement. "We have to go! We have to go _now_!"

"Tano, _listen_ to yourself," Ventress sighed as she rolled her eyes, but the girl didn't seem to hear her.

"The longer he is with Kenobi, the more likely he will be lost to us, right?" The color draining from Ventress' face was all she needed for an answer. "What, do you think I'm an idiot?" the Togruta sneered. "I've seen what Kenobi's done to him, heard what he's said. I've felt the darkness inside him, I've seen him _murder_ a man. I know it takes more than just that to be a Sith, but you can't tell me that's not the Dark Side. Even _you_ have been training him to use it!" The Padawan was shouting, her tone accusatory. She didn't mean to, but each word she spoke filled her with more anger. Tano turned from Ventress, took a deep breath to calm herself, and twisted Vos' lightsaber in her hands. "Is the Dark Side stronger?" she asked softly, and Ventress didn't know how to respond.

After a long silence, Asajj looking down at the floor and feeling the burning of the Padawan's eyes on her, she slowly nodded. "Stronger, perhaps. Yes. It's more ruthless, in any case, and that brutality lends itself to power, if one had the courage to take it."

They were in over their heads. With a petulant pout on her lips, Ahsoka marched out of the room, the Nightsister close on her heals, and strode into the cockpit, pulling back the lever to disengage the hyperdrive, and before Ventress could protest, both women were thrown forward as they reverted to real space, the stars resuming their pinpoint positions in the sky. A vicious snarl was on Ventress' face, and before she could say anything, Ahsoka raised her hands up in the air and quickly shouted, "We need help, we need the Jedi!"

" _That's the stupidest thing I have ever heard_!" the Nightsister snarled, dragging the girl up by her oversized robes and throwing her into the copilot's seat. "Kenobi has Vos, and he's not going to let _anyone_ take what he thinks belongs to him. What Jedi can beat him, hmm?"

"I know a few," the Togruta said swiftly, and when Ventress shot her a disbelieving look, she counted off on her fingers. "Master Yoda. Qui-Gon Jinn. Anakin Skywalker. He's a _Council member_! They won't just leave him!"

"We need someone as brutal and vicious as Kenobi," Ventress growled. "We need bounty hunters, and we need the best."

"We need _both_ ," the Togruta hissed. "I know this is going to be difficult, but we _have_ to save Master Quinlan, and _bounty hunters_ aren't going to cut it. We need Jedi. We need to create a diversion to draw Kenobi and Dooku and _whoever else_ away while we look for my Master!" Ventress said nothing, but she reached over and put in new coordinates, engaged the hyperdrive, and a moment later, the ship was in hyperspace for the quick jump to Coruscant.

"Alright," Ventress said softly. "Do you have a plan?"

" _W-well_..." she said sheepishly, running her hand over the cones of her montrails. "You said _you_ knew the palace, right? I thought-" Ventress howled in frustration and ran her hands over her face, cursing under her breath.

"A _distraction_..." Ventress' finger circled the nodes and switches that lined the control console. She took a deep breath. "If we plan it just right, if we have _everything_ in order, we can time this in a way that will put the least amount of people on Serenno. Dooku will be there. Kenobi will be there. But we can make sure Grievous isn't. We can even make sure that _new_ apprentice isn't."

"Where will Master Quinlan be?" Ahsoka asked, bouncing in her seat.

"The dungeons," she said softly, shivering as she did. She couldn't imagine Quinlan there. "They will need to break him, and I don't think they can. Quinlan is... _inclined_ toward the Dark Side, but not toward the Sith. I hope..." Ventress knew the Sith couldn't break Vos, but that wasn't the point. They wouldn't _need_ to break him. She had seen what Obi-Wan did to Jedi, knew how strong his sway was, and Vos had been worked on for a long time. She only hoped that his strength of will was enough to resist his old friend.

"So, we sneak in... _somehow_ ," Ahsoka said softly. "We have a team create a diversion while _we_ rescue Master Quinlan, and then we get out of there as fast as we can."

"It's better than no plan at all..." Ventress grumbled as the ship reverted to real space, the city planet of Coruscant blinking into existence before them. She set their course for the Jedi Temple and leaned back in the seat, frowning as the ship quickly entered Coruscant's atmosphere. "Will the Jedi help us?"

Ahsoka nodded. "I think so. If not for my Master..." She swallowed a hard lump in her throat. She didn't know why she suddenly doubted the Council, but she did. It was the Council, after all, that had failed to stop the Sithkiller from becoming Sith, and now, she had a sudden, sinking feeling that they may fail in the same thing once again. "If not for my Master," she started again, "than they will do it for a chance at Kenobi."

They didn't say another word as the _Banshee_ was guided down into one of the hangars of the Jedi Temple, the ship given special clearance before they left for the disastrous mission to Raxus, and they landed without incident. When they got out of the ship, they were greeted with _chaos_. Everywhere, the Jedi were rushing about, Knights and Masters yelling and frantic and jumping into their starships. It took a few minutes for the women to piece together what had happened, but when they did, they were back in the Banshee and following the other ships out toward the Republic Judiciary Central Detention Center, a high-security prison that housed the Republic's most dangerous criminals.

Someone had broken in, and in the chaos that ensued, Wat Tambor and Poggle the Lesser had escaped.


	88. Masters

"Your plan is in motion?"

"...soon, Master."

Sidious circled his apprentice, watching him carefully through sharp, golden eyes. It was dark in the underground temple, as it always was, the Dark Side thick and still, the calm before a storm, even in the presence of the increasingly powerful Darth Lumis. It was fortunate that this power only came to him after he had lost everything, leaving him deprived of purpose or motivation without the Sith. It had guaranteed Lumis' loyalty to Sidious, keeping his desire for murder, but removing the will to follow through. Lumis truly hated everything, and it was so consuming that even _Tyranus_ had contacted the Master to voice his concern. Sidious had brushed it off initially, claimed that it would pass as he grew used to the new power that grief had provided, but then came Ord Mantell.

Sidious didn't think it was possible, that Lumis had the ability, but the young Sith had exerted his influence, whipped his followers into a frenzy, and gone and destroyed a planet, consuming it in the fires that he had sworn to bring to the galaxy. Not just the planet, but the entire system, and while the system _was_ small, while only the main planet of Ord Mantell could support life, anything that could be burned was consumed by the wrath of the Sith. It was enough for Sidious to have to reach out and bring his apprentice to heel. Dooku's warnings of the man's insanity seemed to be well founded, and while Sidious wasn't necessarily _object_ to Lumis destroying the scum that would come to be purged from the galaxy anyway, it seemed far more likely that Lumis would see the galaxy burn so he could rule the ashes.

Destruction was _not_ the point, was _not_ the plan. The Sith would bring _order_ to the galaxy, and destruction was a means to an end, _not_ the end itself. Lumis had to be recentered. _Refocused_. Which is why he was here now, hours before his plan was to be executed, stripped to the waist and kneeling on the cold stone of the ground, his head bowed, his breathing deep and even, for the most part. Occasionally, Sidious would feel the Dark Side rush to the man as his breathing quickened to near hyperventilation, his shaky hands sliding into his hair, his eyes tightly shut as the visions he was so accustomed to tore through him. They were more frequent here, as if one Dark Side nexus was responding to the presence of another, and when the Force entered Lumis' mind, so did Sidious.

It was chaos within his mind, and not just there, but in the Force as well. Alight with flames, the visions came in fast, turbulent bursts, firestorms in a rough, blackened sea, and Sidious understood how his apprentice was driven to madness. Lumis' longtime ally the Force had turned, swept him away in a flash flood and drowned him with the wrathful power sprung from hatred and grief. While it wasn't the Force itself that was tormenting him, the very touch of it upon his vengeful mind was like striking a match, and the man's mind was consumed with fire and flames and _burning_ until he could think of nothing else. He needed to be tempered and controlled, lest the Dark Side take ownership of Lumis and never give him back, and Sidious had set to the task immediately, his calm, controlling presence in the Sith Lord's mind and slowly, _slowly_ catching the flames and dousing them.

"Skywalker is after you," Sidious said, his voice smooth, calm, even. It had been part of the plan, after all.

"...yes, Master," Lumis replied, his gold eyes heavy-lidded as his mind struggled through the fog of the Force and his Master's touch, the closest thing to rest he had gotten since Mandalore fell. Sidious' eyes narrowed as he examined the thin, gaunt frame of his apprentice, each scar deep and dark upon his pale form, each line of his powerful muscles clearly seen as they shifted and tensed under paper-thin skin. Dooku had been right. The boy clearly hadn't been eating.

"He is chasing you now," Sidious growled dangerously, but the apprentice didn't show any sign of noticing, any sign of caring about his displeasure. "Burning Ord Mantell has put him on your trail. His Admiral knows your plan exactly, and if you continue this path, they _will_ catch you."

"They are no match for me, Master," was the icy reply, and Sidious scoffed, circled behind the kneeling man, dragged his fingers along the long, burning welts that his lightsaber had inflicted earlier. Lumis didn't flinch. Even when the red blade had lashed upon him earlier, Lumis showed no indication that he could even _feel_ the pain of it.

"I'm not saying they are," Sidious hissed. "I'm saying that burning your way across the galaxy will destroy all we worked so hard to achieve. I did _not_ begin this to rule over the dead, Lumis, and if you burn everything around you, you may find yourself without an escape." Sidious snarled viciously. "And before it comes to that, I will slay you myself."

The Lord of the Sith waited in silence, watching as Lumis' shoulders slumped, the corded muscles of his back and shoulders trembling, but the man did not respond, which was uncharacteristic of the apprentice, who had only ever sought to please. Sidious walked around and knelt before him, hooked his finger under the bearded chin, and forced his head up, and he hissed in irritation when he saw the younger Sith's eyes to be white, the golden irises rolled back into his head as the Force took him. Sliding his gnarled fingers into the man's sandy blond hair, Sidious entered his mind, Lumis offering no resistance, no reluctance in his submission.

The winds of the Dark Side whipped at Sidious' robes and carried blackened ash and glowing embers into the turbulent air. The sky was dark, stormy with clouds and distant lightning, the surrounding landscape blackened and charred, and glowing coals at the edges of his vision allowed small flames to lap at anything it could touch, the smouldering veins of red and orange within blackened wood threatening to erupt into a blaze once again at the slightest provocation. But for now, it was contained. The peace was tenuous, yes, but it was no longer the inferno it was before, the smoke and flames having obscured even the Force from the Sith Master. Though the threat of being once again consumed lay above him, the vision was clear, and with a deep breath, Sidious stepped over the bodies of a thousand dead Jedi to come and stand next to his apprentice.

"You are troubled," the Master said, folding his arms into the sleeves of his robes. It wasn't a question, and certainly not one that demanded a response. Lumis lifted his hand and pointed over the blackened, burned expanse of the vision to a shadow, lithe and thin and slowly, cautiously creeping closer.

"She's different," Lumis whispered. "She has always been so far off, so far out of my reach, but now..." He sighed, shut his eyes tight, the coals around them beginning once again to rise into flames, but a soothing touch on his back forced a shuddering breath from his lungs and the tension in his body released, the flames receding. "She used to be clear, than her figure became shadowed, and now..." He reached out a hand, and slowly, the girl walked toward him, and Sidious squinted, saw through the haze of the smoke that rose from the ash that she was Togruta. She was nearly close enough to touch, and slowly, the shadow reached out for the Sith Lords.

"Have you deciphered the meaning?" Sidious asked, and Lumis shook his head.

"She's a Jedi. Or, _was_ one. I captured her Master, made him accept the Sith. Perhaps this is why." His eyes narrowed, his fists balled by his side, and flames began to rise. "But the Force _lies_. False visions and betrayal!" He felt his Master's hand on the back of his neck, the older man pushing down on him with far greater strength than a man his age should have, and Lumis fell to his knees in the ash, his ragged breathing slowing as Sidious subdued the flames.

"The Force is ever-changing, apprentice," Sidious said softly, his hands raking through Lumis' hair, dragging against his scalp, the cool touch sending shivers down his spine and chilling his feverish skin. "It lives and breathes and changes as events unfold. And what's more, the Force is _on our side_." His hand tightened in the sandy hair, though Lumis didn't utter any complaint. "The visions we have give our plan _focus_. We see what the Force has in store for us, and it is up to us to use that knowledge to manipulate our surroundings to see a desired outcome, or take steps to alter one we find unfavorable."

" _No_ ," he hissed, bitter and angry, but the tight hand in his hair, the other sliding down to gently stroke the beard on his cheek, kept the coals from erupting into flames. "I see my son. _All the time_ , I can see him, I-"

"Just because you do not understand a vision doesn't mean the Force _lies_ ," Sidious hissed. "And nor did the Force betray you. Your visions, or _lack thereof_ , led you _exactly_ where you needed to be. Her death, Lumis, was _your_ failure, and that it came to pass was the will of the Force. It was your destiny to lose her, just as it was your destiny to betray the Jedi and join the Sith." He could feel Lumis tremble as his anger rose, felt the heat around him as flames blazed around them, could feel the ground tremble, then violently shake beneath them, and before he knew what was happening, Sidious found himself thrown from his apprentice's mind, and he was back within his physical form, Lumis' face clutched tightly between his hands and the Dark Side rending the peace of the silence around them as it roared in fury.

Sidious remained calm, cold, commanding as he threw his apprentice to the ground, the boy's body flailing in protest in unison with the thrashing of the Force, and with the swiftness of a much younger man, Sidious pressed his hand against Lumis' chest, keeping him pinned to the ground as he reached out to take command of the Dark Side. It roared in rage as it was grabbed, thrashing against the cold touch of the Master of the Sith, but Sidious remained unmoved, all his hate and anger focused into a weapon that lanced through the apprentice. The thin body tensed in sharp pain long enough for Sidious to swing his leg over the thrashing man and sit upon his stomach, using the Force to increase the weight of his body to keep the powerful Lumis pinned to the ground. Sidious wrapped his hands around the other Sith's pale neck, and with cold, wrathful detachment, tightened his grasp, choking the life out of the body that the Force was in possession of.

Strong hands shot up and began to claw at Sidious' arms, drawing long lines of deep, red blood even through his thick, black cloak, but the Master held fast, eyes closed and muttering in Ancient Sith under his breath to sooth his apprentice as he commanded the Force to obey. The heels of Lumis' boots scraped against the ground as he struggled, bucking against the Master that sat unmoving upon him, but he fought against the weight of the Force as well. As the body became deprived of oxygen, the brain deprived of blood, Lumis' movements slowed, his eyelids fluttering over the whites of his eyes, the gold rolled far back into his head, his frantic kicking becoming no more than occasional spasms. The Force calmed, was tamed as the thin, pale body became sluggish, the brain long past the point of unconsciousness, and any movement, and resistance was simply residual twitching of his muscles, moved by the Force in a final effort to resist. Lumis' body stopped moving, and Sidious felt the Dark Side roll over, showing him the belly of the mighty beast, it's quivering throat exposed as it surrendered to him. His hands loosened on the pale throat, and with a deep breath, the Sith Master filled his apprentice with the Dark Side he now commanded and reentered his mind.

The vision was gone, and Lumis lay in ash, clutching his throat against an invisible hand, the flames culled into softly glowing embers, and he tensed when his Master's hand slid back into his hair, a desperate, wanting moan torn from his chest when the pressure on his throat lifted and he felt his Master's pleasure and his pride. "Good, Lumis..." Sidious drawled, satisfaction and enjoyment in his voice that made the apprentice shiver. "Hold on to that anger, that _hatred_. But _focus_ it. You let your wrath consume you, and it has made you strong, but the Dark Side will kill you if it senses any weakness. Your lack of control is _weakness_ , and I will drive it from you. We are _Sith_. We strive for perfection, for strength, and by achieving such, we will have power."

"...yes, Master." Sidious smirked when he felt the resignation in his apprentice. At the very least, it was the beginnings of control over the raging boy, and deprived of his previous motivations, Sidious was left with an apprentice that had nothing left to lose but the Sith. It left him with an unshakable loyalty, far greater than what he ever had exhibited before.

"Do you know who I am?" Sidious asked, and he could feel Lumis shift, tense with uncertainty.

"You are my Master."

"But what's my name?"

Lumis finally looked at the man that knelt beside his prone form, his hand in his hair almost affectionately, and he felt his heart _ache_. "Darth Sidious."

"Darth Sidious..." the Master repeated, a low growl of satisfaction in his voice. "Darth Sidious, yes. But not to everyone. Not to all. I am Palpatine to most, so let me ask you again, apprentice, who am I?"

The tired eyes looked up at the Sith Master, searching his face for understanding, trying to discern what it is he wanted, what answer it was he wished to hear, and slowly, he came to realize there was only one answer. "...you are Darth Sidious," Lumis said after a long pause. To his satisfaction, the Master nodded.

"I was born Sidious, trapped in a body that struggled to contain me, until _my_ Master saw the Sith Lord within the boy called Palpatine, and through his teachings, he _freed_ me. There was never any Palpatine. He is a mask. A _cage_. And once free of that cage, he could be used as a tool." The Master carefully, almost lovingly, stroked the man's bearded cheek, a cruel mockery of a lover's touch, and the apprentice _shivered_ , a pained whimper ripped from his throat as he shut his eyes tight. "Do you understand, apprentice?" Sidious asked, and the man nodded his head.

"I understand, Master."

"I saw Lumis within you on our first meeting, and since then, you have been freed of your former self. You now strive to achieve your full potential." The gnarled fingers wrapped in his hair and pulled his head back, a cruel, displeased look on the Master's face. " _Do not squander it_. We still have use for Obi-Wan Kenobi, and will continue to have use for him so long as the Jedi exist. Do not burn your tools, my friend."

Deep within him, Lumis couldn't help but feel that Sidious was wrong. Obi-Wan Kenobi was someone else, a different man. A _weaker_ man, and a fool that loved too deeply when he knew full well that life was fleeting. He had tasted the darkness, reveled in it, embraced the pleasures it had brought to him, but didn't understand the full measure of the Dark Side until the red blade of Maul slew him, burning the very heart out of him until there was nothing left but death and flames. For a moment, _everything_ fell away as he sunk deeper into the Force, the pain, the suffering, the hate, even the image of his Master beside him, his strong hands in his hair, faded into nothingness. Lumis stood, engulfed in darkness and breathed deeply, felt the Jedi Temple above him, the billions of lives on Coruscant, each a tiny light in the Force, but their light couldn't reach him. They were nothing, and would always be nothing.

He squinted, his eyes glowing in the oppressive dark as he looked out to a small, faint point of light, so faint he was uncertain he actually saw it, but he followed it anyway, and though he couldn't see himself moving, couldn't feel it, the light grew brighter, stronger, closer, until it took shape, and Lumis froze, not daring to draw any closer. It was a vision, it had to be, or else a sharp, painful memory. There he knelt - not _him_ , Kenobi - cradling the gutted Satine in his arms, one hand covering the bleeding wound so close to the swell of their son, the other cupping her smooth, pale cheek, his golden eyes dull and pale, his shoulders slumped, his face despondent, and Lumis felt himself tremble, not in rage or anger, but in grief. He hadn't felt it before. It had always been anger, wrath consumed by flames the Force itself burning as it touched him and filled his visions with fire, driving him far past the point of insanity. But now, in this darkness, in this vision, if that's what it was, he couldn't feel the flames. He just felt... _empty_.

"I feel it too," a deep, soothing voice said from behind him, and Lumis whipped around reached for his lightsaber, only to find that it wasn't there, and he looked into the eyes of his former Master, the aging man ghostly and pale.

"My Master can't even reach me here," Lumis hissed, backing up quickly and stopping suddenly when he felt grief creep into him as he drew nearer to the ghosts that lay before him. They were ghosts. _All_ of them where ghosts. "How can _you_ be here?"

Qui-Gon snorted. "I'm one with the Force, Obi-Wan. There aren't many places I can't go."

"Obi-Wan is _dead_ ," the Sith growled, pointing behind him to the couple, the dead, the _ghosts_. Qui-Gon leaned sideways to look around Lumis, a small smile on his lips.

"Really. He doesn't look dead to me."

" _He is_."

"He just looks like he is grieving," Qui-Gon said with a shrug. "As are you. As am I. Satine was a good woman."

"Don't you _dare_ speak of her, don't you dare say her name!"

"Why?" Qui-Gon asked, offended, drawling back and crossing his arms over his chest, his face stern and his disposition admonishing. "And what are you going to do, hurt me? Kill me?" He chuckled. "I don't believe that you will, and even of you _would_ , these is nothing you can do to me here, within the river of the Force." The Sith Lord snarled and turned his back to Qui-Gon, his breath hitching when he found himself looking at Satine, at himself, at the grieving lover as he stroked back pale blond hair from her sharp, angular features. He shut his eyes. He couldn't look at it. He reached out a hand, tightly held the Force around him and commanded it to kill the shadow of his former self, to put the miserable wretch out of his misery, but nothing happened.

"You can't kill him, Obi-Wan," Jinn said, rolling his eyes. "He _is_ you, as much as you wish to deny it."

"He was weak," Lumis growled. "He was foolish, and his failure killed Satine, he-" He stopped, choking on his words as he felt the sting of tears in his tired, burning eyes, and he quickly blinked them away. _Why_ was this happening? He was angry at Satine's death, beyond livid, he wasn't _sad_. The Sith took pain and grief and turned it into power by focusing their rage, and he had _done_ that, just as his Master commanded. So why did he still so keenly feel empty? He had filled it with flames before, but now, Sidious had done his work to quell it, tame it, and this far into the Force, even the consuming fires that drove him to madness couldn't reach him.

"For a long while," Qui-Gon said softly, "when I closed my eyes, I saw you. The Padawan I lost, murdered by the Sith, driven to destruction by actions that were mine." A sad smile crossed his lips. "When I look at you now," he said, pointing to the pair on the floor, "I see _that_. My old student, grief stricken over the loss of the girl he had loved since he was sixteen years old."

"Why are you doing this?" Lumis whispered, trying to sound strong and commanding, but it had failed him entirely.

"Because you are _broken_ , Obi-Wan." He scoffed. "The Jedi certainly wouldn't approve of this. They are taking this opportunity to hunt you, after all, but this isn't about them anymore. This is about _you_." He smiled softly. "I see her in my dreams. Tahl, the woman I loved. I see her die, over and over again, I feel my own brush with the Dark Side. I feel the burn of revenge upon me, and I heard her words calling to me through the Force to keep me in the light."

"Satine would _never_ do that!" he hissed. "Satine believed in the ideals of the Sith, she-"

" _I know_ , Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said firmly, holding up his hand. "I know. I'm not here to sway you. I'm not here to drag you into the light. I'm here because you are hurting."

"I don't want your sympathy, _Jedi_. Pain makes me stronger, it has _always_ made me stronger!"

"I know." Qui-Gon sighed heavily. "You know I lack the gift of foresight that you have. I choose instead to follow the Force where it takes me, and it leads me right to you _every time_. And if the Force wants me beside my fallen, Sith Lord student, than this is where I will be."

Lumis looked over the man carefully, averting his eyes when he looked too close and the light began to burn. He could see the despondent Obi-Wan looking at the Jedi out of the corner of his red-rimmed eyes as well, though the ashen man said nothing. "The Jedi will have something to say about your involvement with me," Lumis said, his breathing easier, his tone lighter, and with a gasp, he recoiled when he felt the comfort of the Force wash over him, as burning and revolting as it had been before. He pushed it away.

"The Jedi are wrong about a great many things," Qui-Gon said slowly. "But most of all, our handling of you. We have lost our way. Before the war, we never would have met a grieving man with violence. And..." Jinn said, his voice stuttering, and Lumis watched the struggle play upon the man. "Perhaps there are those that deserve what I am sure is coming to them."

"You hardly sound Jedi!" Lumis said triumphantly, laughter in his voice, and the Master crossed his arms over his chest and glared at the gleeful Sith.

"When have I _ever_ sounded like a Jedi, Obi-Wan?" Lumis bristled, his hands clenching into fists, and he called the Dark Side to him, whipping it into a ferocious storm that tore at his robes, but the Jedi stood calm and cool and unaffected.

" _Don't call me that_! I am Darth Lumis, I have _always been_ Darth Lumis!" he shouted, recalling the words of his Master, but as he did, he recalled his doubts as well. The words felt hollow. Looking at the man that held Satine's body, he knew it wasn't true, _felt_ it wasn't true.

"Obi-Wan Kenobi," Qui-Gon said softly, "was a talented student, quiet and studious, frightfully intelligent, and defiant, if the occasion called for it. He followed the rules to the best of his ability, believed in the Jedi Code, trusted in the Force."

"And he was a _fool_ ," Lumis snarled.

" _And_ ," Qui-Gon said, ignoring the Sith, "he loved a woman so deeply that for ten years, it never faded. He and Satine grew powerful together, created a life together, and now she is dead and one with the Force."

" _Shut up_!"

"You say you aren't that man," Qui-Gon said softly. "And for a while, I believed it. I reached out to you through our connection and felt nothing but fire." The Jedi pointed a finger at Lumis' chest, and the touch burned, but the Sith didn't shy away from it. He would accept this pain, like all pain. "There is darkness in all of us. You have embraced that darkness, but that doesn't mean who you are is dead. Obi-Wan loved Satine. It is he that suffers from her loss. Do you mean to tell me you do not suffer?"

"...no."

"I know what grief does to a man," Qui-Gon said softly. "I've experienced it myself and I see it in you." He sighed, ran a hand through his long hair. "Satine is dead, and it is a tragedy, but if you kill Obi-Wan, she will truly be lost to you. She will just be the dead love of another dead man, and of what significance are the dead to Darth Lumis?" The Sith was silent, hardly breathing as he looked at Kenobi, his lover clutched tightly in his grasp, but his dead eyes focused on the Jedi Knight. "For you," Qui-Gon said softly, drawing nearer, "grief will lend you pain to fuel your anger. The memory of her will make you stronger, as I am certain she would want. Your path is one of pain, Obi-Wan, but in time, even this too shall pass."

Lumis tried to answer, but found he couldn't. Again, he felt the comforting caress of the Force, warm and soft and gentle, and he made to push it away before he stopped, catching his bottom lip between his teeth when he saw Kenobi's dull gold eyes looking at him expectantly. He closed his eyes, reached out and lay a hand on his other self's shoulder, thin and bony under his touch, emaciated from the grief and the neglect, and when Lumis opened his eyes, Kenobi was gone, and Satine lay in his arms, peaceful and cold as she was when he laid her to rest on Mandalore. The Force flowed slow, soothing, comforting within him, and it burned him, _hurt_ him, but he accepted it, took it within him, and made it his own. The pain would make him stronger, far stronger than if he pushed it away as he had been, focus and purpose sacrificed to feed the flames of his insanity that burned away his old self. The wound would always be there. _Always_ , a constant source of grief and pain and power.

"They have stolen the heart from inside you, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said softly, his burning hand on the Sith's shoulders, and he winced at the touch. "Do not let this define you. You know who you are."

"I will destroy the Jedi," Lumis whispered. "The Sith will rise, and our revenge will be complete and there's _nothing_ any of you can do about it."

"...I know." The Jedi patted the man's shoulder and turned from him, slowly walking away as he began to fade.

" _Qui-Gon_!" He heard himself shout it before he could stop himself. "You have always trusted the will of the Force, so tell me. _How_ could this be what the Force wants?"

"I don't know." He smiled gently at his former student, his body fading, becoming almost like mist. "But I do know this. Satine is one with the Force now, as is your son. I think, if you listen very carefully, you will feel them guiding you. The Force hasn't left you yet, and Satine certainly never will."

He started to respond, soft and hesitant, but he felt himself gripped tightly, his chest depressing as air refused to flow into his lungs, and he was torn from the Jedi and the woman in his grasp, and moments later, he felt himself strike the cold, hard ground of the dark cavern, his eyes wide and his heart beating so fast, so hard that he could see the pounding through his bare chest. His eyes adjusted to the dark as though he were born to it, and while he could still see flames burning at the edge of his vision, he could _see_ , a vast improvement from before when all he could see were flames, and all he desired was to watch everything burn. The air hurt his lungs, the back of his throat tasting of blood as he sucked in greedy gasps of frigid oxygen. His pale chest was covered in the familiar burns of Force lightning, tendrils of thin smoke rising off the spidering welts.

Above him stood Darth Sidious, his hood thrown back and his yellow eyes wide with anger and concern and relief. For reasons he couldn't explain, he felt as though he hadn't seen his Master in a _very_ long time, as though he had been lost and alone and forgotten, drowning in a sea that threatened to pull him under, and Sidious had come to save him. He reached up and took the Master's hand in his, and Sidious almost gently lay his other hand over the one he held.

"I thought I had lost you to the Force, my friend," Sidious said quietly. "I could see nothing within you."

"I saw Satine," he said softly, answering the Master's unasked question. "And myself, and Qui-Gon Jinn."

"All things you have lost," Sidious pondered, stroking the back of his apprentice's hand, and Lumis involuntarily shuddered. "Can you follow through with your plan?"

The plan was simple, but the plan was also a betrayal of Satine, and the sudden stab of pain he felt made him flinch, and instead of fueling that pain into rage, he held on to it, allowed himself to feel it deeply, embrace the grief of his loss. It left him aching with overwhelming sadness, with a burning need to ease the pain, but also with bitter acceptance of his loss. Sidious had been right. It was the will of the Force, it was his destiny to lose her. Her death would give him new power, new purpose, new meaning, and even in death, Satine would guide him with the hand of the Force, just as she had always done in life. After all, the Force was with the Sith.

"I can, my Master," he said softly. "I...will make use of Obi-Wan." By embracing him. By accepting him, and all the pain he carried. He would not forget who he was again. He was Darth Lumis, Lord of the Sith, the Negotiator, now the Shadow King of Mandalore, and he had always been and always _was_ Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Sidious nodded and handed the Sith Lord a card imbedded with a security chip. "The Senator's key. Don't waste this opportunity. We may only have this one chance. Her corruption will weaken her place in the Senate, and with Satine dead, Amidala has become _quite_ problematic."

"She won't be for long, Master," Lumis said softly, twirling the card around his fingers as he grinned in delight as the Force began to howl, thrashing with the chaos and the panic of the Jedi in their Temple. Cad Bane had begun his attack, and it was time to get to work.


	89. Padmé

Life on Coruscant hadn't changed. Where he emerged, out from an abandoned warehouse, the pathway well concealed by the Dark Side, the Force itself compelling those that walked by to simply look away, the people were poor, dirty, more criminal than not, as often was the case on the lover levels. Bowed heads and furtive glances belied malicious intent, and Lumis could feel eyes upon him as he walked, his hood pulled over his head, his golden eyes downcast. He was being sized up, assessed as a mark by thieves, as a client by the dealers, as a quick romp in a dark ally by those willing to exchange their bodies for credits. He ignored them all, the addicts in their haze, the gangs threateningly holding their weapons, the scantily clad women. Instead, he focused, muttering the Code under his breath to calm his nerves, to quench the flames that burned at the edge of his vision, to stave off the insanity that sought to slip in the moment he allowed his focus to slip.

He used the public transports to get where he needed to be, the quality of the creatures he pressed against in the crowded ships rising as he rose through the levels, and by the time he reached the surface, beings in fine clothing and business attire surrounded him, the latest technology held in their hands and talking in the aristocratic, clipped accent that affected his own voice. They rushed about on their own business, paying no heed to others, and save for the occasional sirens on the ships of the Coruscant Security Force as they sped toward the prison where Cad Bane was launching his attack, there was no indication that anything was wrong at all, no sign that there was a war going on at all. An Empire fell, a planet burned, Satine had died, and Coruscant was no different for it. The _galaxy_ was no different for it. Life simply went on, and it took everything in Lumis not to strike them all down where they stood.

Fires burned at the edge of his vision, and he repressed a faint, manic chuckle as he stepped out of the transport and into the busy streets as near to 500 Republica as he could get. The area had been locked down for security reasons, no doubt because of Bane's attack.. He took a deep breath, willing the Force to calm his mind, focus his intent, and walked through the busy streets, looking for a way into the Senatorial District and past one of the many barricades, and finally found his way past one where no Jedi were standing guard. He walked the rest of the way in a daze, his mind awash in the emptiness of grief and the fires of revenge, and his already strained consciousness was torn between managing it all. He was so close now, _so close_ , to making Anakin Skywalker pay for what had happened, but it would never be if he lost his focus, slipped out of himself and back into the madness that could so easily consume him. He would be a _storm_ , furious and mighty as any force of nature was. Hundreds would die, _thousands_ would fall, all of them burning, _burning_...

Lumis hissed, his jaw clenched tightly as he renewed chanting the Code, a reminder to himself, a _promise_ , that the Force would set him free, if only he harnessed his passions to gain the power to take it. Free of _everything_. Free of his pain, his grief, his _insanity_. The madness was the worst of it. He knew that grief had driven him mad, had caused the Force to catch fire when he touched it, had caused him to open up and lay himself bare, the Dark Side exposed and in control, and to a Force sensitive, to a _Jedi_ , such a thing would make him stand out like a beacon, a supernova in the dead of space. Were he to lose control now, _here_ , he would attract the attention of every Jedi in the city, and he would be found, swarmed, and killed. He needed calm, control, careful meditation and planning, and while he may have been consumed in flames for a time, there was little left within him to burn, and Obi-Wan Kenobi was made of stronger stuff.

Obi-Wan and Lumis were one and the same, and always had been. It was not _quite_ what his Master had said, but it was close enough. The madness that consumed him was the wrath of the Dark Side, the grip of a Force drunk with hatred and wrath and unlimited power drawn from the infinite well of a vergence. The Dark Side moved him, sustained him, ensured he needed no food, no rest, promised him freedom from his grief and his pain if he only _surrender_ , and Lumis willingly did, allowing his body to be used as a physical vessel of the Force, and it had driven him mad. The Dark Side was a wild beast, an apex predator, a dangerous monster that must be broken, must be tamed, lest he be devoured, and Sidious had begun the process for him, beating the Force into submission, chaining it to his will, and then handing the reins over to Lumis. With deep, even breaths, he now rode atop it, could feel its heart beat, its lungs expend, its wild, angry growl, and Lumis felt in control. However, he knew all too well that the Dark Side was feral, and it could never truly be tamed. One slip, _just one_ , and it would be over. The Dark Side would consume him, the flames at the edges of his vision would erupt into an inferno, and he'd be engulfed in madness once again, his insanity driving him to burn everything down with him.

It was a test. His Master was _always_ testing him, and were he to lose his focus for just one moment here on Coruscant, the home of the Jedi, he would be found and destroyed. Yes, the Jedi would be occupied with the diversion at the prison, but Lumis was powerful, and his insanity was consuming and without caution or care for himself. The Jedi would notice, and he'd be dead. His Master needed an apprentice that could be trusted, one that wasn't prey to insanity that would make him a liability. But Lumis did not fail. He _never_ failed his Master. He couldn't. He _wouldn't_ , not now when the Sith revenge was nearly at its conclusion, not when Sidious would need him to help him rule the Empire. Not when his Master needed a loyal and faithful apprentice to serve him. He would pass this test. He would pass _every_ test, as was expected of him, and to do that, to succeed _here_ , he needed to be the man he always was.

It was difficult to push away his anger. After all, his grief turned to wrath so quickly, but since his meeting with his Master, since his meeting with _Qui-Gon_ , he had felt... _different_. More clear, more focused, but also... _empty_. Obi-Wan let go of his anger, tightening his hold of the Dark Side and refusing it to move within him as he touched upon the dull ache within his chest, and without anger to lend him strength, without that strength to blossom into unchecked power and madness, Kenobi just felt... _sad_. Terribly so, so much that the ache in his chest felt as though it would pry the Sith wide open, and he embraced the pain. It didn't rush through him like his anger always did, like the flames did. The sorrow _seeped_ , cold and sluggish and _torturous_ , and without anger to motivate him, Obi-Wan found himself stopped outside the doors of 500 Republica, head tilted back to look up toward the top of the building he couldn't see.

Stepping back into Obi-Wan was jarring, and he wasn't prepared for the numbness he felt, the hopeless desperation, and he closed his eyes, saw himself holding Satine's body, and he felt the grief again, strong and oppressive and sitting within him like a fog, a mist that simply wouldn't clear. Rage could clear it, _had_ been clearing it, the thick haze burned away by flames, just like everything else, but now, _here_ , it wasn't an option. Being Obi-Wan was pain, but he was no Jedi that pushed feelings aside, nor another being that drowned in the cold, unfeeling waters. He was _Sith_ , and he met every challenge head on, without fear. He felt deeply, no matter what it was, and he embraced his passions, from the highest highs to the lowest lows. He thought of her, his lovely Satine, back when they were young, when they first fell in love, the elation he had felt when they had first become one, and he felt a stab of pain deep within him. Kenobi took the feeling and grasped it close. He would persevere. _This too shall pass_.

With a deep breath, Obi-Wan swiped the card and entered 500 Republica.

* * *

"I'll be out of range for a few days," Anakin said frantically, cursing under his breath as his attention was briefly diverted, and after a few harshly barked commands, he turned his attention back to Padmé. "We've got them, the entire Mandalorian fleet is _here_ over Oba Diah, and they've already started to burn it. _Negotiator_ and _Liberator_ aren't here, but I _know_ Kenobi is."

"Sounds like Tarkin was right," the Senator said softly as she let her long, curled hair drop down her back as she removed the ties and pins that had held it up. The Senate was in recess, and the Senators were all escorted home under heavy guard. Some threats had been made, and with their highest security prison suffering a security breech, they had all been rushed out of the Senate building to be taken home, or to predesignated safe houses. Padmé had returned home. There wasn't a more secure place than 500 Republica.

"Tarkin is usually right," Anakin said swiftly, the hologram flickering as the Jedi smiled softly, despite his duress.

"You can't openly attack the Mandalorians, can you?" she asked, and the Jedi shook his head.

"Attacking them isn't the plan. The plan is to save the planet and get Kenobi, and things are going to get messy real fast, even with Tarkin planning the hunt, so..." The Jedi smiled as he trailed off. "I love you."

"I love you too. Be careful, Anakin." With a smile, the Jedi cut the com, and the Senator sighed and flopped back onto the bed. Anakin would be alright. He always was. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, arching her back as she stretched and she laid a hand over her mouth as she yawned. She missed her Jedi Knight, but their meetings had been few and far between since the war began. A few short, secret rendezvous were hardly the foundation for a strong relationship, but she knew Anakin, had gotten to know him in the days before the war began. That they couldn't be seen together, that they couldn't behave like a normal couple, that they couldn't settle into a partnership was... _incidental_. The war would be over soon, and when it was, they would be together all the time.

She _was_ worried, though. She knew how dangerous Obi-Wan was, knew how dangerous the Mandalorians were, and they had already burned one system. Anakin had already failed to spring a trap on the Sith Lord once, and Obi-Wan had been the one to cut off Skywalker's right arm. _Twice_. He was smart and capable, and he spent a great deal of his time in study of the Force so he could learn how to defeat this Sith menace, but through it all, Padmé just wanted her Jedi home safe, and Kenobi taken into custody, though she knew it would not happen. Obi-Wan would die in Anakin's trap if he fell into it. She had known him before, and he had always been a bit stubborn. Certainly, like many of the other Separatist leaders, Kenobi would simply refuse to be taken alive. Which was too bad. She wanted to see him again, if only to offer what comfort she could to her old friend.

She heard the whirring mechanics and the heavy footfalls of C-3P0 shuffle into the room, but she didn't move. If she was lucky, the droid would think her asleep and let her be. "Senator Amidala," the droid said, and Padmé groaned. "You have a visitor."

Padmé didn't move for a long while, and then she slowly sat up, the strap of her silk dress falling off her shoulder. "A _what_?" she asked, dumbfounded. "The entire Senatorial district is in lock down, how did _anyone_ get here?" She bit her lip, and when the droid began to respond, she swiftly slid off the bed and smoothed the wrinkles out of her gown. "Never mind that, who is it?" she asked. Several of her friends within the Senate lived here, after all. It would be odd to have one visit with the threat of dangerous criminals hanging over their heads, but it wasn't too out of the ordinary. After all, they had been under threat many times before.

"I don't know," 3P0 said, his metallic voice sounding almost as confused as she was. "He didn't say. His face was hidden." _That_ was unusual. The fastidious droid knew everyone she was acquainted with. Before she could ask anymore questions, the droid said, "He is waiting for you in your livingroom, Senator."

"You _let him in_?!" She almost shouted it, her shoulders tense, and she stormed to a large cabinet on the wall, pulled open the drawers, and snatched a blaster from within.

"No," the droid said, voice fraught with worry as he shuffled after the angry and nervous woman. "He had a key." Padmé barely heard him as she stormed out of her room, priming the blaster in her hand as she strode down the curved hall and out into the large, spacious livingroom. He stood in the middle of the room, draped in a long, black cloak, and she pointed the blaster at him for a moment before her heart stopped and her breath caught in her chest. She didn't lower the blaster, but her arm began shaking as she stared at Obi-Wan Kenobi, fallen Jedi and Separatist commander. The man slowly raised his hands.

"Don't shoot," he said softly, his voice rough and raw and tense, and Padmé dropped the weapon, her hands flying to cover her ears. She remembered all too well what this man could do, had spoken to Anakin at length about the Sith's ability to influence the minds of others, had felt his calm, commanding voice within her in the past, and she had no desire to repeat the experience.

"Senator," 3P0 said as he shuffled into the room after her, but he stopped, emitting a startled yelp when he saw her guest's face. "Obi-Wan Kenobi!" he said in a voice high with panic, which wasn't unusual for the droid, but now, it seemed even more elevated than before. "I'll contact the authorities right away, Senator, I-" The voice trailed off, the high pitch lowering to a low whine as the lights of the droid's eyes flickered off as it powered down, and Padmé quickly looked back at the Sith Lord, the golden eyes fixed on the droid, one of his raised hands splayed in the chrome gold machine's direction.

Anger and panic gripped the Senator, her brown eyes narrowed, and she too late realized that her hands had dropped from her ears, balled into fists by her side, and she quickly moved to cover them again, but found her body didn't obey. She tried again, but the effort was futile. She watched helplessly as the blaster at her feet flew to Kenobi's hand.

"I don't need you to hear me for me to influence your thoughts, Padmé," Obi-Wan said softly, sadly, his hands lowering and a long finger tracing the barrel of the blaster. "But you have nothing to fear from me. I won't do it." Padmé watched in fear as the man drew carefully closer, and slowly, fear melted into pity when she saw how pale he was, how sunken his cheeks were, the deep, black rings under his eyes that drew attention to the eerie, alluring glow of his golden gaze. He looked... _haunted_ , as if he hadn't slept for months, thin like he hadn't been eating, pale like he hadn't been out, and Padmé's heart tugged with sympathy, the man before her violently clashing with the vibrant, healthy young Jedi she remembered him to be.

"Why are you here?" she demanded, and the corner of the man's mouth twitched.

"...to talk. Are you going to run if I let you go?"

"...no." Immediately, she felt her body relax, and she stumbled forward as the grip on her was released. She drew up to her full height as she looked at him, carefully observing and appraising, but he wasn't doing the same to her. He held the blaster in his hands, and he seemed to look through the weapon at the floor, his focus distant. His face expressionless. "You need to turn yourself in, Obi-Wan," she said as firmly as she could. "The Jedi are hunting you, and they're going to kill you. You're the most wanted man in the Republic!"

He scoffed under his breath. "More than Dooku? Why? I'm not leading a war effort."

"You've done _awful_ things," she stressed, taking a step closer to him, her hands raised up in front of her, eyes fixed on her blaster that lay in his hands. "So many are dead because of you."

"I've done nothing the Jedi haven't," he said softly, finally looking up at her, and she felt her heart ache as she looked into the eyes of the Sith, rich gold and pale yellow swirling together like storming clouds rimmed in blood red. She couldn't look away. It was _haunting_ , as if she were staring into eternity, a lifeless shell, a window open to a soul that simply wasn't there. But it was also beautiful, and she had never seen anything quite like them. Yes, she had seen them once on Mandalore during the peace talks, but they weren't like this then. The spark of life was still within him, and Padmé thought for a moment that imprisoning him was pointless. Prison had no cause to keep dead men. And besides, he was right. Both sides had committed atrocities. Nobody was innocent in this. Not the Republic, not the Separatists, not the Jedi, and not even herself. Then again...

" _You burned a planet_ ," she hissed, firmly holding his gaze, and she thought she saw a shiver run through him, and though his body was concealed through the thick, heavy cloak that surrounded him, she saw the sleeves that hung off his arms shake, saw the hands holding the blaster tighten and quiver with tension. "Billions of people, Obi-Wan, all burned to death! The Jedi have made you their top priority, Anakin's out there hunting you now! He's found your fleet above Oba Diah, did you plan on burning them too?!" Kenobi didn't move. He simply stood and stared, his face blank, a small twitch in the corner of his eye, and a moment later, Padmé's breath caught in her chest. "Wait..." she said softly. "You aren't supposed to be here..."

"Am I being blamed for those attacks as well?" He didn't speak loudly, but his words hit Padmé like a hammer. Anakin was on the trail of Obi-Wan, had found the Mandalorian fleet that had burned Ord Mantell as they were beginning to burn another planet, but...

But Kenobi wasn't there.

Was Anakin mistaken? Were the Jedi incorrect in their assumption that it was Obi-Wan that had sought revenge on the criminals that killed Satine and tore the Mandalorian Empire apart? After all, the _new_ Mand'alor _,_ fiery Bo-Katan Kryze, Satine's very own flesh and blood, had come to Coruscant specifically to state her intentions of war against the Shadow Collective, and said in no uncertain terms that anyone that stood in her path would be met with destruction. The Confederacy, it seemed, had received the same message, and _nobody_ objected to her war against the criminals that ran rampant throughout the galaxy. The Galactic Senate had even _endorsed_ her as the wounded party in the unprovoked attack on Mandalore, and lauded her efforts to clean up the galaxy of the criminal scum that plagued it.

Bo-Katan had the support of a man the Mandalorians were calling the Shadow King, a man Anakin had assumed to be Obi-Wan Kenobi, and the assumption was made in good reason. After all, the closest thing the Mandalorians had to a king was Obi-Wan, the man that stood by the side of their last Mand'alor, shared her bed, fathered her child, and as a Separatist, and therefore a political nightmare for Satine, had to stay hidden, a secret, though perhaps not a tightly guarded one. But Obi-Wan was _here_ , on Coruscant, while the Mandalorians burned Oba Diah, and nobody had seen Ord Mantell burn. Nobody had seen Kenobi's ships around the planet, or present in the Mandalorian fleet that the Jedi were currently pursuing. Was it possible that Obi-Wan was innocent? Could the Sith Lord have turned his grief inward, as his pale, gaunt face seemed to suggest? Had the Jedi blamed crimes on a man that was innocent with little more than a hunch? Had Anakin targeted a man that was drowning in grief over the death of his lover and their child?

Padmé trembled as a wave of nausea hit her. She didn't want to believe it, but Kenobi was _here_ , and Anakin had trained for years to kill him, and it was no secret that Skywalker was somewhat jealous of Obi-Wan. She tried not to think it, but for just a moment, the idea flashed in her mind that Anakin chose now to attack the Sith Lord because grief had brought him low. Because _now_ , without a lover, the Sith Lord was available. And it was no secret between them that she had lusted after him in the past.

"Yes," she choked. "The Jedi say you're the Shadow King that's leading the Mandalorians." Obi-Wan shivered, averted his eyes from her, and she instantly regretted saying anything.

"I haven't been to Mandalore since..." He choked, his already raw voice becoming further strained with tension, and slowly, he gripped the blaster by the barrel and held it out hilt first to the Senator. "I'm not turning myself in," he said softly, and Padmé reached out a shaking hand to take the blaster. When her fingers wrapped around the hilt, Kenobi released the weapon, his eyes downcast and his shoulders slumping.

"Maybe," Padmé said, stepping away from him, clutching the blaster to her chest, "that would be best."

"Why?" Kenobi whispered, looking back up at her again. "Is prison too good for me?"

"No," she chuckled. "I don't think it could hold you."

There was a soft smile on his lips, a look of near frantic desperation as his eyes dropped to stare at the blaster in her hands. "So what now, Padmé? I'm too dangerous to hold, am I not? Are you going to kill me?"

"No!" the Senator gasped quickly, flicking the safety back on and the weapon powered down with a low whine. She swiftly set it down on the nearest table. The Jedi hunted Obi-Wan, and it was beginning to look more and more like it was unjust. After all, Kenobi certainly _knew_ he was being hunted. He wasn't an idiot, and of all the places he could have gone, he came _here_. To the home of his enemy, despite the danger. To _her_. "No," she said again, drawing closer once again, close enough to see the red in his golden eyes. "You said you wanted to talk. Let's talk." She smiled at him gently when he looked at her once again, and she extended her hand. "Can I take your cloak?"

She watched as suspicion and uncertainly ran over him, the man slowly looking back at the door through which he entered, and when it looked as if he may leave, Padmé laid her hand on his arm, and he flinched, his whole body tense and tight as if simple contact were painful to him. He looked back at her as if he were assessing her intentions, and slowly, Kenobi laid his hand over hers, and Padmé felt her heart begin to pound. With a shaky hand, he removed his cloak, draping it over his arm, his fine black robes underneath so like Anakin's, yet so different. Anakin's had the modesty of a Jedi. Obi-Wan's were silken and tailored and bespoke of wealth and elegance, both things that appealed greatly to the young Senator. Slowly, she led him across the large room to the couch that sat in front of a large window, the city lights appearing hazy and shaded through the tint of the security shield that had been lowered over all the windows as a precaution against assassinations. Kenobi draped his cloak over the back of it, watched as Padmé sat, but would not sit himself. She wouldn't force him to.

"You know a great deal about the Jedi's campaign against me," Obi-Wan said softly, his eyes fixed out the window. "Does Skywalker tell you everything?"

"Most everything..." she muttered, suddenly feeling embarrassed and ashamed, but she didn't know why.

"One of the perks of having him as a lover, I assume?" A flash of anger ran through the girl, her body tensing as she became defensive, and Obi-Wan took a step back, eyes cast at the ground and hands held up before him. "I apologize, I meant no offense..." He took in a deep, shuddering breath when he felt her still tense, still angry, still uncertain. "I didn't read your mind, if that's what you're worried about. His relationship to you is no secret, and I can't use the Force here anyway, or the Jedi will find me."

"...we're engaged now," she said softly, and her heart nearly broke when she saw the man shiver, his eyes shut tight as tension wracked him, a soft, pained groan coming from deep within him as he struggled with... _something_. She couldn't tell what it was. It could have been _anything_. Perhaps it was remembrance of his own lost love, and she wondered if _they_ had been engaged as well. _Or_ , perhaps it was something else, and the thought of what it may be made Padmé bite her lip and look away from him. _Maybe_ , in his grief, he had sought out a woman that once, long ago, he had been close to, had an obvious attraction to. To talk. For comfort. In his need. She wasn't sure why, but she suddenly found herself thinking of Naboo, how close they had become, of Coruscant, how the lingering touches of the Jedi Knight burned on her skin hours after they had parted, of the countless sleepless nights she had spent moaning under her own touch while thoughts of him drifted through her hazy, lust-filled brain. And again, on Mandalore, when he had said he wanted her, reawakened her old wants and desires, and she found herself maddened by thoughts of him once again.

The same thing, she felt, was happening now. She bit her lip and thought of Anakin.

Another wave hit him, a wave of passion and confusion and conflict and lust, all things that rushed off the woman before him, and with the satisfaction, with the promise of his quickly approaching triumph becoming so, _so_ much sweeter by the second, the flames returned, and Obi-Wan could feel the insanity creeping back upon him. He shut his eyes tight, his body tight as he fought for control, and he had to bite down on his tongue to keep a manic laugh from tearing out of him. It was better than he ever could have imagined. _Engaged_! It was almost too much. To tear Anakin Skywalker not just from his lover, but from his _wife_ was a far sweeter victory than he could have imagined, but it was painful as well, and a searing pulse of grief ripped through him, just as it had when he went with Cody to defile Shaak Ti.

He had trouble then, his thoughts continuously drifting to his lost lover when the Jedi's tongue slowly ran over him, when he pressed deep inside her, each time threatening to tear him away from his task, from fulfilling his pleasures until the rage of it all came crashing down upon him, leaving him lost within himself as he roughly dominated that which was his. But with _Padmé_ , it would be easier. After all, his undeniable attraction to her had been her similarities to Satine. Closing his eyes and imagining his lover in his arms would be a simple thing, especially since the girl was already beginning to want as her thoughts wandered. It was true that he couldn't actively use the Force, but he suspected that there was a passive effect he had on the Dark Side, one that Padmé was responding to, even if subconsciously. It still had the desired effect. He wasn't influencing her. She was _choosing_ this. And that made it so much sweeter.

"I'm sorry..." Padmé said softly. "About Satine, she-"

" _Don't_ ," Obi-Wan snapped. He didn't mean to, but the pain was far too acute to handle while he wrestled for sanity. "Please don't, I-" He didn't get to finish. Padmé had reached out, grabbed his hand, and slowly, he opened his eyes and looked at her, big brown eyes filled with sympathy and concern, and she lightly tugged him closer. With a shuddering breath, Kenobi sat beside her, tightly grasping her hand in his, and Padmé _knew_ that the Jedi had mistakenly targeted him. There was no way he could be commanding the Mandalorians, not when he couldn't even talk about his lost love, not when he couldn't bear to even hear her name spoken. The pain was far too great. Obi-Wan was _broken_ , and he had come to her. She could help, she could fix him. After all, they had been friends once. She could be a friend to him again, just...not in the same way. She had Anakin now. _Anakin_ , not Obi-Wan.

"Let me help you," she said quickly, breathless, unaware of how her other hand had drifted to the Sith's thigh, her long fingers tracing long, light lines up and down the smooth feel of his pants. "Please, Obi-Wan, you must have come to me for a reason."

"...I did," Kenobi said softly. "We...used to be friends." His eyes met hers for a moment, and quickly averted when he found want there, not physical want, but a desire to help him. Despite their distance, despite everything that had happened with the war, with the Jedi, Padmé Amidala still held Obi-Wan in her heart, still thought of him on occasion, still held sympathy and respect for the friend she had lost, the lover that was never hers despite her wishes. "I find myself lacking for places I can turn these days. Before..." Kenobi choked on his words, swallowed, and began again. "Before, I had Satine. She was _always_ by my side through all of this, she helped make this mess bearable. You know I never wanted war, you know I strive for peace, and I have _tried_ , Padmé, but as this war becomes more vicious, it seems that it will only end when we destroy each other."

"I thought that peace was possible," the Senator whispered, drawing closer to the trembling man. "With what Mandalore was doing, it seemed possible. Systems were leaving all the time to join her Empire, I thought maybe one day, the Republic and the Confederacy would be too small to fight. That the other option was so much better that we would just...have peace." She sighed heavily. "I worked with her a few times. She was a good woman. She was lucky to have you." The gold eyes slowly drifted to her, searching, examining, and Padmé flushed deeply, suddenly noticing how far up the Sith's leg her hand was resting, and she quickly pulled it back. "I mean, _you_ were lucky to have _her_."

For a moment, the Senator thought she saw a small, faint smile tug on the edge of Kenobi's mouth. "Yes, I was...I loved her for a long time. Since I was quite young."

"...before I met you?" she asked tentatively, and she felt her heart ache when the man nodded.

"We were sixteen, and I _hated_ her. Until I loved her." Finally, a light, soft smile crossed his lips, and he reached up a shaking hand and held it to Padmé's burning cheek. "That was part of what drew me to you. You reminded me so much of her." Gold eyes ran over the Senator, looked through her as she trembled, and Kenobi felt her want to help become need for him, her mind struggling to get a firm grasp of the confusing, conflicting emotions she was feeling. Old memories, her lust for her first Jedi protector, her love for her second Jedi all clashed within her, and despite her struggle, Kenobi felt her shift closer as desire began to cloud her judgement.

"Me?" she squeaked. "I reminded you of _her_?" Kenobi trembled, a soft whimper escaping his lips, and she pressed closer, tearing her hand from his and laying one on his strong chest, the other on the sharp line of his jaw. She didn't love _him_ , she loved Anakin, but the man before her was grieving, was in desperate need of help, and she had always been willing to help him, always felt a pull of sympathy for her fallen Jedi Knight. She shook her head. _Not hers_. The entire war, he had been a grave danger to the Republic. When he wasn't attempting for peace.

Padmé grit her teeth, closed her eyes, turned her head from him. That was right, wasn't it? Kenobi had pressed for peace on more than one occasion, had killed people, yes, but far less than others. His involvement with Mandalore seemed to reenforce his deep desire for peace, for an end to the foolish conflict, just as Padmé had always wanted. But he was a threat to the _Jedi_. When they had attacked him first. The realization struck her suddenly, savagely, and it nearly knocked the air out of her lungs. It was possible that, perhaps, the _Jedi_ were the aggressors, just as they were now. After all, they had labeled Kenobi the Shadow King with no proof of it, had assumed Obi-Wan had burned Ord Mantell, though there was no evidence, just as they had assumed that he was currently burning Oba Diah when he was actually here, seeking help and comfort and _talk_ from his old friend. It hit her even harder when she realized that it wasn't the Jedi, but Anakin that was driving it, and in a heartbeat, she felt her temper rising the more she thought about how petty, how _childish_ this was beginning to look. Anakin had always been jealous of Obi-Wan. _Always_.

She took her hands off the Sith Lord and scooted away, her lip caught between her teeth and her hands clasped firmly in her lap. She loved Anakin. _She loved Anakin_. She didn't _love_ Obi-Wan. She just _wanted_ him.

"You did remind me of her," Kenobi whispered, looking back out the window, his eyes unfocused as he leaned back against the couch, his body relaxing as his mind drifted. "You still do. But at the time we met, I was committed to the Jedi. I pushed my love away, just as I was supposed to do. I could never have her, the Code wouldn't allow it, and nor did her position as the ruler of Mandalore allow her to love me, so..."

"So you left," the Senator finished, suddenly understanding. It made his attraction to her seem suddenly more appealing. After all, remembrance of Obi-Wan is what drove her to Anakin. They were similar in many ways. "On Mandalore..." she ventured carefully. "You said you wanted me." She shivered, nearly moaned when she felt her blood heat and run thick with arousal, the echo of his words softly sounding in her mind as she remembered what they had done to her, how three words uttered from a man that made her knees weak could make her mindless with lust for him. Perhaps he was influencing her even now, but there had always been the lingering doubt in her mind that it _hadn't_ been the work of the Sith Lord. That her aching want for him could be blamed on nobody but herself. She didn't _love_ Obi-Wan, not anymore, but she couldn't deny that she didn't desperately crave him either. Just as Obi-Wan didn't love her, but was still drawn to her. The why was unimportant. He was _here_.

"I did," he said softly, cautiously. "I meant it."

"You must have been with Satine at the time." He hissed, his entire body tensing, his gold eyes hard with sudden hurt and anger, but he quickly swallowed the rage.

"I was, yes..." Kenobi whispered, his voice quivering. "It was not the relationship we had...t-toward the end, but I did love her." He looked back at the Senator, her brown eyes hazy, her pupils dilated, her small hands shaking in her lap, and he knew it was over. What her mind wanted didn't matter, because the needs of her body were leaving her in a haze, but even then, even her mind was conflicted, torn between the man she loved and the man she had always craved. "I am Sith, Padmé. I embrace my passions, accept them, no matter what they may be. I am honest with myself. Can you say the same?"

Before she knew what she was doing, before she could stop herself, before her internal declarations of love for Anakin could stop her, she was straddling his lap, her frantic, shaking hands struggling to undo the belt that cinched his robes, her breath coming in fast, uneven pants. She loved Anakin, yes. But Anakin was so often gone, so often away, and her need was overwhelming, and it was _now_. Often, when he was away, she would tend to herself. She was a woman, after all, with a woman's needs, and her absent, conservative lover wasn't around enough to fulfil them. And now, in her apartment, on her couch, was the man she had lusted after for years, one that continued to haunt her even after all this time. She had so often found herself thinking of him, even long after she had stopped loving him, the carnal lust for a man she could never have gripping her and filling her with jealousy for the woman that _did_ get to have the handsome man in her bed.

"I've always wanted you," she hissed, a sharp gasp of satisfaction torn from her throat when she managed to undo the belt, and she pushed the black robes off his shoulders. "Especially after you said you wanted me, I..." She moaned, leaned her forehead against his chest and rocked her hips over his when a wave of arousal hit her. "I thought it was your fault," she panted. "I thought you did something to me, but I have _always_ wanted you."

He didn't say anything, and for a moment, Padmé thought she had overstepped her bounds, had trod in a place that was not meant for her, that it was far, _far_ too soon for him to take this step, for him to be with another woman when Satine was less than two months dead. But then, he laid a hand on her hip, the long fingers digging against her skin as she moved, and with a gasp of delight she bent to unfastening the buttons on his red trimmed black shirt.

"I wish you told me," Obi-Wan finally said, resting his palm on her flushed cheek. "If I knew when I was a Jedi, we could have done this _much_ sooner."

It was enough to break her. In an instant, all thoughts of Anakin, her soon to be husband, fled from her mind and was replaced with Obi-Wan and all the mindless lust he had inspired in her. She didn't know if this was his influence, or of it had come from herself, old love and breathless memories amplified by his presence and his vulnerability in his grief, but she didn't care. This was happening, and it was happening _now_ , the wrongness of it all only heightening her desire for him, just as the forbidden nature of her relationship with Anakin continued to be a source of excitement, even if it was an inconvenience. Her... _affair_ with Obi-Wan was doubly forbidden and had none of the frustrations that came from an established relationship. This was all forbidden lust, powerful and consuming and alluring, and she would be lying to herself if she said she wasn't excited and aroused by it, the culmination of years of fantasies ending now in consumation, provided nothing got in their way. With the lockdown of the district, she suspected that nothing would.

She tore his shirt off with a victorious cry, and she instantly stopped, her dilated brown eyes widening as she saw how thin he was, how paper-thin his skin looked over strong, corded muscles, how his pale skin was covered in deep, dark scars of old injuries, and raised, red welts that spidered across his skin like lightning, clearly much more recent. Her long, thin fingers traced the welts, the muscles tensing as she touched, the skin prickling in a trail of goosebumbs where she had touched the hairless chest. Anakin had battle scars too, but not nearly so bad, or nearly so many, and nobody had ever heard of the mighty Negotiator being seriously wounded, as these scars would suggest. It could only mean one thing. Kenobi had been tortured, in the past and recently, and Padmé felt a stab of pity within her, a deep sympathy for the man that made her want to take care of him and ease his suffering, and she knew that this would happen again. And again. And again. Someone had to love this tortured creature. She could do that. Even if she loved Anakin. Even _as_ she loved Anakin.

It had been almost too easy to get the Senator to this point, and Obi-Wan watched her as she pulled her dress over her head, frantically undressing as if it were suddenly far, _far_ too hot in the room. The biggest struggle had been for him to fight off the madness that threatened his mind with every step closer he came to plunging within Anakin Skywalker's willing fiancé. But as she worked, as she stripped herself bare, as she ran her hands over him and moaned wantonly, the thrill of having the man she had wanted for so long in her grasp, Obi-Wan felt the madness subside, the permeating grief that he had felt reducing to a dull throb as he watched. There was something calming in watching Padmé debase herself, her frantic hands running over him and exploring the body she had wanted for so long, her soft moans as she kissed his neck, his chest, the defined muscles of his stomach, lower when she slid her hand within his pants.

He couldn't help but wonder if the Force had been leading him here all along. His heart was with Satine, had _always_ been with Satine, and would always be until the very end of his days, but the Force had taken her from him, and Padmé's seduction was a touch too perfect, a bit too easy. Small things, things unintentionally done, had added up to this moment, making the Senator pliable when she would otherwise be stubborn, allowing her to forget love in favor of lust, leading her to take a lover when she was inclined to be faithful. It was almost as if the Force itself had guided them to this point, laid it out perfectly to give the Sith a swift, easy revenge against Anakin Skywalker. His Master had been right. The Force favored the Sith, was drawn to darkness, and now was actively allowing Kenobi to take what belonged to a Jedi. For a fleeting moment, he thought that perhaps, _just maybe_ , the child in his vision was _never_ born from Satine. After all, he had been destined to lose them both. However, he had a feeling deep within him that the child, the boy, _his son_ , may have been born from Padmé instead.

_Now_ , the challenge would be to _actually_ do it. He found himself distant as he watched her, the woman sliding between his legs and tearing off his boots as she pressed kisses to the inside of his thigh. Obi-Wan found himself more intellectually stimulated by the contemplation of the Force, the realization that his ally still stood beside him, than by the woman that was _physically_ stimulating him. Quinlan Vos would be _appalled_. The grief made it difficult, and the tight control on the Force, the threat of insanity looming over him made it impossible. He growled deeply, pulled the lustful woman up, drew her against him, and kissed at her neck as he laid her down, kicking his pants off as he used his knees to spread her legs, grabbing at the Dark Side to fuel his own passion, and it quickly responded to his call, quickening his blood with arousal. After what seemed like an eternity of torment and flames, the Force had given Obi-Wan a gift, and he wouldn't squander it. He closed his eyes, thought of Satine, and became one with Anakin Skywalker's lover.


	90. Gaining Ground

There was nothingness. For the first time in what seemed like forever, there were no dreams, no nightmares, no visions, no pain and fury of the Dark Side, no anguished cries of the Force. Not even the blaze of insanity could reach him. There was just darkness and nothingness, and save for the persistent throb of grief in his chest, Obi-Wan lay in the void, calm and peaceful and silent, and the pain he _did_ feel, the burning, lingering touches of his Mand'alor that he could feel even now upon his skin so long after she had died, were a dull ache instead of the searing agony he usually felt. He hadn't realized how weary he was, how strained his feverish mind had been, how exhausted his body was, how great the toll of insanity had been upon him until he lay there in peace and quiet that he hadn't felt in...ever, probably. He couldn't remember the last time sleep had been restful.

He was only stirred awake when he felt light touches of long, gentle fingers caress his face, his neck, his chest, his hips, his legs, all over him in touches that exuded want and love, and for a moment, in his sleep hazed mind, he thought he had Satine back in his arms, the past months of pain and fire and insanity simply a dream, a vivid, cruel trick of the Force. The thin body was pressed flush against him, movements slow and languid, though the intent of the woman was clear when he felt her knowing, practiced hands stroke him to arousal, the Dark Side rolling slow and thick within him to meet the woman's desires, not in a violent, crushing wave, but with a satisfied, sated groan of approval.

His alertness slowly returned to him as his blood moved to respond to the woman against him, though his mind stayed hazy and unfocused, still half asleep as he opened his eyes, the golden gaze slowly roving around a room he did not recognize, and he struggled to remember where he was. The woman's light touches became more insistent, her movements more fluid, the relaxed and flexible body in his grasp melting against him and memories of the night before slowly returned to him through his haze. It was all passion and maddening lust and loud, desperate moans and cries of pleasure. They were out of step, each used to the touch of another, and it had made them reach completion at different times, leaving the other still wanting and craving, which quickly whipped the sated partner back into the rushing frenzy of lust, and the process would begin again.

It had taken most of the night for them to finally fall in sync, the hours of mindless lust that proceeded dulling as they stirred again and again, leaving them hazy, yet more focused in the needs of the other instead of in their own needs. As they slowly figured each other out, their final joining, slow and languid through their tired, satisfied daze, left them focused not on the lovers they missed, but on the lover they were currently with. They had shuddered their peak together, their names on each others lips, and with their passion spent, they pressed close and let sleep take them instantly.

He was in Coruscant, in the luxurious room in 500 Republica, the daylight glinting off the buildings of the city outside, but the brightness of it was dulled by the tint of the security shield. He could hear the distant sounds of wailing sirens, but little else, and Kenobi assumed that the lock down was still in effect, the city no doubt still rushing in a panic to secure their prison and locate the ones that escaped. He wondered if Cad Bane had succeeded, but the deep satisfaction he felt within himself told him that he had no cause to doubt the bounty hunter. He had succeeded. There was no question.

The woman in his arms was not Satine, but Padmé Amidala, her dark hair mused and curled out behind her as she kissed and sucked on the pale flesh of his neck, her hands pulling a soft groan of desire out of him as they worked, and he held her closer, his long fingers running over the soft, smooth skin of her back, her thin waist, her rounded hip. He hadn't realized how desperate, how needy he had been for contact and comfort, how badly he had craved a soft, gentle touch. Since Satine, he had been met with nothing but the torture of his Master and the rough, dominating claws of the Dark Side because comfort through the Force had been _painful_. He welcomed the pain, of course, accepted the agony and suffering the Force and Sidious had inflicted upon him, but he was _Sith_ , a creature of passion, and passion wasn't only pain and hate and anger.

With a soft, tired whimper, Padmé rolled on top of her lover, her hands planted on his strong, defined stomach, and sighed in satisfaction as he slid inside her. They were both well past sated, their eyelids heavy, their minds hazy from the rush of the night before, so the pace was slow, relaxed, and nearly too intimate for Obi-Wan, but he kept a lazy, stroking hand on her thigh as she moved over him. With a deep, shuddering breath, Kenobi relaxed into the soft mattress and the large, fluffy pillows, observing the woman with interest as she took her pleasure from him. Her neck and shoulders were covered in red marks that he had left upon her the night before, her hips bore the clear, dark shadows of his hard grip upon them. They were dark already, and would be for days to come, and the origin of such bruises were unmistakable. Were Skywalker to come back, it wouldn't be difficult to discern what had happened. After all, when Kenobi came to her, her skin was pale and clear, and now the gentle curves of her body were stained with his touch. It was a masterpiece, not just in the look of his passions upon her, but in what they would bring to pass.

Padmé ran her hands up to his chest as she leaned forward, gasping softly as her hips increased the pace, and she ran her fingers over the thin red lines left by his Master's Force lightning the day before. They were no longer raised, angry welts, the rest giving his body a chance to recover from the injuries, the Force healing him as he slept. All in all, this affair had been good for him, and he wondered if tangling with Shaak Ti or any of the number of Twi'leks he kept would have the same effect, but he somehow doubted it. Padmé was... _unique_ , and the Force itself had given her to him. There must have been a reason for it, and whatever the reason was, he was certain that the healing of his broken mind was a part of it.

Their climax hit them together, not as a crashing wave, but as a soft, gentle caress of a slow moving river, the two lovers softly groaning their satisfaction as the dull throb of release flooded them with pleasure and warmth. When Kenobi felt the woman's body sag in relaxation, he brought her down to his chest, pulled the covers up over them, and rolled onto his side, clutching her tightly against him. A slight smile came to his lips when the woman's body shook with soft laughter, and he brushed back her hair and kissed her flushed cheek.

"Good morning..." Kenobi drawled, and Padmé looked over her shoulder to the table beside the bed and frowned when she saw the chronometer.

"Or afternoon, as it were. I _was_ awake earlier, but you wouldn't wake up. I've never seen anyone sleep so heavily." She smiled softly as she lay a hand on the Sith's cheek, her thumb dragging just under his eyes. "You _look_ so much healthier for it. You must have needed the sleep."

"I must have needed _something_ ," he said, covering his mouth as he yawned, closing his eyes and rubbing his temple when a dull throb began pounding in his head. His muscles were sore, his head hurt terribly, and there was a sharp pain in his stomach. He was _hungry_ , a sensation he hadn't felt for quite a long time. He closed his eyes and ran a hand through her long, curly dark hair, so different from the silken blond he was used to, but that difference made it easier. "Thank you..."

"You don't need to thank me," she muttered into his shoulder, and for the briefest moment, Kenobi felt... _something_. A sharp pull within her that screamed out for the man she loved, the Jedi she had just been unfaithful to, and then there was silence, calm and quiet contentment in the arms of the Sith, but Obi-Wan knew he felt _something_. He hadn't been influencing her, not intentionally, though he knew that Dark Side must have had a hand in what happened here since last night. He may not have had to use any sort of compulsion to achieve this end, but she had been primed, made ready for this, and it wasn't entirely by him. Something, or _someone_ , had a hand in Padmé Amidala. Slowly, carefully, with a hand in her hair, he quietly slipped into her mind, looking for any sign of tampering, but he found very little. Just old memories dragged to the surface by his presence, which accounted for her blistering need.

But there was _something_ , unidentifiable, but certainly present like a long, faint shadow cast by her hazy mind. It felt like the touch of the Dark Side, and it wasn't his own. Only one other could have done this, been so subtle that even he couldn't detect it, but Obi-Wan didn't know what use Sidious had for Padmé. She was a nuisance to him, yes, and perhaps the feverish lust for the Sith Master's apprentice distracted her, but it wasn't enough. It had _never_ been enough, which was why Sidious had attempted to have her executed, an event that eventually led to the start of the Clone Wars, and it was part of the reason the Kenobi was here now. He was here to ruin Anakin Skywalker, but Sidious had made it clear that they could kill two birds with one stone if they were careful, and the Master's investment in this was to ruin Senator Amidala.

That may have been it, but Kenobi knew that his Master was too smart, too manipulative, to leave it at that. Killing her would have been easiest, and if he simply needed her out of the way, he would have commanded Kenobi to execute the woman, which he would have carried out without a moment's hesitation. But that wasn't what had happened. He had stated his intentions to take the woman from Anakin Skywalker, and Sidious had allowed him to carry it out. Perhaps the Master was seeking to make another apprentice, as he had sought to use Satine to make one. Perhaps the child in the dream was, in fact, born from Padmé, and Sidious now sent his apprentice to bring that about. Obi-Wan had to believe this was the case, had to believe that the child was Padmé's, because if it wasn't, if it was Satine's, and the vision was simply a cruel reminder of the son he had lost, his mind would have truly broken, and he'd be cast into a state of insanity from which he could not return. Even now, at the thought of this being the case, he could feel his vision blur as flames licked at the edges of his sight.

"Being with you isn't like being with Anakin," she said softly, and the Sith Lord groaned as his sore muscles tensed. "Being with you isn't like being with _anybody_."

Kenobi scoffed. "Have you been with many?"

" _Well_ , not many," she said softly. "Two before Anakin. And Anakin is..." The Senator sighed wistfully, and Kenobi could feel the longing in her voice, and it made his own chest burn for the one he loved. "Anakin is careful and gentle and loving. He's not supposed to have what we do..." She closed her eyes, her hands running over her lover's visible ribs. "Did you have other lovers?" she asked, quickly changing the subject. Making herself think about Anakin was making her feel suddenly guilty. She knew this was wrong, she _knew_ , and she felt awful for this betrayal, but...

But she found she didn't regret it, and she couldn't imagine why she didn't. It was like all her moral values had been repressed, like she had been driven mad with desire like she had been before by thoughts of Kenobi. After all, she had loved him once, and for a very long time. But that was before Anakin, and even then, she had thought about her first protector from time to time. Having him available and just within her reach was what she had fantasied about for _years_ , and the temptation had proven to be too much for her. This couldn't happen again...

"There was only Satine," Kenobi said softly, his voice distant and almost nostalgic. "Except for once on an extended mission, but I don't remember it, so it doesn't count. And after..." He hissed, let go of the woman and sat up, looking out the window at Coruscant. He could see no ships flying through the tint of the security shield. The lock down was still in place. "After she died, I had another, but she meant nothing to me."

"Do I?" Padmé asked swiftly, and she winced, mentally kicking herself for being so foolish. She _didn't_ love Obi-Wan. She wouldn't love him. She loved Anakin, and Obi-Wan clearly loved Satine, so...what were they even doing here?

"You've always meant something to me..." Kenobi said absently, and Padmé knew he meant it. He looked back at her, gold eyes pained, and gently laid a hand over hers. "I know you love Skywalker, and I will _always_ love Satine. There would never be a future for us beyond just this, but...I should like to see you again."

She tried to answer, but found she could not. So much of her screamed against this. She loved a Jedi Knight, was going to marry him, would have his children, if it was possible. But the first plunge had been the hardest one, and on reflection, she had _so_ easily fallen into bed with Obi-Wan, like she had once so easily fallen into bed with Anakin, and then, like now, they had all suspected it to be the influence of the Sith. And Obi-Wan was a known mind manipulator. Though, she suspected that even without his prodigious powers, he would have been able to seduce her. And despite her denial, Obi-Wan had filled a need within her that she didn't know was being left unsatisfied. She didn't love him. But she was having difficulty turning away.

"You're controlling me..." she whispered, her hands gripping the sheets to hide how badly they were shaking.

"...no," Kenobi said softly. "I don't have to control you. You already want me."

"But _why_ ," she hissed, her chest tightening in sudden panic. "I have everything I want with Anakin!"

" _Everything_?" Kenobi laughed harshly. "What does a Jedi know of passion? They are taught to put their feelings away, and while Skywalker may be something of a failure in that respect, he is _still_ a Jedi, and an unfortunately effective one. _I_ was trained to embrace my passions," he drawled, tapping the back of her hand with his fingers as he carefully appraised her confusion, the torrent of emotions within her, her love for Skywalker and her old lust for Kenobi clashing almost violently within her. It was a mess, chaos at its finest, and it was _perfection_. "But what I want doesn't matter," he said quickly, brushing off the matter. "What matters is what you want, and I'm not sure you've figured that out yet."

"I want Anakin," she said swiftly. "I won't leave him. I-" A long finger pressed itself against her lips and she fell silent.

"It won't be safe for me to leave during the lock down," Kenobi said slowly. "So we have _lots_ of time to discuss it." Despite her better judgement and her internal protests, she found herself nodding in agreement with the Sith Lord, and Obi-Wan smirked when he felt the Dark Side move, slow, subtle, with great purpose, commanded by a hand that was not his own.

* * *

 

The only members of the Council physically present were Yoda, Mace Windu Qui-Gon Jinn, and Luminara Unduli. Saesee Tiin also sat in attendance, his head bowed, his eyes focused at the floor and sitting _very_ close to the Grandmaster. He had been under careful observation since he had returned from the Sith's grasp, and while he had passed every test given to him, the Iktotchi personally requested to be kept under observation. All the other Masters sat in from their places in the war via hologram, including Anakin Skywalker, who stood quiet and pensive in the middle of the room next to a frantic Ahsoka Tano. The Padawan was fidgeting and nervous, her eyes constantly darting to Asajj Ventress, who stood almost glued to the wall closest to the door.

Everything was coming undone, and it was happening all at once. While the Republic continued to win conflicts in the war, reclaim planets and systems that had once defected to Mandalore, the concentrated Jedi effort against the Sith was proving disastrous. A system had burned, the Jedi Master sent to kill Dooku had been captured, and the most secure prison in the Republic had been broken into, and the two Separatist leaders being held there had escaped, despite all efforts to contain them. But even that wasn't the worst of it. The highly explosive rescue of Wat Tambor and Poggle the Lesser had been revealed to simply be a diversion, for while all Republic efforts had been concentrated on keeping the Separatists contained, others had managed to quietly slip deep inside the prison's block for inmates awaiting execution and extracted Barriss Offee.

The Sith involvement was clear, and while Luminara did a fine job of keeping it together, the Mirialan Master was clearly disturbed that another potential Sith had been released into the galaxy, and it was one that she had trained herself. Qui-Gon sat with her hand grasped tightly in his own, his thumb almost lovingly stroking her smooth, green skin. He had known the pain of what it was to lose a Padawan to the Dark Side, and while Luminara had let Barriss go, had resigned herself to the young murderer's execution, she was not prepared for the girl's escape, the Sith threat looming dark overhead with the promise of another agent of the Dark Side added to Dooku and Kenobi's strength. That wasn't the worst of it, though. Barriss was simply a Padawan. A skilled one, yes, but any Master could easily handle the girl, even with the Dark Side fueling her strength.

The problem was that Ahsoka had frantically reported seeing Pong Krell on Serenno, very, _very_ much alive and serving as the new apprentice to Dooku. Krell was a _Master_ , and a shockingly dangerous one at that. Four arms expertly wielded two double sided lightsabers at once, and for even the best of Jedi, that made for a formidable opponent, but coupling that strength with the might of the Dark Side was doing nothing for the shattered Jedi confidence. Tano had seemed almost nonchalant when discussing him, though, and insisted that Krell, while intimidating, wasn't the major problem. After all, she and her Master had left him defeated, though the fight had not been easy, and Ahsoka had disabled the Besalisk herself. The problem, though...

Qui-Gon's eyes drifted to the empty seat on his right. Quinlan Vos, Master, tracker, unconventional rogue, had been captured. Not killed, _captured_ , and by Kenobi no less. To say the least, it didn't bode well. Vos had always drifted close to the dark, and he and Obi-Wan had been _very_ good friends. Qui-Gon knew why Kenobi hadn't tried to kill his old Jedi Master, despite the rift, despite the betrayals. He couldn't be killed, not exactly, and the Sith Lord didn't understand, _couldn't_ understand, and so recoiled from the prospect. But Kenobi hadn't killed Vos either, though for entirely different reasons, and Qui-Gon suspected he knew exactly what those reasons were. A rescue attempt like the one Ahsoka and Ventress had proposed wasn't just madness, it seemed like an impossibility, especially since Qui-Gon suspected that by the time they got there, Quinlan wouldn't _want_ to be rescued.

"You want to _abandon_ him?!" Ahsoka gasped, her mouth agape and staring in disbelief when Qui-Gon voiced his opinion. The members of the Council did the same. No surprise there.

"Master Vos is a valuable asset!" Mace said firmly, and Qui-Gon rolled his eyes and regretted saying anything. "And he isn't a Padawan that needs to be supervised, he is a _Jedi Master_. We do him a disservice in thinking him so weak-willed that he'd abandon his course. He walks close to the Dark Side, yes, but he _hates_ the Sith."

"Yes, but he loves Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said tiredly. He wasn't in the mood to argue with Mace Windu. _Again_. "They were like brothers before. We cannot assume they will not become so again."

"Could Master Vos pull Kenobi back to the light?" Plo Koon asked, and Saesee Tiin laughed harshly.

"There is no return to the light for Kenobi," the Iktotchi snarled. "If you've seen what I have seen, you'd know that. I agree with Master Jinn. Vos is finished. Let him go."

Ahsoka reeled on the Master, her face dark and her blue eyes furious. " _You_ didn't break!" she shouted at Tiin. "Everyone agrees that you're _fine_ , and Master Quinlan is fine too! I know he is, I can _feel it_!"

"I didn't say we should let him go," Qui-Go said quickly when he felt Saesee's own considerable anger rising. "The point of this all is that we _don't know_ what has happened to him, and we should. For all we know, he could be dead, but I think it's unwise to speculate until we know something for certain."

"Well, how's this for certain," Ahsoka growled. "The Sith have him, and we _have_ to go after him! He isn't dead, and if he's fallen, we can bring him back! _I_ can bring him back!" She pointed a shaking finger at Ventress. " _She_ can bring him back!" The Masters slowly looked over to Ventress, the woman standing with her head bowed, her body tense as if she were straining to keep herself from bolting out of the room. Realization struck the Jedi hard, but Anakin looked at her with sympathy and understanding. All the pieces fit. There was only one explanation.

"You were lovers," the Knight said, and Ventress closed her cold blue eyes.

"...yes." The Masters didn't exactly appear shocked by the revelation.

"Did you teach him the ways of the Dark Side?" Windu asked, and Ventress scoffed, looking up at the Masters. She felt that they sat in judgement of her. It was foolish to come here. She shouldn't have capitulated to the whims of the Padawan. The Jedi would be no help here, even if they dedicated their numbers to Vos' rescue.

"Not exactly," she said, crossing her arms over her chest. "He had dabbled in the Dark Side before I got to him. He had...previous instruction."

Luminara sucked in a sharp breath, her hand tightening in Qui-Gon's. " _Kenobi_."

"Yes." Ventress slowly walked to stand beside Ahsoka. "I taught him control. I taught him how to keep himself from being consumed. We both knew what Kenobi wanted from him, and Vos wanted that power so he could kill Dooku and end the war." She glared pointedly at Windu. "But he _also_ didn't want to fall. He wanted to learn control, because he could feel it eating away at him. I taught him what I know."

"You thought you could _control the Dark Side_?!" Windu shouted, but Ventress just glared at him.

"Kenobi says _you_ learned how to harness it, Windu," Ventress growled. "Don't you _dare_ lecture me. The Dark Side doesn't belong to the Sith. Someone strong and clever can learn to harness that power and use it to accomplish something _good_ , like Quinlan was doing! And let's not forget that the _Jedi_ gave him the mission to assassinate Dooku! I was only teaching him how best to succeed in the only way I knew how!"

"My Master is strong," Tano said softly. "And the Sith have nothing he wants. He won't fall. We need to save him."

Windu steepled his fingers together and observed the Padawan, the former Sith assassin, the angry Saesee Tiin, the quiet Qui-Gon, the sympathetic Anakin. The situation was difficult, especially in consideration of how many Masters had been killed by the Sith Lord that held Vos. Sending more Jedi, this time right into the heart of the Sith's home, especially when they did not know his strength or the status of the missing Master, would only result in the capture or death of more Jedi. They needed something else. They needed...

"Ventress," Windu said. "You said you have a plan, is that correct?"

"I do," she nodded. "I have a team of the best bounty hunters I know ready and assembled for immediate departure."

"Would a Jedi presence help?"

Ventress shrugged. "As a distraction, perhaps. But I think you'll just get in the way." When the Jedi Master arched his eyebrow at her, Ventress rolled her eyes. "The plan was to get in and out as quickly as possible. There is no _quick_ involved if the Sith are drawn out to deal with the problem, and Jedi _will_ draw the Sith out."

"Long enough for you to rescue Master Vos?" Mace asked, and Ventress snorted in repressed laughter.

"Long enough to get your Jedi killed and prompt a sweep of the palace." She shrugged. "But sure, if you throw enough Jedi at Kenobi, I'm certain he will be occupied long enough to get Vos out. He _does_ like playing with his food."

"Ventress," Ahsoka pleaded. "A Jedi Master on our side could really help."

"Two leaders of the Separatists and a fallen Jedi awaiting execution have just been removed from custody, and all the Jedi on Coruscant could do _nothing_ to stop it. I'm not exactly brimming with confidence in the Order." Ventress shrugged. "Besides, the team I have assembled is _very_ good, and the Sith are cocky. I don't think they'll deploy anything more than droids to deal with bounty hunters, but if there are Jedi with us, it changes things."

"Won't the Sith be able to sense you and Ahsoka?" Plo Koon asked, and the Nightsister frowned.

"Perhaps...but the more Force sensitive beings there are with us, the easier we will be to sense."

"Do you even know where to look?" Anakin asked, and Ahsoka smiled up at him.

"We think so. Ventress says he's likely on Serenno." Anakin was silent for a moment, biting his lip as if he were debating on what he should or should not say, and finally nodded.

"Tarkin thinks Kenobi has a base on Mustafar." There was a sudden look of shock on Ventress' face that said everything Anakin needed to know. "So it _is_ there." He frowned. "Ventress, it's time to come clean. You have information we need, and that Sith bastard has now taken your lover from you. If I were you, I'd be out looking for all the revenge I could get."

"Anakin..." Mace warned, but the knight would have none of it.

"No, I mean it. Kenobi is a man on his last leg. He's got nothing left to lose, and he's taking as much of the galaxy as he can down with him. He's already burned one system. How many more need to die before we do what must be done? Sometimes, Masters, the Code gets in the way of the mission. Our rules are hurting us because we're playing with a man that adheres to no rules."

"If we abandon the Code, Skywalker, we're no better than the Sith," Luminara said, her voice stern and hard, and Anakin bowed his head to the woman.

"With all due respect, Master Unduli, but if we lose, there will be nothing _but_ Sith. The Code isn't wrong, but it has no place in this war." He smiled softly at Ahsoka. "Snips, I'd go with you, but if I leave now, everyone on Oba Diah will die. It isn't a battle down here, it's a rout. The Mandalorians are executing everyone in sight."

"But they aren't burning the planet?" Qui-Gon asked, and Anakin shook his head.

"No, but they started to. We are managing to stop the fires, but the Chancellor said we aren't to engage the Mandalorians, so there's nothing we can do. Tarkin and I have been hunting Kenobi down here, but so far, we've had no luck. We're on the trail, though."

"You know he's down there?" Mace asked, leaning forward and staring intently at Skywalker.

"The Mandalorians have been rallying behind the Shadow King and Bo-Katan, and Tarkin and I have found _hundreds_ of bodies that have clearly met a lightsaber. I sense a strong disturbance in the Force. He's here."

Qui-Gon slowly sat up straight in his seat, his breath caught in his chest and he gripped Luminara's hand tighter. "Anakin," he said softly. "We haven't been able to sense him before. Are you _sure_ you're sensing him?"

"I..." The Knight stuttered and looked down at the ground, his mind racing. "I-I think so, Master. This isn't the work of his clone commander. We know he wields a lightsaber, but the bodies we found were heavily armed. The blade would have had to be in the hands of a Force sensitive." He looked at his former Master. "You don't think its him."

"I think," Qui-Gon began quietly, "that an ostentatious rescue of Wat Tambor and Poggle the Lesser was staged in order to quietly bring Barriss Offee to the Sith. We know Kenobi is a fan of diversions, and there is _nothing_ that draws more attention than the burning of billions of people. Burning planets may simply be a means to cover his actual objective."

The words rang true to Anakin. Kenobi wasn't there. He didn't know _where_ the elusive Sith Lord may be, but a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach told Anakin that something was very, _very_ wrong. Kenobi _was_ the Shadow King of Mandalore, and the Mandalorians were absolutely working with him to complete his revenge, but exactly who was the mad Sith Lord seeking revenge against? He didn't know, an that was the trouble.

"If we're going to catch him, we need to flush him out," Anakin said softly. "Unfortunately, he's got an entire galaxy to run around in. We know his ships, but we don't know his home." He looked pointedly at Ventress. "We _need_ to know about Mustafar. Tarkin thinks it's too dangerous to attack him there, but it looks like we're running out of options."

Ventress was quiet for a moment, looked at the holographic Masters that had assembled, at the hopeful face of Ahsoka, and she closed her eyes and thought of Vos, thought of how coldly Kenobi had ordered her execution. "Getting into Mustafar isn't a problem," she said softly. "But once you are in, you will _never_ get out. Kenobi built his palace to be a trap, a prison to house the Jedi he captures."

"I was held there," Saesee softly droned, his voice far away, his eyes shut tight against the memories of his capture and his torture. "I never saw his palace, but his _dungeons_..."

"So we destroy it from the air," Anakin insisted. If we fly low enough-"

"You won't get close enough to do it," Ventress said, her voice tight with irritation. "It used to be a Black Sun fortress, the palace is heavily defended. And..." She breathed deeply, she lungs shuddering as she did so. "There are _civilians_ in there. Hundreds of them. Twi'leks from Ryloth and Korun from Haruun Kal, and others from a dozen different worlds." Anakin and Mace Windu stared at the woman, their jaws slack, their hearts pounding in their chests. Across the course of the war, there have been _many_ towns and villages that they have found abandoned, with no sign of the people, living or dead, and no indication that they had been evacuated. The people had never been found, and now they knew why. Kenobi had them. What's more, the Korun were Master Windu's people. The fight was personal before, but now it was dangerously close to the Master.

"Well," Anakin whispered, " _shit_."

"And you won't get close enough to Serenno with a fleet big enough to destroy it," Ventress said. "Dooku spared no expense on the defense of the palace, which is why a small strike team is our only option. We come in with the ships that are scheduled for the palace's deliveries. It should conceal us enough to give this a fair shot." Her fists tightened under the gaze of the Masters. She didn't like being here. "Both palaces are opulent and extravagant, but Serenno is more livable based on location alone, and since it is easier to defend, _that's_ where Vos will be."

"Masters," Anakin said after an uncomfortable silence, "I have an idea. We need to flush Kenobi out, and we need to do it now. Tarkin has outlined a list of planets that the Mandalorians are sure to attack in their quest for revenge, and he _will_ be with them at some point, even if he isn't with them now. My fleet and the Masters you gave me to carry my mission out have those all covered. Soon enough, he will have to return home, and now we know where that is." He took a deep breath and looked at Yoda. "The noose is tightening. If we remain aggressive and relentless, if we don't fall for anymore of his attempts to tear us apart, than we'll have him, and soon. Tarkin is a hunter, and I'm ready to face him."

Yoda stared at Anakin, his brow furrowing in his focus, and he nodded. "Continue your mission, you will, Skywalker. Do what you must. Padawan Tano." The Togruta looked up, her heart beating fast in her chest. "Permission, you have, to find your Master. With Ventress, you will go. Find the truth, you will, and return to the Council with it."

Ahsoka felt her heart sink, and sudden doubt in the Council began to worm its way into her. " _Without_ any Jedi?" she asked, and Yoda frowned deeply, clearly conflicted about the decision.

"Correct, Ventress is," he finally said. "If Jedi we send, lose them, we will. A trap, this may be, and dead, Master Vos may be, or worse." His three-fingered hands gripped the knobby end of his stick as he emitted a groan of frustration. "Barriss Offee. Pong Krell. Count Dooku. Obi-Wan Kenobi. Sith are they, and with them, Quinlan Vos may stand. All on Serenno, they may be. Dangerous, this rescue is."

"Then send a Master!" Ahsoka shouted, gesturing wildly to the seated members of the Council. "Send _all_ of them! Let this be their last stand, if they are all in one place, we can kill them all!"

"This is likely a trap, Padawan," Mace said softly. "What's more, we don't know _anything_ about the situation. We don't know of Vos is even there, we don't know if he's being tortured, if he's given in to the Dark Side, if he's even alive. And we _should_ know these things. We need to know these things before we rush in."

"So...you're sending me into a trap?" Ahsoka said bitterly, and the Masters looked at her sadly.

"That isn't it, Snips," Anakin said kindly. "You would be going anyway, right?" The Togruta nodded slowly. "And you know as well as I do that this sort of mission is _exactly_ what you're best at. Sneaking around and collecting information is sort of what you and Quinlan do."

"Do you not trust your companion in this?" Mace asked softly, and Ahsoka looked over her shoulder at Ventress, a cold, hard look in the Nightsister's eyes. With a deep breath, she turned and looked at Master Windu.

"I trust her with my life. We won't fail, Masters."

Yoda closed his eyes, his brow wrinkling with something unseen, something deeply felt by only him. "May the Force be with you, Padawan Tano," he quietly rasped, and the Togruta bounded out the door, the solemn, silent Nightsister on her heels.


	91. Vos

Quinlan Vos was _bored_. True, the day had just started for him, but he was already feeling the restlessness of boredom settle in, like it always used to when he returned to the Jedi Temple after a long mission. He never wanted to go back, even though when he _did_ arrive, he always felt at home. The Temple had been home, yes, but after returning, it only took a few days at most for him to want to be out once again. In the Temple, he had hundreds of brothers and sisters, many of which he still loved deeply, many of who had been senselessly killed in the war, many who would still yet die as the war continued, as he knew it would. He narrowed his eyes, stained yellow and red with anger and hatred born from the Dark Side, born from _betrayal_ , and he glared at Count Dooku, the man he had sworn to kill. His fist tightened around the knife in his right hand.

"Don't even think about it, Vos," Dooku drawled lazily, not looking up from the datapad he had propped up next to his place at the head of the table, a fork poised in his hand with a chunk of rich gold fruit speared on to the end. Quinlan glowered, snatched a freshly baked roll from the serving dish nearest him, and shoved it into his mouth, chewing slowly, bitterly as he did, in fact, think about it. The flaky, buttery crust of the bread melted his anger away into a satisfied compliance.

His life in the Jedi Temple, life with a hundred brothers and sisters, life as a Jedi Master, was over. He had a new life now. A richer one, a life of luxury and opulence, a life where overindulgence in drink and women was not only allowed, but accepted. A life dedicated to hedonistic pleasure, consistent and unrelenting, in an attempt to drown out the pain and hatred and anger of bitterness and betrayal. A life motivated by _revenge_ , satisfied only by thoughts of blood and murder, which had been hard at first, but now was so very, very easy. Helping Kenobi execute the savages that murdered Satine was making him strong, and with strength came a ruthlessness that he hadn't known as a Jedi.

His first day as a Sith, or prospective Sith, he supposed, he was taken back to Obi-Wan's home, his _palace_ , a grand estate truly befitting a man that was called Lord, imposing, intimidating, elegant and _beautiful_ on fiery Mustafar, so much like the man it belonged to. They hadn't talked much on the way there. His Sith Master had spent the time in deep meditation, and Quinlan watched _fascinated_ as his friend's body was wracked with convulsions and spasms and muttering under his breath in a language Quinlan didn't understand. He could feel the Force whipping around him, all fire and heat and rage, pulsing in time with Kenobi's heart, ebbing and flowing with each breath the Sith Lord took, and it was magnificent. Quinlan understood then whet Kenobi had been saying for so long. The Force and he were one, and the Force was stained with darkness.

They didn't talk much when they reached the palace either, but that was mostly Quinlan's fault, though he suspected that the Sith Lord would rather not have spoken at all. He _hadn't_ been speaking anyway, didn't respond to his name, and recognition only barely registered on his face when Quinlan had called him Lord or Master or Lumis, as Dooku had done. It didn't matter anyway, because when they entered the majestic halls of the Palace of Mustafar, Quinlan was met by _women_. Hundreds of them. His mouth agape, he silently followed the Sith Lord through them all, his clone Cody explaining where they came from, how they were captured, how they willingly served the needs of anyone worthy of them. Twi'leks from Ryloth, Togrutas given in tribute to the Sith by the slavers of Zygerria, dark skinned, Force sensitive Korun from Haruun Kal, Nautolans captured from Glee Anselm, and he even spotted a few long-necked Kaminoans in the group, among several other species, some which he recognized, others which he did not, but they were all appealing, all beautiful, and all scantily clad. When he spotted a small group of the females servicing a large, brutal-looking Twi'lek male, he asked his leave of his friend and immediately set to having his fill of whatever he wanted. It so happened that simply being in the presence of the Lord of the Sith was enough to incite the lusts of the woman.

Within moments, he found himself surrounded by a green-skinned Mirialan, a red-skinned Zeltron, a royal blue Twi'lek, and the rest of his evening continued in a mindless haze as he met his pleasure with one woman after the other. Once, he had to fight off one of the monestrous male Twi'leks, the savage creature growling and cursing when Quinlan had reached out to stroke the lekku of a slight Togruta he was with, and Vos harnessed the Dark Side with such force, such rage that the other male was left cowering, scampering off shaking and frightened when the Kiffar established his dominion. It didn't take long for the women servicing him and serving him drink after drink to get him titanically drunk off the rich, fine liquor and the thick, heavy lust that rushed through him. It was almost enough for him to forget the Padawan he had left behind, the beautiful lover he had treasured so dearly, and the betrayal he had suffered at her murderous hands. _Almost_. But not quite.

He didn't see Kenobi long the next day either. Just long enough for the Sith Lord to tell him what was required of his apprentice while he was off on Coruscant ruining lives. Quinlan didn't argue. After all, the grief, the obvious hunger, the weariness, the obvious insanity was all clear to see in Obi-Wan, and Vos had already committed himself to his brother, his friend, and now, his Sith Master. He could help him. They could help each other. Together, they would seek revenge on those that wronged them. _All of them_. They shared enemies, one goal, one vision, and together, they would bring peace to their consumed minds. The madness would ease with each death, each execution, each murder, until it was nothing at all. Death would heal them. Revenge would save them. Quinlan _knew_ this to be the truth.

And so he eagerly followed Cody, the two of them equipping Mandalorian armor and making the trip to meet with Bo-Katan on Concord Dawn, where her army was marshaling its strength in preparation for the impending attack on Oba Diah. Quinlan was sent to stand in for Kenobi, the agent of his revenge upon the Pykes, and Vos wouldn't fail him, not in this. This wasn't just his first mission as apprentice to the Sith Lord, but this was his promise to his friend, his brother in betrayal and loss. The Pykes needed to die. All of them, and if burning the planet was what it would take to accomplish it, than Quinlan would strike the match and watch it burn.

It didn't come to that, but it would have, the firebombing of the Pyke Headquarters well underway when the Jedi showed up, not to stop the Mandalorians, but under the banner of protecting the innocent of the city while Bo-Katan destroyed the criminal syndicate. The move was both clever and infuriating, and with Kenobi's insistence that the Mandalorians not wake the wrath of the Republic, they were forced to stop setting fire to the planet, and bring the might of their army to the ground. With the destruction of the space ports, there was no hope for escape, and in the off chance that a ship _did_ manage to leave the ground, the fleet surrounding the planet was ready to destroy them. They would all be destroyed. _All of them_.

With the Mandalorian helmet secured over his head, Quinlan was only distinguishable by the lightsaber he held, not his own, which had been lost on Raxus, but his Master Tholm's, the blade in his hand heavy with the weight of the betrayal he felt, the painful history of the saber only fueling his rage, his hate, his power as he cut through the Pykes that fought. It was war, like any other, and Quinlan had shown that he excelled at war. As the battle raged, as it became more and more obvious that everyone was going to die, the criminals began trying to surrender, beg for mercy, but there was none left in the fallen Jedi. These were the scum that waylaid Mandalore and killed Satine and her child. They all deserved to die. Slowly, the kills in battle became executions as the enemy dropped their weapons in surrender, and the executions became murders when they had stormed the buildings and houses and rooted out the families, the woman, the children that huddled afraid inside. Each kill had been easier than the last, each execution fueling his hate, the death and the blood and the screams making his body rush with the power, the _triumph_ of the Dark Side, and by the time he entered the city, Vos didn't think twice about the murders he committed. They were guilty, like all the rest of them, or they wouldn't inhabit this crime-infested world.

When Bo-Katan had called, Vos went running to her, and she had declared his task complete. The Mandalorians would handle the rest, and he and Cody were to return to Serenno on orders of the Sith. The command was quickly obeyed, and the two were off to Serenno to wait for Obi-Wan. The night of their return found both fallen Jedi and traitor clone drinking heavily and sharing war stories and, much to Dooku's dismay, sinking themselves deep inside two servant girls that staffed Serenno's palace.

Which is where he woke up, groggy and hung over and close to noon with a nervous woman in his bed, anxious because she was late to report in to her duties, and the Count was _strict_. He had grabbed her and dragged her down, expending himself inside her once more as he used the Force to clear the alcohol out of his system, and when he was done, he slid out of bed, dressed, and went to see if there was food anywhere.

There was, and quite a lot of it, all spread out on the long dining table as it had been the day he first arrived. The day he fell. The day Obi-Wan showed him the truth. He had realized, upon reflection, that it was the same room, nearly the same _place_ where Obi-Wan had once knelt before the Lord of the Sith and pledged himself to the Dark Side so many years ago. Only unlike the day he knelt before Kenobi, today, there were others in the room, all seated at the table and eating the rich spread with varrying levels of enthusiasm. Pong Krell had his plate stacked high with an assortment of breads and meats, two of his four arms reaching out to grab more while the others shoveled food into his mouth, the large creature obviously famished, and Quinlan wondered if he had been deprived for his failure of killing Ventress. Vos was secretly happy that he had failed. He wanted to kill darling Asajj himself.

But most interesting, the thing that held the promise of making the day _not_ boring, was the presence of Barriss Offee, Luminara's fallen Padawan. She was seated as far away from the others as she could be, two seats over from the head of the table that remained vacant, with only Cody nearby, the lone member of the group that didn't have the ability to feel the Force separating himself from the Sith. Barriss had glanced up at him once when he had entered the room, but quickly averted her eyes, and since Quinlan had plunked down in the seat opposite her, she hadn't looked up again, and she hadn't said a word. Vos tapped the knife in his hand against the plate in a swift, unbroken rhythm. He was _bored_.

" _So_ ," the Kiffar said loudly when the sound of Krell's enthusiastic eating became too much for him, "what's the plan?"

"Eat, Vos," was all Dooku said. Nobody else responded. He looked around the table at the clone, the Mirialan, the Besalisk, the Count, and sighed, not in irritation, but contentment. He had exchanged his Jedi family for _this_. The clone, a traitor to the Republic, a man shown freedom when before there was none. Krell, the Jedi Master that had fallen on Umbara and joined the Sith to serve as Dooku's apprentice. Barriss, the promising young Padawan of Luminara Unduli, so disillusioned with the war that she believed the Jedi to be evil, so sickened with the Order that she had killed six Jedi Knights in a vicious attack on the Temple. Dooku, the man that led the galaxy into war to further the plans of the Sith, whatever that may be. And Obi-Wan, absent now, but never far from his thoughts, his old friend driven to the arms of the Dark Side by the Jedi themselves, driven to victory by the grace of the Sith, and driven to madness by the loss of his lover and his son. Vos smiled. It was a family, much smaller than the Jedi, but much closer, each and every one of them once Jedi that had fallen from the light to embrace the dark. Their pain was shared and well understood, and in that suffering, Vos felt they could be united.

"Barriss," Quinlan drawled, leaning in toward the girl, who tensed and looked away. "Do you realize that, except for the _actual_ Sith Lords, you've killed more Jedi than any of us?"

Krell stopped eating and looked up from his plate, yellow eyes narrowed and observing both the Kiffar and the Mirialan. Even Dooku looked up, a sneer upon his lips. " _Pathetic_ ," the Count growled, shooting a glare at his apprentice, and Krell visibly shrank. Barriss did as well, slinking down further in her seat and a deep green flush coming to her face, so dark that the line of small, diamond shaped tattoos across the bridge of her nose nearly could not be seen. Vos rolled his eyes. Kenobi would have been impressed.

"Hey, is Barriss the reason that Obi-Wan left for Coruscant?" Vos asked loudly, raising his voice to be heard over the distance to the other end of the table, and Dooku visibly winced in irritation, looking up from his work once again.

"Is that any business of yours?" Dooku droned, his gaze returning to his work.

"Um...I feel like the correct answer to that question is _yes_." The Kiffar grinned broadly when the Count shot him a vicious glare, but did nothing else. He was under Kenobi's protection, Dooku had even said so, and dear Obi-Wan was so terribly insane that Dooku seemed reluctant to mess with him. _At all_. Being property wasn't terribly bad, so long as his owner was the delightfully mad Kenobi, and given that he now lived with _Sith Lords_ , the protection was welcome.

Not that he needed it.

"I don't know when Lumis is scheduled to return," Dooku muttered. "I doubt _he_ knows when he will return, and if your boredom continues to be this irritating, I may have to explain to him how you managed to _disappear_." A cruel smirk passed over the Count's lips, and Quinlan found the blood suddenly rushing out of his face. Dooku was _serous_. "Shall we take bets? I don't think he'd even notice you're gone..."

The desire to talk to the Count suddenly rapidly diminished. He leaned over to Cody, the clone eying him and leaning away. "Is the Count _always_ this boring?" the Kiffar asked, and Cody snorted and returned to his food.

"Can't say, sir. I don't spend much time here."

"Well, do _you_ know when Kenobi's coming back?"

A lazy smile spread over the clone's face, his dark eyes flashing with mischief. "You sound like a lovesick puppy, Vos."

"Oh, I _am_!" the Kiffar drawled lazily, planting his elbows on the table and his chin in his hands and reached out with the Force to begin putting roll after delicious roll on his plate. "We've been separated for _so long_ , but I knew we'd always find each other again!"

Cody chuckled, and Quinlan could see the Mirialan that sat across from him sinking further down into her seat. "Love that transcends time and space...and moral compunctions, hmm?" The Clone smirked. "Well, couples that slay together, stay together, I suppose." He shrugged and took a long drink from the mug next to him, and Quinlan leaned over to try and see what it was, but with no success. "Of course, _I'm_ with him all the time."

Vos' eyes narrowed dangerously. "Are you saying _you_ replaced me, clone?" Cody didn't answer. He just shoveled another piece of steak into his mouth, and Dooku groaned loudly.

"Are you quite finished, you imbeciles?" He was met only with a wide grin from the Kiffar and a thumbs up from the clone as he took another long drink from the glass. Vos could feel the Sith's tension mounting. "If this is what your boredom has wrought, I will give you something to do."

"I can give him something to do, Master," Krell growled, his deep voice amused and predatorily eying the Kiffar, who sharkishly grinned back, but a swift glare from the Sith Lord cowed the Besalisk.

" _You_ , my apprentice, have a long day of suffering ahead of you. Your failure to kill Asajj Ventress is _most_ unbecoming, and it's my understanding that _Vos_ beat you on Raxus."

"He had _help_ , Master," Krell said meekly, and the sudden, violent spasm that wracked his body showed just how displeased the Sith was. He gasped in pain, his large hands gripping the table so hard the wood groaned in protest, threatening to splinter under the powerful grip.

" _Excuses_ ," the Count hissed, his grasp on the Besalisk tightening, causing the thick muscles to strain with effort. "My apprentice should have no trouble in dispatching a Jedi Master and an upstart Padawan, not to say anything of the _failed_ apprentice that you let escape." The Mirialan across Vos began to whimper in pain, her hands clutched to her head as the Dark Side began to thrash with fury as the Sith's rage grew. Even Quinlan began to shake, biting his lip to keep from uttering any vocalization of the searing pain he felt coursing through his blood. Cody leaned back and casually sipped from his cup, a faint smile on his lips. The clone was unaffected. Vos decided that he hated Kenobi's commander.

Dooku leaned back, disgust and hate on his patrician face, and Vos thought he saw the deep, brown eyes flash pale yellow for a fraction of a second. "Perhaps Lumis' apprentice will have more luck in murdering Ventress than you did."

" _I will_ ," Vos snarled, the pain that Dooku inflicted upon him and the mere thought of Ventress spiking his rage, and he could feel the pull of the Dark Side upon him, powerful and consuming and filling his mind with images of him wrapping his hands around Ventress' pale, slender neck and watching with glee as he choked the life out of her. He could do it. _He would do it_. The pained whimpers of Barriss slowly drew his attention, and with it, his wrath. _This_ girl had tried to frame Ahsoka for her crimes, had almost dragged his beloved Padawan down with her, had almost gotten her expelled from the Order. True, she had nearly done the same thing with Ventress, and that angered him now as well. She was treacherous, despite her small stature, her meek demeanor, and Vos knew that deep inside her lurked a viciousness that he couldn't see, but understood all the same. She needed to die. _Now_. For Ahsoka...

"Unwise, Vos..." Dooku warned, sensing the Kiffar's murderous intentions, and the gentle reprimand, the swift tug of the Force, had snapped Vos out of his wrathful focus, and his rage abated. He looked across at Barriss, the girl's head bowed and seemingly none the wiser, but he caught a swift, sudden flash of something dark and vicious within the girl, a sinister gleam in her eyes as she peered up at him from her downcast gaze. It was barely perceptible, but she was _staring_ at him. Quinlan felt his heart pounding in his chest with excitement. Perhaps there was a good reason that Kenobi brought her here.

"One would think you wouldn't be as board as you are..." Dooku drawled. "You've spent days on Oba Diah engaging in the slaughter of billions. You only just returned last night."

"Yes, right, new day and all," Vos said, taking a bite out of one of the many rolls upon his plate. "The scum haven't been eradicated, Satine hasn't been avenged, _Ventress_ is still alive..." He smirked. "So much work to do."

"And you will have to wait for Lumis to return." The Count leaned back in his seat and dragged his finger over the datapad. "I know nothing of his plans with Bo-Katan. _Hopefully_ he won't burn the entire galaxy in his quest for revenge." Vos groaned and his head hit the table. "With how you have been carrying on with my _servants_ , one would think you could find _lots_ to occupy your time with."

Cody snickered. "Not _that_ much time, Count. Vos finishes quickly."

"You are a _liar_ ," Vos snarled. "And a _clone_ , and _nobody_ trusts a clone!" Cody just shrugged and returned to his food. He cared nothing for the opinions of the Dark Siders at the table.

"At the very least," Dooku said, his eyes fixed on his datapad, "you could train with Krell. You need the practice, and _he_ needs a beating. No matter what it is you choose to occupy yourself with, just keep out of my way. The war doesn't run itself."

Whatever it was that Vos was going to respond with caught in his throat when the grand doors open, and Obi-Wan strode through, taking long, even strides toward the table. Everyone seated, save for Dooku, scrambled to their feet, and when Krell knelt upon the ground, Vos and Luminara did the same. Kenobi didn't seem to notice. He simply strode to the table, pulled out the chair at the head, and sat, his gold eyes running over the spread before him and finally looking toward Dooku as the Count poured himself another glass of wine.

"Rise," Kenobi said softly, his long fingers drumming on the table, and the three Force sensitives stood, cautiously seating themselves and looking at Obi-Wan with a fair bit of apprehension. Cody filled a glass for the Sith, placed it before him, and sat by his side. There was silence, tense and overbearing for a moment before Dooku cleared his throat.

"Was your mission a success?"

"...that has yet to be seen."

"Surely you must have a _feeling_ of how it went," Dooku asked, slight irritation slipping into his voice, but the other Sith shrugged.

"I do, but I don't know if my feelings can be trusted."

Dooku frowned. " _Why_."

"My judgement is... _compromised_." And so it continued, back and forth, the others at the table looking between the two heads of the table as each spoke as if they were watching a particularly engaging game of Shockball. Both Lords were becoming increasingly frustrated with the other, Dooku with Kenobi's half answers, and Obi-Wan with the Count's almost fatherly prying. As tensions rose, so did the Dark Side, and the others slunk down in their chairs, picking at food with forks and fingers that they dare not eat, lest the movement incur the wrath of one of the Sith.

"How was our Master?" Dooku said, almost snapped, attempting to change the subject away from Lumis in hopes of getting another result, but no such luck was had. Kenobi shrugged again.

"Fine, I suppose."

" _Fine_ ," Dooku scoffed. "He is _never_ fine, was he pleased with you? Angry? You burned a _planet_ , he must have felt something about it."

"I can't say, I have no insight into our Master's feelings."

"You are," Dooku growled between clenched teeth, "an insufferable _wretch_!" Something broke within Kenobi, a violent snap of the Force that lashed against the occupants of the room, not just searing them with pain, but draining the very power from them. The calm, expressionless face of the Sith Lord broke into a wide, sinister grin, his pupils narrowing as gold and red seemed to swirl together like clouds in a storm, and slowly, slow, manic chuckling rose into crazed laughter as madness gripped him. Krell slowly pushed away from the table, Barriss raised her hands in the air in surrender, and Vos found that he could just stare in awe at the insanity that wove its way through the man he called brother.

" _Everything_ is falling into place," Lumis said between fits of laughter, his hands shaking as he ran them through his hair. "Everything will be mine, _everything_..."

Dooku glared at Vos when the Kiffar whistled, leaned over and tried to look his friend in the face. Kenobi's golden eyes were wide, almost frantic, but he wasn't making eye contact. "Damn...what have you Sith done to him?"

"This wasn't us, this was Maul," Dooku said softly, hoping that the other Lord would be so lost within himself he could not hear, but they had no such luck. Furious eyes darted up and fixed on Dooku, the tight hands grasping his hair shaking uncontrollably as he begun to laugh maniacally, the Dark Side converging upon him as it overtook him completely. Dooku reached for his lightsaber when Lumis' body hitched forward, a hand shooting out to grab the edge of the table in a crushing grip, his eyes shut tight and his breath coming in shallow pants and gasps, his body trembling as he struggled for control, the Dark Side violently thrashing around him, its claws sunk deep and refusing to relinquish its hold.

And then it stopped. The tension in Kenobi's body released, his shaking muscled relaxing, and his breathing returned to a deep, even pace. The Force was calmed, smoothing out into an even pulse, slow and soothing. He looked across the table at Dooku, his eyes tired but clear, and said, "I'm hungry."

It took less than a second for Cody and Vos to begin piling food on to multiple plates for the Sith, everything from thick cut, juicy steaks, piles of ripe, cut fruit, steamed vegetables and an assortment of breads and pastries all found their way onto the plates sat before the Lord. He was picky at first, almost repulsed by the idea of eating, since it had been so very long since he last ate, but slowly, small nibbles became quick, ravenous bites as his body eased back into the mortal realm, almost visibly switching away from a physical dependence on the Force to sustain him. Vos could have sworn he could see the man's skin shedding its sickly pallor, brightening again with life, and while he knew his friend was far from healed, it was a start. Even Dooku looked relieved.

"The mission," Kenobi said between bites of the red, rare steak, "is progressing as planned. We should be ready to conclude the war within a year, if everything continues to line up for us. _Which_ ," he drawled, picking up his wine glass and draining the entire thing, and holding it out so Cody could refill it, "I suspect it will. I can feel it, which may not account for much." He smiled almost sheepishly, pointing to his temple with his finger. "It's broken. Correcting the damage...is not easy."

"It is a relief to see that you have tamed the Force to your will," Dooku said softly. "I was worried you may literally burn down everything we set out to accomplish."

Kenobi didn't answer for a moment, his gaze sliding out of focus and his eye twitching as his hand tightened around his knife. A moment later and it was over, a small smile on his lips. "I am beginning to regain control, yes..."

"Is the war really going to be over, Master Kenobi?" Barriss squeaked, and Obi-Wan turned to her and smiled brightly.

"It _is_ , young one. And soon." His chest swelled with pride. "The Sith will bring order to the galaxy the likes of which have never been seen, a feat that cannot be accomplished by the Jedi and their... _indifference_."

"There are so many of them," she said softly, her voice trembling with fear. "And I...I-I don't belong here."

"You _do_ belong here, Barriss," he said earnestly, reaching across and grasping her hand in his, and the Mirialan flushed deeply. "You are a Jedi killer. You know the truth of the Order, that the Jedi have lost their way. The Force has turned on them, and now looks favorably upon the Sith."

"You are _Masters_ ," she whispered, her hand shaking in his. "Master Krell, Master Dooku, Master Vos...I'm just a Padawan, and what's worse, I got _caught_. Why did you save me?"

"The Republic was going to execute you," Kenobi said softly, holding out his empty plate to Cody, who quickly stacked more food upon it. "It's a grave injustice, putting someone to death for exposing the truth about their failing democracy. I couldn't allow that." The smile dropped from his face and he quickly reached out and grabbed her chin, tilting her face side to side, observing the girl carefully as she gasped and struggled when she felt the Sith enter her mind. She tried to force him out, but it was futile, and with a choked sob, she closed her eyes and submitted to the violation. "Also, you are friends with Anakin Skywalker, and I need to know _everything_ about him if I am to destroy him completely."

Kenobi withdrew from her mind, and the girl shuddered, gasping for breath as she was released. "I was wondering what you planned on doing with her, Lumis." Dooku droned, looking with disdain at the girl. "You cannot take more than one apprentice."

"The war will be ending soon, Tyranus. The more fallen Jedi we collect, the stronger we will be when we come to power." He pushed away from the table and grabbed a piece of fruit from his plate. "I'll take her with me to Mustafar when I return this evening. We'll have her fully embracing the Dark Side soon enough."

Dooku arched an eyebrow. "Leaving so soon?" he asked, and Kenobi smirked as he picked up his glass and drained the remainder of the wine.

"Soon, yes. I need to meet with Bo-Katan. The galaxy won't burn itself." He whistled as he turned to leave. "Come, apprentice," he said gently, walking toward the doors on the other side of the room, and Quinlan looked around to make certain that Kenobi wasn't addressing anyone else. He rose and took off after the Sith, easily falling into step with him as they passed through the doors and into the long hallway beyond.

They walked in silence for a time, and the Kiffar couldn't help but notice that it felt _just_ like before. They had spent a year together. A year _very_ close, where they grew to be close friends, attachments and all, Vos, because he just wasn't very good at abiding by that rule, and Kenobi, because his flirting with the Dark Side had left him more open to such things. Even after Obi-Wan died, after they _thought_ he had died, Quinlan always felt his friend walking beside him, groaning at his lack of tact, reprimanding his foolish decisions, advising him away from his excesses, which never worked, of course, but it never worked when the real Kenobi had said them either. He was a constant companion made only stronger when the Jedi believed he had become one with the Force. But he wasn't. _Well_ , he _was_ , but not in the way they thought. Kenobi was Sith, and when Vos found out, something dark within him drew him to his old friend, even if that meant abandoning the Jedi. After all, he had blamed the Council for what had happened to Obi-Wan. _Someone_ had to stand beside Kenobi. It may as well be him.

"I'm...glad," Kenobi whispered, breaking the silence, and Vos looked down at him and couldn't keep a grin off his face when he felt warmth and affection coming from the Sith Lord. "That you and I managed to find each other again."

He had so much to say. _So much_. It felt like there was a lifetime between them, like they were different and the same all at once, and Quinlan didn't know where to start, or even _how_ to start. "Yes, me too," was all he managed to say, and he kicked himself for sounding like a tongue tied fool. Quinlan Vos was _never_ at a loss for words.

"There isn't exactly friendship among the Sith," Kenobi continued softly, a slow, easy pace down the long halls, twisting and turning this way and that until Vos felt totally turned around. They looked like there were in the palace living quarters, but he couldn't be sure. "Dooku and I get along now, but before, my Master made us fight. We _hated_ each other, because hate made us strong, and we needed to be strong to destroy the other." He scoffed. "Our Master would never allow that to pass, of course, but keeping us filled with murderous intent tempered us and made us more connected to the Dark Side."

"That sounds awful..." Vos said softly, looking down at his friend and watching emotions play across his face, hate and sadness and fondness and the hints of insanity all blending together at once. Kenobi shook his head.

"It was easy at the time. The Sith were my family, everything I ever wanted and more. It was harsh, yes, and cold, but desires and passions were embraced and accepted, not looked down upon and scorned like they were with the Jedi."

"I always found the Jedi to be warm and accepting," Vos said, and Kenobi laughed harshly.

"Until they aren't."

"...until they aren't," Quinlan nodded in agreement. "Their handling of you was an atrocity."

"It made it _very_ easy to accept my new reality, and in time, I grew to have a tenuous association with Dooku. It was always confrontational, but we could work together, which is all my Master wanted." Obi-Wan laid a hand on a control console by a wall, and the door opened with a hiss, emptying out into a large, spacious antechamber with several open rooms branching off from it. The afternoon light filtered in from the wide windows, and Vos looked around, nodding in appreciation. He recognized the design and layout as the same as the bedroom he was given in the palace, though Kenobi's was a fair deal bigger than his own.

"I imagined your death a lot," Vos said softly, his eyes following Kenobi as he shrugged off his robes, folding them neatly and laying them on one of the side tables. "It...consumed me. For a time. You and I were very close, and the Council just...threw you away." The Kiffar's fist clenched as his anger awakened anew, bringing with it the poisonous touch of the Dark Side. "I _hated_ the Jedi, and I blamed them for killing you. I stayed with them, of course, but...well, I did an awful lot of drinking."

"You've _always_ done an awful lot of drinking," Kenobi said, a smirk on his face that Vos returned with a wolfish grin.

"Oh, _baby_ , I had to! It lessens the pain of not having you!"

"Mm, I'm sure."

Vos smiled, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. "Mind you, I still had Luminara, and Qui-Gon and I grew very close after a while, but I never had a friend like you after that."

"Nor did I. I mean, I had Grievous, sort of. He's not what you'd consider friendly." Vos snorted in agreement. "And I had Ventress." At that, the Kiffar's face darkened, and Kenobi shivered when he felt the Dark Side rush like wind in the air. "I know," he said softly, hand extended to calm the Force, and it slowly complied to his will, and despite being robbed of power, Vos' yellow eyes still glowed with murderous intent and a wrath that was just barely contained. "She betrayed me too, my friend. She was my closest friend for years, we did so much together. And still she turned her back on me."

"I _loved_ her," Quinlan said, his voice choking with rage. "I loved her, and she _lied_ to me!" The Kiffar grabbed at Kenobi's shirt, the fine silk fitting loose over his strong, dangerously thin body. "Please, Obi-Wan, _help me_! I need her dead, I need her to know what she did to me! I want her to _feel_ it when I take her life from her, and I want her to know how much I enjoyed killing her!"

"Hush now, Quin," Obi-Wan said smoothly, his hand extended and projecting calm, and Vos dropped to his knees with a groan, the Dark Side and Kenobi's presence heavy on his mind. The Sith cupped the Kiffar's cheek, ran his thumb over the gold band tattoo that now matched the fallen Jedi's eyes, traced the long, thin burned scar that ran so close to his eye, a scar that Kenobi had put there himself when he was first reunited with his old friend as a Lord of the Sith. "You'll have your revenge. And speaking of, how was _my_ revenge?"

"The population of Oba Diah was executed, as you wanted."

"Did they burn?"

"...n-no." Kenobi frowned, his eyes narrowing as he observed the nervous Kiffar, and he could feel the familiar heat burning in his vision, the flames dancing just out of the corner of his eye, the soft, seductive voice urging him to burn them all, burn _everything_...

"That's fine," he finally said, brushing it away as best as he could, and while his control did remain, the fire, the voice, the itching restlessness under his skin did not wain. His Master had warned him against burning everything, as he wanted to do. Sidious was wise, and not even his insanity could keep him from following his Master's wishes. Not now. Not ever. "You said executed, then? Did you do it yourself?"

"I did," Vos whispered, taking in a shuddering breath and groaning when he felt the Dark Side burn inside him, not in anger, but in simmering pleasure as he felt the strength of the Force flow within him. "All in my way, hundreds of them. _Thousands_ of them. And it was _so_ easy to do..." He almost whined in desperation when Kenobi's hand left his face and turned from him, casually striding to a dresser in the room and pulling out a cleaned and pressed set of robes.

"The Jedi?" he asked, stepping out of his boots and shedding his shirt, and while he _did_ look healthier, the dark scars on his body did little to cover his gaunt frame, the striations in his muscle clearly seen under skin that seemed far too thin. Vos' gaze lingered on a scar deeper than they rest, almost black against his pale skin that angled in near his spine and exited just above his left hip. It was a scar left by an impalement, and Quinlan knew full well who put it there. He had been there when it had happened. He swallowed hard, and wondered if Ahsoka would be safe from the Sith Lord's wrath.

"They were there, as you said they would be," Vos said absently as Kenobi slid out of his pants and into a new pair. "Bo-Katan handled them. They couldn't get involved. I mean, they _tried_ to help the civilians, but there were too many of us. Nobody escaped the planet, Obi-Wan, I made certain of that myself."

"Revenge and murder suits you, Quin. You seem to have taken to it well."

"Speaking of..." the Kiffar said, taking long strides to stand at the Sith's side and handing him the clean shirt from the folded stack. " _My_ revenge-"

"Will come soon," Obi-Wan concluded, taking the shirt and sliding it on, his quick fingers fastening the buttons. " _Very_ soon. I can feel it. You don't need to seek it out. Have patience, my friend, and it will come to you."

Vos took a deep breath and nodded. "Alright, so where are we going?" he asked when Kenobi pulled on his robes and cinched them with his belt.

" _I_ am going to Mustafar with Barriss. She is meek and timid. She is dark, yes, but I can make her better if she embraces the Dark Side. She doesn't see herself as one of us, not yet. But she will. The Sith will be her salvation." He smiled and patted the Kiffar's cheek. " _You_ , Quin, will stay here."

His jaw nearly his the floor, and Quinlan found himself babbling incoherently for a moment before he stuttered, " _W-what_?! _Here_! Kenobi, lover, _please_! You can't keep me here, I'll go out of my mind! Like you, but _worse_!" The Sith's eyes narrowed, but Vos didn't seem to notice. "So help me, Kenobi, you leave me here and I might render you clone commander into a sex-addled pleasure slave just to keep the boredom away!" Obi-Wan simply shrugged, a devious smirk on his face.

"Cody is coming with me." Sensing his outrage, Obi-Wan put up his hands to placate the frustrated man. "I need him, Vos. I'm meeting with Bo-Katan to discuss the assault on Kessel. We should be attacking that forsaken rock within a day or two."

"You're just bringing him so you have someone to pleasure you!" Vos cried dramatically, and Obi-Wan felt himself laugh from a place inside him that did not originate in madness for the first time in a _very_ long time. "I'm a _far_ better lover than he is!"

"I'm sure you are, Quin," he drawled, running a long finger down the Kiffar's cheek, and Vos quickly snatched his hand and kissed the callused palm. "But you've seen my palace, and you know damn well I don't lack for slaves to pleasure me, if I desire it."

"All the more reason to bring me!" the Kiffar cried, and Kenobi rolled his eyes, snatched his hand away, and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Quinlan Vos," he snapped, his voice stern and leaving no room for compromise or argument. "You are staying here because Ventress is _too smart_ to attack Mustafar."

He stared at the Sith Lord, his eyes wide, his jaw slack as his mind slowly changed gears from playful outrage, to blinding hate. "Oh..." Vos finally said, his hand unconsciously touching Tholme's lightsaber at his hip. "Yes, of course..."

"We need to keep you stationary, at least for a little while. We _want_ her to find you."

"Yes, we do..." He took a deep, shuddering breath, his eyes closed as he grasped his rage and held it close. "So you suppose she'll bring Ahsoka?"

Within Vos, Kenobi could sense not just hate and betrayal, but concern and love, deep and pervasive. "I suppose so..." he said softly. "She was with you on Raxus, after all. I feel like they would attempt your rescue together."

"Are you going to kill her?" Vos asked, his voice breathless and just barely a whisper, and Kenobi's immediate answer was caught in his throat, almost as if the Force willed him not to speak. He closed his eyes, considered his visions, the ever changing Togruta in the field of dead Jedi, the one he believed to be Ahsoka Tano, and how she had gone from aloof to now dark and curious in her approach. Something had changed. Something _was_ changing. This may be it.

"I was..." he said softly, his gold eyes running over his tense and nervous friend. "She _did_ stab me in the back, after all, but..." He sighed heavily. "She's important to you, Quin, and I have had visions of her often. Perhaps she still has a role to play. I suppose-" Whatever he was going to say was cut off by strong arms engulfing him in a crushing hug, and with one, small thing, one life saved, Kenobi could feel Vos' loyalty run nearly as deep as the close bond they shared. Vos was his. _Forever_.

"Thank you..." the Kiffar whimpered, holding him out at arms length. "Listen, Kenobi," he said, biting his lip and looking away, then nodding when he found his resolve. "About Satine, I-"

" _Don't_."

"No, I have to." He smiled sadly when he watched the corner of Kenobi's mouth twitch, his golden eyes slide out of focus, a slight tremor rush through his body. "I'm _so_ sorry she'd dead. Her and your son, and..." Vos trailed off, uncertain of where he was going with that, unsure of what he was going to say. If there was anything he _could_ say. "We'll have revenge, Obi-Wan. For her and your son, as much as we can get, for as long as it takes."

"...yes." Kenobi looked down at his hands, unsure of where else to look. He could feel his mind begin to blaze, the Force catching the heat like tinder, but he swiftly reached out and grabbed hold, brought it under control as he had seen Sidious do. He could have control. He _would_ have it. A visit to Shaak Ti may be in order, the Jedi had always helped him in his meditations. "I know..." he said softly. "She was my companion for so long. So much more than a friend to me, and she took a piece with her when I laid her to rest on Mandalore." The Sith bowed his head. "The void she left behind in me has been filled with madness, I know that...but I can't stop it."

"We'll do it together, Obi-Wan," Vos said softly, a small smile on his lips. "You and me. _Together_."


	92. The Rescue

"And you're _sure_ that Dooku won't be here?" Boba Fett asked, his voice cross, the light tones catching the deepening of his age. At a recent thirteen, Fett was easily the youngest bounty hunter worthy of note in the galaxy, a result of having done this all his life, trained since before he could remember by his father, Jango Fett, the eminent bounty hunter in the galaxy until his death on Geonosis three years back. A brutal death by Jedi Knights, which young Boba had watched. He still saw it sometimes when he slept, and he hated the Jedi for it.

"Dooku has a _war_ to run," Ventress scoffed, clearly irritated by the boy's questions. "He had greater things to do and more important places to be. And even if he _is_ here, he certainly won't bother himself with _thieves_." Fett's eyes narrowed as he looked the woman over, and he hated her. Sure, she was paying him and his crew an insane amount of credits for what amounted to a heist, a fairly simple thing, considering that they were acting as a highly paid diversion, but still. He didn't know the extent of the plan when he took the job, which he was _not_ comfortable with, since the rest of his crew had jumped at the prospect of so much money. After all, two hundred fifty thousand credits was nothing to turn away from.

But they had worked with this woman before in the past, calling herself No Name in an attempt to conceal her identity, and it had gone _very_ badly, ending with Boba and his group failing the contract because _No Name_ got soft for a slave they were transporting to a lascivious master. Yes, she _had_ left them the sum of their part of the payment, but nothing would square them away. Fett's pride was wounded, and no amount of credits could correct that. Until it _did_. Like his crew, the insane amount she was offering was enough for him to swallow his wounded pride and take her credits, even without a firm grasp on what exactly it was they were going to be stealing. However, they had been assured they weren't the main event, that No Name and her Togruta companion would be going for the actual target. Fett considered that complete bantha shit. After all, the point of a diversion was to draw attention away from the objective. They'd be in the thick of it, and possibly dealing with his late father's previous employer, a man he knew to be _unbelievably_ dangerous.

He looked around at his crew. The reptilian Trandoshan, Bossk, the purple-skinned Theelin, Latts Razzi, the seemingly sentient assassin droid, C-21 Highsinger, and the renowned and dangerous Kyuzo, Embo, his pet anooba, Marrok sleeping contentedly by his side. They all sat in the hold of the _Slave I_ , the ship that used to belong to Jango Fett until his death, when Boba had taken possession of the ship. He had patched the navicomputer into the coordinates of the freighter that they had hijacked, and the supply ship was continuing its run to Serenno, where it was already given the property security measures to land safely. Getting into the Count's palace wasn't actually shaping up to be that hard, and Boba hated to admit it, but the plan was a good one. No Name had done her research. But getting out...

Fett again looked around at his crew. The plan was uncertain, the variables unknown. It was dangerous, and as much as he liked credits, it was no good to him if he were dead. "I'm calling it off," he said sternly, getting up and marching toward the cockpit, and _everyone_ rose to object.

"The _credits_ , Fett!" Bossk growled in his deep, gravelly hiss. "Think of all those _credits_!"

"Think of _Count Bloody Dooku_!" Fett snapped in return, pointing an angry finger at the cross, bald woman that employed them. "This guy must have done _something_ awful to get himself in trouble with the leader of the Separatists, and since _No Name_ here isn't saying anything, we're _leaving_."

"He tried to kill him," Ventress said plainly, her arms crossed over her chest, and a few of Fett's crew whistled, impressed. "All you're doing is running the _distraction_ ," she said dismissively, as if it were the easiest thing in the galaxy. "My friend and I are doing the hard part. Do you _think_ you can handle that? A _real_ bounty hunter could."

Boba bristled. She was manipulating him, and he knew it, but the matter had been settled as soon as the words left her mouth. " _Fine_ ," he hissed. "But once we begin, you're only getting fifteen minutes to get in and out, understand? I plan on living to spend the credits you've given me."

Ventress frowned and crossed her arms. "I'll be quick. Don't you worry about that." His nose in the air and standing as tall as he could, which was still below the woman's height, he turned on his heel and stormed off to the cockpit where he found No Name's associate sitting in the copilot's seat, quiet and hunched over and holding a small holoprojector in her hands. Above it floated the blue image of a thin woman in long, dark robes, a concerned look on her face. Boba tried to frown, but found he couldn't. The girl had been quiet and sullen since she had boarded the ship, and he didn't think he heard her speak a single word. She was young, very young, only a few years older than himself, and though nobody had _said_ anything about it, he suspected the girl was a Jedi, or at least training to become one. Despite his hatred of the Jedi for what had happened to his father, Boba didn't seem to mind much. After all, the girl was too young to have taken part in the Battle of Geonosis.

It didn't hurt that she was pretty cute as well.

"Take caution, Padawan," the woman in the hologram said. "I sense something deeply wrong with this. It feels...too familiar."

"How?" Ahsoka asked softly, and Boba took his seat in the pilot's chair. The girl didn't even seem to notice him there, and if she did, she certainly didn't care.

"I was there when Obi-Wan was given permission to go to Serenno and confront Dooku," she said softly, sadly, and the Togruta's eyes widened as she gave the woman her rapt attention. "They also sent him alone, just as they're sending you alone now. And _no_ ," she said firmly when the girl opened her mouth to speak. "Ventress doesn't count. She isn't a Jedi. You came to the Council for help and we sent you off with nothing. This is _exactly_ what happened with Obi-Wan."

"Not _exactly_ , Master," Ahsoka whispered, her hands nervously clenching the holoprojector in her hands. It was a rare thing for Luminara to drift so close to anger, but she did have a lot going on. It seemed like even her faith in the Council was beginning to wane, and even she began to stand closer to Qui-Gon's disregard.

"Not exactly, of course," the Mirialan said softly. "But close enough to be noticed. Just remember how that ended, Ahsoka. Jedi died, and Kenobi embraced the Sith. Be mindful of the risks, Padawan. It's a dangerous place you go to."

"I will, Master."

The Mirialan smiled gently for a moment before her face became hard and impassive. "If you see Barriss..." She took a deep breath, her voice shuddering for a moment. "Rescuing Vos is hard enough, but if you see my Padawan, _please_..."

"I'll do what I can to take her back into custody," Ahsoka said softly, but the Master shook her head.

"That isn't what I was going to ask." She smiled gently at the Togruta. "Don't you worry yourself about it, Ahsoka. I'll see to Barriss myself. Please, return to us safely with the information we need. Maybe then we can mobilize the Jedi."

"If it isn't too late..." the Padawan muttered, and a grim shadow fell over the Jedi Master.

"Yes...provided it's not too late. May the Force be with you, Ahsoka." The hologram flickered off, leaving the girl to stare at the rounded device in her hands.

"You're a Jedi?" Boba asked quietly, though the answer was clear. The girl nodded.

"At least, I was..." She could feel the boy's eyes on her, narrowed and confused, the same feel on him that she felt from the millions of clones that she had served with. It made it easy for her to understand him, his moods, his feelings, though she could sense he was very different from the other clones. She relaxed, the familiarity of a comforting presence easing her. "I lost my Master. What is a Padawan without a Master?" The boy stayed silent, and she laughed bitterly. "No Jedi at all, that's what. That's why we're going to save him. We _have_ to. Not just for him, but for me as well."

That explained the mission. At least this Ahsoka was more forthcoming and honest than No Name, than _Ventress_ , she was called. It was expected from a Jedi, Fett supposed, and this one seemed almost defeated as she sat there. It wasn't a good sign. "Is that who we're rescuing? Another Jedi?" The girl nodded. "Aren't Jedi supposed to be able to accomplish the impossible? What does he need us for?"

"He may not need us at all." Tano's big blue eyes drifted up to the forward viewport to look at the blackness of space before them, and the freighter that they tagged along with like a security detail. "Ventress said he wouldn't fall to the Dark Side, that she trained him well enough to not give in, and I believe her, I do, but..." She sighed, running a hand over the small bumps of her growing montrails and down to clutch at a beaded chain that hung down over her shoulder beside her lekku. Boba had seen similar on human Jedi in the form of braids, and he assumed that the chain must serve the same purpose for the hairless Togruta.

"You think he's gone rogue? Or traitor?"

"...I don't know. He _hates_ the Sith. He hates Count Dooku, and he hates that his friend was stolen by them. I can't see why he'd join them. He's stubborn and proud and strong, and I don't think he can be broken." She turned to look at the young bounty hunter. "But we're going to rescue him, and that may not be something he wants." Her fists clenched tightly around the lightsaber at her hip, the weapon that belonged to her Master. "I have to know, regardless of the truth. I _have_ to. How else am I suppose to know what to do?"

Boba didn't have a good answer for that, so he didn't say anything. Serenno appeared small through the viewport, and as the planet grew closer, he couldn't shake the feeling that this mission was doomed for failure. He shrugged, leaned back, and watched the young Jedi learner appreciatively out of the corner of his eye. It didn't matter if this fool's errand failed. He was getting paid regardless.

* * *

Quinlan Vos knelt in the center of the training ring, stripped to the waist, his tanned skin gleaming with sweat and large, red welts from Dooku's lightsaber. He had underestimated the old man, and had been for the better part of the day. With Kenobi gone with Barriss and Cody, and Krell sent off on some mission near Murkhana, Vos was left alone with the Sith Lord Tyranus, and had been for the past two days. He was bored out of his mind, and had taken to filling his time with drinking heavily from Dooku's private reserves and taking his time getting to know the servants as intimately as he could. When _several_ women had reported in that morning to their duties late, the imperious Count was already tired of the pleasure seeking Vos and had dragged him out of bed, naked and hung over and threw him into the training ring to be taught a lesson. _Eventually_ , he sent for a pair of pants for the groggy Vos, the Kiffar still stumbling and feeling the effects of the previous night's binge in shaky legs and unfocused, blurry vision.

Vos had beaten Dooku before, was brimming with confidence after he slid into his pants, and had spun his lightsaber around his wrist with practiced ease. Using the Force to ease the unwanted effects of the alcohol, he looked upon the Count with disdain, taking in his rigid posture, his loose, relaxed grip on his saber, the superior smirk upon his face, and above all else, his advanced age. Dooku had to be eighty years old at _least_ , and a fight against an old man was no contest. If he could kill Dooku now, then he could stand as true equals with Obi-Wan, Sith brothers, not Master and apprentice but _actual_ partners.

Which led him to _now_ , on the ground and panting with effort and pain. Dooku, apparently, had been holding back on Raxus, and the match had been three on one then. Now, with only Vos to stand before him, the Kiffar understood why Dooku had become apprentice to the Master Sith. He was spry for an old man, and elegant, no movement wasted in his flowing, graceful style. He had fought with better than Vos, clearly, and had prevailed then as well, and while Quinlan's saber was turned up to full power with the intention to kill, Dooku was merely playing with him, the power dialed down to wickedly painful, but far from fatal. The threat of death, Vos suspected, may have simply given the Sith Lord more power.

More than once he felt the blade slide between his ribs into his lungs, cut across his back, his broad chest, his strong stomach and arms in ferocious, stinging cuts that left large, red welts, not the burns that Kenobi had inflicted upon him on Christophsis. Those burns had left scars, meant in part to claim the Kiffar as Kenobi's, the dark burns around his wrists like shackles that bound him to the Sith that inflicted them. The marks Dooku left would fade, but they hurt just as bad. He wondered if Kenobi were as strong as Dooku, though he suspected he must be, if he wasn't stronger. It was no wonder the Jedi hadn't been able to beat them.

"You are weak," Dooku said calmly, circling the man and keeping his lightsaber pointed at Vos. Quinlan looked over to see his weapon laying halfway across the arena, the saber having been disarmed a moment earlier by a quick flick of the Count's wrist and an ill-timed thrust by Vos. With a groan, he tried to rise, only to find Dooku's red blade sliding easily under his shoulder blade and out through his chest. He shuddered, gasping in pain and dropped to the compact sand of the ground, but the pain didn't stop. The saber remained imbedded in him, the tip pressed deep into the ground and effectively skewering the Kiffar.

" _Don't beg_ ," Dooku growled when Vos looked like he was about to speak, a deep whimper escaping his tight, pained throat, and he began chuckling softly, devolving into a fit of coughing as he shook his head.

"Wasn't going to..." Vos choked, one eye closed and looking up with a faint, pained smirk on his lips. "Wanted to ask if you'll kiss me when you're done _penetrating_ me."

"Do you think you're funny, _Vos_?" Dooku snarled, drawing his saber out of the convulsing body, looking in disdain at the coughing Kiffar. "Enjoy it. It won't last. The Dark Side will drive that from you."

"We shall see..."

Dooku scowled, casually held up his hand, and struck Quinlan with a barrage of blue lightning that arched and crackled along the man's body, wracking him with pain and causing him to writhe, his jaw clenched tightly to keep from screaming, but furious grunts of pain escaped his throat regardless. The torment continued until Dooku's attention was drawn to the heavy doors opening, his dark eyes narrowed at the newcomer who had no business being there. Only a select few had access to this area, and the Mandalorian that strode in was not one of those few. The red and black helmet was removed to reveal a clone, the standard issue armor replaced for the armor of the Shadow King of Mandalore, and the torture stopped, Vos collapsing against the ground in a pained and panting heap. The clone approached slowly, observing the half dressed man on the ground, then smirked at Dooku as he saluted.

"What are you doing here," the Count demanded, and the clone held his head up higher. "You have no right to be here, no _access_."

He held up a card with a superior smirk. "Master Kenobi gave me his access card. He said you'd most likely be here, and he would like to remind you that Quinlan Vos is _his_ apprentice, and if you hurt him too badly, it will be much more difficult to bend him over and take him. Sir." From the ground, Vos began to laugh, gasping between pained breaths, but laughing none the less.

"And _how_ did Lumis suspect this was happening?" Dooku snarled, highly agitated, but deactivating his saber and clipping it back to his belt. The clone just smirked.

"He says his connection with Vos runs deeper than any ocean, so close is their bond." He paused and looked at the man on the ground, sand sticking to his bare and sweaty chest. "...also, he suspected it would take less than four minutes for you to grow dangerously irritated with him."

" _Ha_!" Vos shouted from the ground, trailing off and wheezing as he began to cough. "Well the joke's on him, it took _five minutes_!"

"No, Lumis had the right of it..." Dooku growled. "Surely he is not so petty to send his _commander_ back here to talk at me. He knows the palace is mine, and so long as he leaves me to babysit his pet, I will do as I wish."

Cody bowed, a gesture that appeared mocking, and would have been taken as such if it was from anyone else, but all of this particular clone's actions appeared to be derisive. It came from spending so many years as Lumis' right hand, an affect of rank and nobility that the clone did not deserve, but the younger Sith Lord always held a soft spot for the man and spoiled him. "As you say, my Lord," the clone said. "He sent me to tell you of his current status." He stood up taller. "Teamwork and communication are the keys to a successful revenge strategy, he said."

Dooku groaned in irritation, but his posture relaxed and his temper eased. Vos sat up, his arms shaking with residual pain as he looked up at his tormentor. It seemed that, despite his apparent anger, the Count was concerned for Kenobi, and the news from him was welcome. "Report then, clone, and begone with you." A wry smile crossed over Cody's face, and he folded his hands behind his back.

"The rogue Jedi Barriss Offee has surrendered to the Dark Side."

Dooku arched an eyebrow. "So soon? She was meek and timid when she arrived, I had thought she would need more time."

Cody shrugged. "My Master is _very_ convincing, and Mustafar seems to have that effect on those he brings there. Lord Kenobi always says that there is something about fire that is liberating. He freed me and my brothers there as well."

Dooku scoffed dismissively. "He could have done that _anywhere_."

"Perhaps, but he says the Dark Side is strong there, and I believe it, considering the monsters he has made in his laboratories." V os looked curiously between the clone and the Sith Lord. He hadn't seen these laboratories they spoke of in his brief stay in Kenobi's home, but he assumed they meant the Twi'lek males he had seen, hulking, massive beasts with fangs and claws and long, spiked protrusions coming out of their spines.

"It is true that his palace draws the Dark Side to it," Dooku said softly, his hand stroking the white beard on his chin.

"Regardless, Barriss Offee is ours. She needs a few more days in the palace, but she...is not to be underestimated. She has taken to the darkness like she was made for it."

"Has she?"

Cody whistled. "I've seen it. The girl is quiet, but she has a particular talent for murder and perversion. She's made gibbering fools out of a few of my men as well, which is _not_ easy to do."

Vos chuckled deeply as he pushed himself up from the floor and stood relaxed next to the Sith Lord. "Has she? As if killing six Jedi and hundreds of people in an explosion weren't enough. Luminara would be _appalled_."

"Master Kenobi said so as well," Cody said, a smile on his lips as he observed the dirtied, bloody state of Obi-Wan's best friend. "He doesn't believe he can make Luminara fall, though. Barriss doesn't seem to think so either, but he's keeping his options open, and requests that we attempt to capture her so he can give it a shot, at the very least." He crossed his arms and scoffed, rolling his eyes and looking at Dooku with a bored expression. " _Honestly_ , Count, can't you give Vos a shirt or something? He isn't much to look at."

"That's not what you said last night, my sweet," Quinlan drawled, leaning in toward the clone, who simply smirked and did not back off.

"You must be mistaking me for one of my brothers. Last night, _I_ was with Obi-Wan Kenobi..."

" _Is that all_?" Dooku snapped at the two men, idiot grins plastered on their faces, and Cody quickly cleared his throat and resumed his perfect posture.

"No, my Lord. Master Kenobi reports that he is changing the attack plan on Kessel." Dooku frowned and motioned for the man to continue when it looked like the clone might stop, his eyes drifting toward the ground as if he didn't want to complete the rest of the report. "He's diverting half the force to Makeb. He believes a two front assault will keep the Jedi off of him, and he wants to examine Skywalker's priorities. He can't defend both places at once, and the fleet is large enough to burn both planets."

"Wait, _burn them_?" Dooku gasped, his jaw slightly slack. "I thought-" He was interrupted by the clone raising a hand.

"He _was_ , and now he's not. Insanity took him, and being around Mand'alor Bo-Katan isn't helping things. She...stokes the flames, as it were." Cody shrugged. "It isn't too bad, honestly, but it makes conversation difficult. Unless, of course, you want to talk about burning billions of people to death. He's a _great_ fan of that at the moment."

"Your _Master_ ," Dooku snarled, "is gripped in the fury of the Dark Side, driven to absolute madness by grief, and you want to make _light of it_?!" Cody shrugged.

"I don't know anything about the Dark Side, but I _do_ know about Master Kenobi, and right now, he's as insane as they come." He sighed heavily. "However, we all saw him eat a few days ago, and since his trip to Coruscant, he at least knows he's completely mad. Let's not forget that a week ago, he wanted to burn _everything_. Every planet, every system, every person, himself included. And _now_ he just wants to burn _two_." He grinned broadly. "And Hutt Space. That's a vast improvement, and I'm taking anything I can get right now."

"That means nothing if he's still burning entire planets!" Dooku snapped, his voice raised and angry. "Our Master summoned him to Coruscant when he burned Ord Mantell to _stop him_. Destruction had never been the point, and it's all Lumis cares about."

"The destruction of the people that murdered everything he cared about," Quinlan said defensively. "I don't see a problem with this."

"There were _four billion_ people on that planet, Vos!" Dooku growled dangerously, and a moment later, the Kiffar bit his lip and looked away. "Their lives mean nothing, but their deaths are _senseless_."

"I disagree," Cody said softly. "A planet burns, and suddenly the entire galaxy pays attention. _Everyone_ fears the Mandalorian wrath, and even the criminal syndicates are beginning to try and appease them, and if fire burns away his madness and brings him peace, so be it."

"And yet, the burning continues," Dooku said. "Ord Mantell is inhabitable because of Lumis, there is a wound in the Force scarring the system. Billions of lives _screaming_ before they were silenced echoed through the Force so strongly that I could feel it happen on Raxus." He scoffed, but the Count looked worried. "This has shades of Katarr, this is Darth Nihilus all over again."

"One would think you'd be more pleased then," Cody said, slapping the perturbed man on the back. "Relax. Sure, he burned Ord Mantell, but it was only a massacre on Oba Diah. And _yes_ , maybe Kessel and Makeb will burn as well, but by the time he turns his eyes on Hutt Space and Nar Shadda, where he can cause some _real_ damage, I'm sure we'll get a grip on him."

"Your confidence is _inspiring_ ," Dooku said, brushing the man off and rolling his eyes.

"When we get back from Kessel, we'll get good and drunk and I'll have Shaak Ti pleasure him into unconsciousness. He'll be back to himself in no time." The satisfaction of his master plan fell away when he saw Vos staring at him, wide eyed and slack jawed. " _What_."

"Saesee Tiin _said_ that Kenobi had Shaak Ti captured..." the Kiffar said, breathless and amazed. "But I thought his memory had been altered, and I didn't see her on Mustafar." A sly, sinister grin crossed over his face. "So it's true that she's-"

"Don't get any ideas, _Jedi_ ," the clone growled, his finger poking against a red welt on the Kiffar's chest, and Vos hissed in pain. "She is _mine_. All mine."

"But you just said-"

" _And_ my Master's, if he so wishes." He shrugged. "Who knows, maybe it will be better to take him back to Coruscant. He said something about having a mistress there now, and he _was_ improved after seeing her." He smiled softly. "We'll get him right again. It's just going to take time."

"And revenge," Vos said softly, his focus drifting away, and the clone nodded.

"Yes. And revenge."

With a sigh, Dooku decided that the rest of the day could be counted as a loss, so far as punishing the belligerent Quinlan was concerned. He turned to leave, but was stopped when the Kiffar's strong hand wrapped tightly around his arm, the yellow eyes almost crazed, the Dark Side suddenly swelling to a crescendo. "I feel it," he said softly, a cold chill running through a voice too quiet, too calm for the passionate Kiffar. " _Ventress_. _She's here_."

* * *

As soon as the loading droids began unloading the cargo transport, the bounty hunters attacked. Boba Fett pulled his Mandalorian helmet over his head as he turned to remind Ventress in a harsh tone that she had fifteen minutes to get in and out, and if she weren't back on time, they'd leave her behind. Ventress had no doubt they would. She and Ahsoka sat crouched behind the _Slave I_ , and when Fett and the other hunters had attracted the attention of the droid guard on the grounds, the two Force sensitives quietly snuck into the loading bay, empty in the commotion, and slipped into a service tunnel that would take them deep into the reaches of the palace.

She had lied to the bounty hunters, yes, but she didn't feel bad for it. She needed the help to rescue Vos, and nothing else mattered. _Of course_ Dooku would be here, and _of course_ he would come to defend what was his. It would be worse if his apprentice was here, of course, but she, Vos and Ahsoka could handle them in an escape. It was another matter entirely if Kenobi was here, but she'd rather not think about that. For now, she felt alive, burning with power lent to her by the Force in her hatred of Dooku and by something else, something warmer and unidentifiable that she felt for Quinlan. She would get him out. The cost didn't matter, so long as he was free, and once again together with her.

Ahsoka remained silent beside her, grim in her determination, her bare feet making hardly a sound as they sprinted down the dimly lit corridors. Ventress didn't need the light to know where she was going, and she quickly took a sharp turn into another corridor, much more narrow than the one they had branched away from. Slowing to a jog, then a silent walk, the two women kept pressed against the walls, straining to hear the sounds of droids clanking on their patrols of the area, but they could hear nothing. With a deep, calming breath to still her jumpy nerves, Ventress pulled Ahsoka with her through a door and into the wide halls of Serenno's dungeon.

The two women pressed themselves against opposite walls, hurrying on swift, silent feet as they looked into each cell, some filled with unfortunates captured during the war for one reason or another, but most remained empty. There was a time when the dungeons here were nearly full to bursting, but that had been when Obi-Wan lived here, before he had established his death trap of a palace on Mustafar. When he had left, he only opted to bring his most valuable prisoners, and the rest had been executed in a series of training exercises that Ventress had taken part in. "One's skills cannot be honed," Obi-Wan had once told her, "if not practiced on the living." And so she did, and did so often. He had been right, of course. Each death brought her closer to darkness, closer to ultimate power, and she had craved it. But it was never enough, and that craving had nearly destroyed her. And now, she felt that Vos may be in the same danger.

"Ventress," Ahsoka whispered, clutching her arms and rubbing them against the chill that seemed to permeate through the bones. The Dark Side was strong here. It had always been. "Is there another part to the dungeon? He's not here."

She shook her head, staring at the wall of the dead end before them. The long hallway that twisted and turned underneath Serenno's palace was the only dungeon present in the Count's luxury estate. After all, the ancient home had been built for nobility, not for the housing of criminals. It wasn't the labyrinthian maze of cells and torture chambers present in Obi-Wan's Mustafar palace. "This is it," she whispered. "Maybe I was mistaken, maybe Kenobi brought him to Mustafar after all..."

" _Ventress_." Both women quickly spun around, hands on their lightsabers and ready to ignite them when they saw him. Quinlan Vos stood in the middle of the wide corridor, his head bowed, his eyes closed, his robes crisp and clean over his shaking muscles, and Ventress had to reach out a hand to grab Ahsoka's wrist when the young Padawan gave a strangled cry of relief and desperation and started to run toward her Master. Something was wrong, and that something was made apparent when Ventress looked at her lover's trembling hand and saw a lightsaber clutched tightly in his clenched fist. She felt a cold pit drop in her stomach like lead, felt the chill of ice run through her veins. She knew that lightsaber. It was one she would never forget, the first one she had collected from the field of battle, the first Jedi she had slain. Master Tholme.

 _Quinlan knew_.

"Ventress, let me go!" Ahsoka shouted, prying at the other woman's firm grasp, but Asajj pulled her back, her steel grip tight. "Master!" the Padawan yelled, extending a hand toward Vos, her heart pounding in her chest. Vos didn't seem to hear her.

"Ventress," Quinlan said again, his voice a low, poisonous hiss, as if each syllable were contemptuous to him and left a foul taste in his mouth. "You are a liar, and a _murderer_!" The rush of blood in Ventress ears was so loud, so pounding that she could barely hear him. Even the struggling Ahsoka went still, and Ventress could feel the strong pulse in the Togruta's wrist suddenly seem to stop, and then begin again so quick it nearly hummed as the two women looked at the Jedi Master, his eyes glowing a fierce yellow in the shadows of his face.

She couldn't take her eyes away from his face, cold and twisted with anger, hatred radiating off of him like heat, the once soft, warm brown of his eyes stained with the yellow and red fury of the Sith. _She_ had done this. It may have been Kenobi that struck the match, but she had started the fire, fed the flames until it blazed within this former Jedi. She taught him the Dark Side, yes, but that wasn't it. Vos would have come to it on his own, but _this_...they were going to use the Dark Side to destroy the Sith, and it seemed like now, he had joined them. Dooku lived. The war would continue, and all because Asajj Ventress had lied to him to stoke the flames.

" _Master_!" Ahsoka cried, wrenching herself from Ventress' gasp and rushing forward, but stopping a moment later when the lightsaber in Vos' hand ignited a brilliant green. She shook when Vos' eyes fell on her, and she held up her Master's weapon in a hand she tried and failed to keep steady. "Y-you lost this," she stuttered, a small, nervous smile on her lips, and Quinlan looked at her with a mixture of confusion and longing. There was a spark there, faint and nearly indistinguishable, but Ventress could see the shadow of his old self inside the man that stood before them.

"Ahsoka..." Quinlan said softly, his voice warm and rich and loving and the girl trembled, biting her lip as she tried to keep the tears away. He extended his free hand and the lightsaber the Togruta held in her open palms rose and drifted to Vos' waiting grasp. "Stay out of the way, my Padawan," he whispered as the second green blade thrummed to life and the furious gaze drifted back to Ventress.

"This isn't you, Vos!" Ventress cried desperately, her raspy tones quivering with emotion and fear thick and deep as the Dark Side that sat heavy upon Quinlan's shoulders.

"This is _exactly_ me!" he shouted, the blades extended and crossed out before him. "It's exactly who I want to be! You gave me this cup, _Ventress_ , you made me drink from it!"

"You are stronger than this!" she shouted back desperately, looking out of the corner of her eye at Ahsoka, who seemed to be struggling with that to do. "You know the dangers of the Dark Side, you know what it can do if you reach too deep!"

" _As do you_!" he snarled in return. "I've seen it consume you, I've seen you _kill my Master_."

Ventress sucked in a sharp breath, her gaze not breaking away from the enraged man as he slowly advanced. She had nowhere to back up to, and time was running out. They had to leave. "I couldn't tell you, Quinlan!" she said, her voice trembling, he back flat up against the wall behind her. "You needed the right motivation to spur you against Dooku, to give you ste strength you needed! And then we became closer, and...a-and I was _afraid_ to tell you the truth." Those gold eyes narrowed, and she could feel the pulse of darkness around him grow stronger, and she could barely hold back the tears that threatened to fall. This was a good man, and _she_ made him into this. "I was afraid I would lose you if I did!"

Vos stopped his advance, and the tips of the green blades wavered. He was listening. "No," he choked. "You _never_ cared about me. You used me, helped to turn me into a weapon so you could finally slay your hated Master. You aren't strong enough to do it on your own, you needed _me_!"

"Don't fool yourself, Vos, you came to _me_!" she said frantically, her palms flat against the wall behind her. "You would have gone anyway and you would have gotten yourself _killed_! I taught you what I did to _save_ you! A-and if I didn't care about you, Ahsoka and I wouldn't be here now, risking our lives to _save you_."

There was truth in that, and Vos could feel it, could sense it not just in Ventress, but in his Padawan as well. Ahsoka wouldn't lie to him. But Ventress...

He shook his head to clear the notion. Ventress was a manipulator and a deceiver, and he wasn't the first man she had betrayed. She turned her back on Obi-Wan as well. "You are _lying_!" he shouted, pointing the blade toward her chest. "Everyone warned me about you, and I was too smitten to listen to any of them! That was your plan, wasn't it!?"

"No! It's true the Dark Side has made lying... _easy_ for me, but I turned away from all of that!"

" _Did you_?" Vos asked coldly, his heart pounding in his chest. "You lied to me! You told me it was Dooku when you knew you're the one that killed Master Tholme!"

"I know what I did was wrong, and I'm _so sorry_ , Quinlan!" She choked and couldn't continue when she felt wetness on her cheeks that spilled from her eyes, but the man stopped too, a longing, almost tender look in his eyes. "I never meant to hurt you like this! How was I supposed to tell you the truth?"

"You should have trusted me," Quinlan whispered, his blade lowering slightly, and for just a moment, Ventress was given the space to breathe.

"You're right..." She said softly. "And I'm sorry. I'm sorry for all of it."

"Master..." Ahsoka said softly, stepping forward carefully, her hands out in a calming gesture as if she were approaching a wild, angry animal. "Please, come home."

"We can be together," Ventress added when it looked like the man would lower his weapon. "Just like we wanted. If I could change the past, I would. Please, all I want is a future with _you_." The yellow eyes that were roving over her suddenly narrowed, and there was a sharp whip of the Force, a sudden spike of cold that told her she had said the wrong thing.

"That," he said softly, "is the biggest lie of all." She barely had time to activate her lightsabers before the green blades slashed down on her, the strong, heavy strokes sending sparks flying as they clashed with her red. He quickly reeled around, cutting straight across toward her neck in an effort to sever her head, Ventress ducked under the blades and they connected with the wall, leaving long, molten scars in the dark metal, and with a howl of rage, he turned on Ventress and charged her. She barely had time to dodge, and the frantic calls from Ahsoka alerted her to the urgency at which they needed to leave. Their time was nearly up. They had to go.

"Vos, you can control this!" she tried again, frantic as she began to retreat, swinging her blades to block each aggressive strike that seemed to grow faster and stronger the longer he went on, the more his wrath grew, and Vos showed no signs of tiring or hearing her frantic cries. Ventress, however, was putting everything she had into her defensive, trying to direct Vos with her retreat, which was proving to be difficult under the relentless assault. She was trying to do too much at once, defend against the flurry, keep her focus, lead Vos outside to where the bounty hunters were, try _not_ to hurt him, while Quinlan had no such obstacles. His entire focus was dedicated to killing her.

She slipped, on what, she couldn't say, and tried to dodge out of the way, but she was too slow, and Vos too powerful, too fast to be stopped. Both blades descended, and when Ventress thought it was over, the green blades of the Padawan darted out to protect her, making a small circle around the Master's weapon and opening his guard, sending him off-balance for a fraction of a second while he recovered his balance, but it was enough for Ventress to leap to her feet.

" _Stay out of my way, Ahsoka_!" Vos shouted, and young Tano bit her lip, her blades held defensively before her, and she shook her head.

"No, Master. Not this time. I can't watch you murder someone else."

With a howl of fury, Quinlan beat his lightsabers against the Padawan's green, and taking a cue from Ventress, began to retreat, leading the enraged man out toward the landing pad. They needed help, and the bounty hunters could give them the aid they needed to subdue the raging man. They just needed to get him outside.

"There is nothing but treachery in the Dark Side, Quinlan!" Ventress said as she blocked the arching blades, she and the Padawan beside defending the other from the wild, vicious strikes.

" _You_ taught me that!" Vos snarled. "Obi-Wan showed me the truth, he showed me what you really are!"

"Did he tell you who sent me to kill your Master?" she asked, reaching across to catch his blade as it angled toward Ahsoka's head, allowing the girl to safely duck out of the way.

"I won't hear anymore of your lies, Ventress!" He attacked harder, faster, his rage driving his power to terrifying new heights, but she couldn't stop. He wouldn't see reason, not now, but she would make him hear the whole truth of it. The blades clashed and locked, and he pressed hard against her, and for the first time since her hurried retreat, Ventress pushed back against him.

"It was Kenobi," she whispered above the hiss of the lightsabers, and for just a moment, she felt Quinlan waver as doubt and confusion wormed its way into him. The golden eyes narrowed as the notion died within him, but Ventress knew how the Dark Side worked. The idea, the _doubt_ had been planted. If they could just get him to the ship...

She was suddenly thrown back, her temporary lack of focus costing her as Vos pushed out with the Force, sending both her and Ahsoka flying backwards, the two women striking metal so hard it bent on impact and caved in, the heavy doors leading out to the loading bay flung open wide when the women and the Force crashed against it. It was painful, terribly so, but a moment later, Ventress was on her feet, her lightsabers deactivated and back on her waist as she pulled Ahsoka up, and the two women took off running. The additional space was welcome and entirely necessary, and both women were fast and agile. They could keep ahead of Vos if they didn't delay, the few extra seconds enough to mobilize the bounty hunters to take stunning shots at the enraged Kiffar. If he was on the ship, if they could just _talk_ , if she could make him understand, Ventress knew she could pull him back.

They didn't look behind them as they sprinted out toward the _Slave I_ , the bounty hunters already gathered around it, the ship's engines already roaring and ready for take off. They knew Vos was behind them, and knowing how close would only serve to make them more nervous when the situation called for focus. All hunters remained on the ground outside the ship, taking cover and shooting back at the droids that were slowly closing in, but nobody seemed to be paying the droids much mind. They had their attention elsewhere, and Fett stood on point far out before the other bounty hunters, his blaster rifle raised and shooting short burst volleys and shouting almost frantic commands at the others. Fett almost seemed...concerned, which struck Ventress as odd. The boy, though young, was rarely nervous about anything. As she rushed closer to them, she began to shout for them to help her with Vos, to divert their fire away from the droids and help her forcibly save the renegade Jedi, but she stopped, almost skidded to a halt when she saw what Fett was so concerned about.

The Mandalorian stood before them, his armor painted black as night and red as blood, his movements graceful and experienced, and for a moment, Ventress thought it was Kenobi. He was fast, strong, stood the same height, so far as she could tell when compared to Count Dooku, the towering Sith standing close and defending the Mandalorian warrior from the rapid suppressing fire of the bounty hunters as they slowly advanced. As they drew closer, the Mandalorian's blaster rifle raining hell upon the hunters, Ventress saw that the armor lacked the distinctive patterns and markings of Kenobi's armor. _This_ was Cody, his clone commander, confirmed a moment later when the man drew a lightsaber from behind him and the blade ignited brilliant blue. The presence of Cody could only mean one thing.

Kenobi wasn't far off.

" _We have to run_!" Ventress shouted to the hunters, and a few of them looked behind them to see her sprinting toward the ship, and immediately turned their blasters and aimed in Ventress' direction, opening fire as she passed on Vos, the Kiffar immediately stopped by the rapid fire, forced to deflect and his movements slowed considerably as he loudly cursed. With the fire divided, their enemy slowly began closing in on them, and the hunters got the message that it was time to run. The mission had failed. Ahsoka and Ventress rushed forward to help cover the hunters shooting at Dooku and Cody from the clone's returned fire while Highsinger ran onto the _Slave I_. When the ship lifted off the ground, the hunters ceased their fire and sprinted toward the extended ramp as the ship lifted off.

When Ahsoka and Ventress' feet hit the ramp, they turned, sabers raised and ready to cover their escape when their eyes widened as they watched the blue lightsaber cut the barrel of Boba Fett's rifle in two. The Togruta nearly jumped back down to the ground to help, stopped only when Ventress grabbed her arm in a bruising grip and refused to let go. The young bounty hunter, closest to the thick of the action, hadn't been fast enough to get away, and when he turned to run now, igniting the jetpack on his back, he only got a few feet off the ground when the rockets sparked as they were shot by the clone, hissed their objections, and exploded, throwing the boy violently back to the ground. He tried to get up, clearly dazed from the impact, and was forced back down to the ground by Cody's boot, the clone leaning his weight on the boy's chest to keep him pinned, his lightsaber pointed directly at the T-shaped visor of his father's helmet.

As they gained altitude, the two women watched Vos come stand by Dooku's side, lightsabers in hand and watching the ship calmly, coldly as they left. Vos could not be saved, not today, and nor could Boba Fett, a fact made very clear by the bounty hunters when the _Slave I_ 's alarms began to blare. Serenno's defensive cannons had locked on to them. The ramp closed, and the ship bolted away from the palace and out of the range of the powerful cannons, and Ventress and Ahsoka sat huddled in the hold, silent and wondering what to do next.


	93. Embers

Obi-Wan sat cross-legged before the large window in Dooku's study, his eyes closed, his breathing deep and even, the Code of the Sith in the ancient tongue on his lips, his consciousness lost deep within the Force. Makeb hadn't burned. Makeb was mostly water, and the land it had _couldn't_ burn, being composed mostly of rock and mineral, but the population had been executed all the same through the joint efforts of Mand'alor Bo-Katan and Barriss Offee in her first test as an agent of the Sith. It had been wildly successful, and while the planet couldn't burn, its cities were shown to be susceptible to the violent explosions of the bombs that Offee had crafted. The girl had proven to be adept at the skill, her talent enhanced by a close friendship with Anakin Skywalker, and his love for machines and mechanics had taught the clever Mirialan a great deal, all information she used to devastating effect in her own creations.

Kessel hadn't burned either. When Cody had returned to his Master's side, sanity slowly began to reassert itself. What he had on his hands was an opportunity, and as Cody had pointed out, only half of the planet was occupied by the Pykes in the form of the notoriously brutal spice mines. The other half was lush and vibrant and populated by beautiful sanctuaries ruled by the Kessel royal family, and while they recognized the brutal conditions of the mines in the northern hemisphere and the criminal element that ruled there, they turned a blind eye. Kenobi didn't know if this was due to greed or weakness on the part of the people of Kessel, but it ultimately didn't matter. The presence of a new and greater power would bring not only the planet, but the people under sway of the Sith, and were he to occupy the planet, he would have a close and powerful foothold right on the edge of Hutt Space. His attack was immanent. His revenge was almost complete.

Thousands were slaughtered in the spice mines, be it slaves or the criminals that stayed there, and with the threat of the Mandalorian judgement hanging above them, the people on the untouched southern hemisphere began to give up the Pykes living within the sanctuaries in order to save themselves, the lessons from Oba Diah and Ord Mantell keenly felt. Kenobi saw the full cooperation of the Royal family as they grounded the ships on the planet, giving their own security force the authority to destroy any ship that attempted to leave. By the end of the day, the Pyke presence on Kessel had been eradicated, the spice mines left desolate with the corpses of a hundred thousand people, and the Mandalorians, led by their Shadow King, were hailed as liberators and heroes. But most importantly, Kenobi had captured a Pyke named Fife, who had been absent from Oba Diah at the time the Mandalorians had attacked and remained the last of the syndicate's leaders whose death was unaccounted for. With nowhere to go, the remainder of his criminal enterprise had fled to their outpost on Kessel in the hopes of gaining support from their nearby Hutt allies, but Gardulla, Jabba, and the rest of the Hutt Council were trying desperately to wash their hands of the Shadow Collective before they burned as well.

The Jedi could do nothing, though they did appear, and much to Kenobi's disappointment, it _wasn't_ Skywalker that flew into orbit around Kessel. He wasn't sure who it was, but it didn't matter. Skywalker's ship remained stationed where it was, in the skies above Tatooine, and hadn't moved at the sign of either attack. It was... _distressing_. It wasn't like Skywalker to remain at a distance, especially not when the threat of planetary burning was a very real possibility, and Kenobi had expected the boy to continue to be impulsive as he had been. After all, he had chased the Mandalorian fleet for some time after the slaughter on Oba Diah, and Obi-Wan expected to continue leading him by the nose where ever he wished.

The sudden change of tactic could only have three explanations. First, the Jedi Council had called him off the Mandalorian's trail by orders of Chancellor Palpatine, who had made it very clear that the Republic didn't have the resources to get involved with criminals at the time, and if the Mandalorians wished to tangle with the galaxy's filth, than it wasn't going to be the Republic that rushed to their aid. Alternatively, Skywalker could have had a weakness for his home world that Kenobi didn't anticipate. He would have thought that the emotional Jedi would have an aversion to the planet that made him a slave, but as Anakin sat like a guard dog over the desert world, it seemed unlikely that was the case. It could also be that Skywalker had relinquished control of the mission's tactics to his Admiral, Tarkin, a man that not only had a reputation for brutal efficiency, but had attracted the attention of Darth Sidious, which meant that the man was not only distressingly good at what he did, but had a future within the Sith Empire.

Choosing to remain at a correctly assumed future target instead of continuing on a wild chase was a calculated risk that would mean the sacrifice of entire worlds in exchange for a guaranteed chance to intercept the Shadow King, and it gave them a chance to lay a trap, one that Kenobi could feel closing in even now. As his targets were hit, his enemies destroyed, his revenge nearing its completion, he could feel the noose begin to tighten around his neck, a clear pull of the Force that was beginning to shout to him in warning. Sidious had been right, as he so often was. His wild, untempered, single-minded quest for revenge against Satine's murderers had left the Jedi unchecked and unattended, allowing them the opportunity to lay a trap for the Sith Lord, and now, when he found himself sane enough to notice, he felt it may be too late to avoid it.

Of course, he wasn't undefended, and his newfound awareness of the potential situation gave him a chance to take actions against it. The Force was with him, after all, and while it still burned with fury, threatening to overtake him the moment his tenuous control slipped, with each successive victory, he could feel the flame ease, his insanity slowly ebb in its intensity, and while he still felt its pull, the madness deep within him laughing and calling for flames and destruction of the entire galaxy, Kenobi slowly began to embrace the pain of his reality. Satine was dead. His son was dead. There was anger, yes, a rage that drove him toward unrelenting revenge against Maul and his Shadow Collective, but now as his revenge was nearing completion, the wrath began to fade, the flames reduced to smouldering embers on blackened earth thick with ash that left nothing left to burn. There was a void within him that was once filled with Satine and the love he held for her, then by the inferno of his consuming madness, and now... _nothing_. It was a blackened void rife with embers that struggled to find something to catch fire to, but soon, he knew even that would fade. It was depression, in its purest form, and without the Sith, without the guidance of his Master, Kenobi knew he would have very little left.

He had considered going to Sidious and asking him for the power to bring her back to him, but he quickly discounted it. Even the Sith could only do so much. The emptiness was maddening in its own right, and where he saw flames before, now _everything_ had turned to ash, bitter and distasteful. Food lost its flavor, though he still rarely ate, sleep was no longer restful, though he rarely slept, the Force ran cold where there used to be comfort, and underneath it all was bitter rage, ever-present and consuming, cold where it used to be fire and passion and he _ached_ for it. His madness had made him wild and untamable, but in his depression, he could feel his connection to the Force grow stronger, more powerful, centering him in a way that he hadn't been since he first embraced the Sith. Satine's death had made him stronger, and now that he felt his madness beginning to fade, that strength became apparent, shining and burnished by the blood of Satine Kryze and their unborn child. It was... _intoxicating_.

He was changed, yes, but within him, he felt a return to form. His old feelings of hatred and betrayal toward the Jedi, once drowned out in the wash of cruel delight in his embrace of the Dark Side, was pulled to the forefront. Long ago, he once instructed Ventress that the path to power, the Way of the Sith wasn't just hatred and anger and pain, but the embrace of all passions, all emotions, deep and unrelenting, so unlike the cold detachment of the Jedi. In his wrath, he had become unbalanced, dangerously so, embracing the pain of loss and the fury that accompanied it to the exclusion of all else, and it set him on a path of destruction that clashed with the careful, manipulative machinations of the Sith. Now, as the madness began to fade, Kenobi embraced not just the anger and hatred for the ones that did this, but the actual sadness of his profound loss, and through it, he felt his strength grow, his passions deepen, and the small, sliver of light, that warm comfort of the Force within him gently reminded that this too shall pass.

Though not yet. Even now as he sat before the wide windows and looked out at Serenno's courtyard bathed in the light of its two moons, he could feel the insanity deep within him, still burning, still raging, still aching to be free. Kenobi knew it as his body's craving to be taken by the Dark Side, ruled by it, bathed in its unlimited power, but he resisted. Any fool could be controlled and consumed, as he had allowed, but the Sith held dominion over even the untamable Dark Side. He knew he would slip again, knew his sanity to be temporary, but so was the madness. For now, he held fast, his mind quickly plotting and laying his plans, orchestrating the execution of the Sith Imperative in a way that would best please his Master. It would be over soon.

The Jedi would suffer, and the Jedi would die. Every single day, he took steps to ensure that, and his acquisition of Quinlan Vos and Barriss Offee had brought him even closer to this end. What's more, the seduction of Padmé Amidala spelled the end of Anakin Skywalker, and it was only a matter of time before he watched his counterpart in the Force face the same ruin he did. Perhaps it was driven by his madness, but Kenobi didn't care. If he couldn't have the love of his life, the child they had created together, than _nobody_ should have it. Not Quinlan Vos, deprived now of Asajj Ventress, and certainly not Anakin Skywalker. He had lost Padmé, and would continue to lose her, even though he may not know it yet. Kenobi would have her, again and again until the sight of Skywalker's love _sickened_ the Jedi, until he looked at her and could only see the Sith's poisonous touch on her willing body. He would watch helpless as the Sith's seed took root within her, and Skywalker would be deprived not just of his pretty little wife, but of his children as well. It would destroy him, as it had destroyed Kenobi, and the Sith Lord couldn't _wait_ to see it.

Padmé was a means to an end. A strangely comforting one, but that was all. What happened to the children he would plant inside her was of no consequence, though Kenobi suspected that Sidious would want the child she would bring into this world. That was fine. This child, the boy he saw in his visions was a substitute, a pale imitation of the son he had lost, and Sidious was welcome to him, if that was what he pleased. Even still, the Force had shown Kenobi that he would have a hand in raising the child, and he was not one to deny the pull of the Force. Not now. Not ever. He wasn't sure what else the Force could do to him, in what manner it could possibly bite back at him, but he wasn't ready to test that.

He would have to plan a trip to Padmé soon. He hadn't felt her conceive, but even while he was away from her, he could feel her lust, her desire, her confusion, her desperation, and it delighted him. The dark pull of Darth Sidious may have pushed her to act upon her lust for her first love, but now that the deed was done, Kenobi found her torn between her Jedi love and her Sith lover, even though she hated herself for it. He couldn't explain it, but he felt... _drawn_ to her. Perhaps it was her turmoil, the mess of emotions and passions that mixed with darkness and light within her, but regardless of what it was, Kenobi felt comforted by her, a warm, gentle soothing of his aching soul from being near her, intensified greatly when he had been inside her. He felt it in the pull of the Force, though he couldn't identify if, perhaps, it was Sidious' influence as well, praising him and soothing him for being complicit in his manipulations of the girl, but he felt it was something more. The Force had something planned for Padmé, and it was _vastly_ important, though if it had shown him what that something was, he didn't recognize it. All he knew was that Padmé was central to the plans of the Force, and he had to be near it.

He breathed slow, deep, and hardly at all to the outside observer. Being as lost in the Force as he was, the physical meant little, but bit by bit, he withdrew, dragging himself from the rushing river of the Force to she shores of the mortal realm, and with it came the awareness of his surroundings. It was slow at first as he gradually eased himself back into his body, a vessel streaked with darkness, grief and insanity, and as he became aware of his deep breathing, his powerful command of the Force, the sharp stab of pain within him, the oppressive grief that sat heavy upon him, he became aware of the teeming life on Serenno. The calling wildlife, vast and untamed within the forests of the planet shone like a million million candles, embers in the wind of the Force. Tightening his focus, he felt the life within the palace.

Quinlan, somewhere deep below, wrathful and confused, his darkness untamed and wild like the man that commanded it. Dooku, quiet and studious and in deep meditation, and when Kenobi reached out and brushed against his consciousness, the Count grasped back, his grip cold as ice, but not unkind, strong and unyielding, but the chill tempered the flames that burned deep inside him. Kenobi's focus tightened even further, narrowing to the room he was in, the dark presence of Barriss Offee right beside him, her appearance small within the Force, timid to look at, though the dark she sat in trembled with power barely contained, a deep, pervasive anger and consuming hate that sat tense and waiting to be unleashed. Twin presences stood nearby, identical at a passing glance, but closer inspection betrayed the differences of the wealth of their experiences, one stained with bitterness and calm acceptance, almost shock, and the other running deep with darkness, a confidence brought from hundreds of victories and an unshakable loyalty to the one that broke his chains. And right behind him...the flickering, unconscious presence of Fife, the lone Pyke that had survived the slaughter.

His eyes had been opened, sightless before, but as he withdrew from the Force, the golden gaze glowed with life, observing the courtyard impassively. To others, it may have been beautiful, but to him, it simply was. He breathed deep, the expansion of his chest burning slightly as his lungs rushed full with air. "Tell me about Anakin Skywalker," he said softly, and the girl beside him jumped slightly, squeaking in surprise. They had been sitting, had been silent for so long, and she hadn't felt the Sith Lord return to himself.

"Anakin, Master?" she repeated softly, but Kenobi didn't move. The question didn't need an answer. Barriss took a deep breath. "He's intelligent, Master. Much smarter than most give him credit for. His reckless and impulsive nature makes him appear to be thoughtless, but he uses the Force to guide him instinctually."

"The Force naturally flows toward darkness now," Obi-Wan said softly, and he felt the girl shift beside him, her eyes downcast and listening intently. "If he truly followed the will of the Force, he'd be drawn to the Dark Side as you were, Barriss."

She was silent for a long while as she considered it, and slowly nodded. "As you say, Master. The Jedi _have_ lost the way. They no longer follow the Force as they were meant to." Kenobi nodded, but was otherwise silent. "Anakin is a prodigy with mechanics of all kinds, and he's the best pilot I have ever seen."

"Better than me?"

"I haven't seen you fly, Master, but I confess to having difficulty imagining anyone better than him." The air grew colder in the Sith Lord's displeasure, and Barriss shivered, gripping her cloak closer to her against the chill. "The Masters all call him a vergence in the Force, and I believe them. He is frightfully powerful, he excels in lightsaber combat, and-"

"I didn't bring you here to exalt his virtues, Barriss," the Sith Lord snapped, his temper rising with each word the Mirialan spoke, and she trembled when she felt the Force close around her, gently laying her hand over his on her leg and lightly stroking his arm with long fingers.

"Forgive me..." she whispered, her heart pounding in her chest as she felt the blaze of power swell around her, the strain in the Sith's tense muscles tight with the threat of his insanity returning if he let go for even a moment. "Forgive me," she said again, less fearful this time. "Since the war began, Anakin and I haven't speant much time together, even less so when he was knighted. I don't know if I have the information you are seeking."

"But you do," Kenobi said softly, and the tension fled from him, the Force once again under his control. "What I need to know isn't what he is _now_ , but what he was. In our past lies all our weaknesses, and I would know Anakin Skywalker's."

"...you have something in mind," she stated, not asked, and the Sith Lord nodded.

"He sits above Tatooine, the planet of his birth. He has puzzled out that I will attack that cursed desert, and he has stopped his pursuit of my forces in order to defend it. I find this move... _uncharacteristic_."

"I disagree."

Kenobi chuckled. "He has condemned thousands to the slaughter in his defense of the planet."

"Would any lives be saved were he to follow you instead?" she asked, her head tilted to the side and questioningly observing the Sith.

"No, but impossible odds haven't stopped him before."

She shrugged. "He cares nothing for Tatooine. He has family there."

"His mother." The girl slowly shook her head.

"No, Anakin's mother died before the war started." She gasped as her heart began to race, those golden eyes turned on her and seeming to look right into her, and she could feel the Sith grasp at her mind, waves of pleasure rushing through her as she felt Kenobi's presence stroke her, slow and gentle, almost seductive in how softly he coaxed her. "Tuscan raiders killed her," she gasped, a shaking hand raking over the silken robes covering Kenobi's chest.

"Do you know what happened?" he asked, his smooth voice almost hypnotic to her pleasure-hazed mind, and she nodded desperately. Behind him, he could hear Cody quietly admonish the boy at his side, the teen's presence flushed and heated with the beginnings of physical longing. Kenobi rolled his eyes. Puberty was hell on _everyone_ , it seemed.

"Anakin went with his brother to rescue her, and when she died, he killed them."

" _All_ of them?" Kenobi said in disbelief, and the girl shook her head.

"Some. Five or six, I think. His brother stopped him."

Something was wrong. Kenobi closed his eyes, felt the flowing of the Force, and found it thick with tension that he was feeling as well. What Barriss was describing was an unmistakable turn toward the Dark Side, not just a defense, but a _murder_ , a killing born of revenge for the death of the mother that he knew Anakin held so dear. And yet, Skywalker was a vergence, a shining beacon in the Force, a gift of the light to which Kenobi stood opposed. How was it that Skywalker could remain a Jedi after such a thing? How was it he could be brought to cope not just with the loss of a woman he loved, but with the reality of his dark deeds that sprang from it? Loss and the fear of it had driven Kenobi to embrace the Dark Side, but Skywalker it seemed had simply brushed it off. _How_. Kenobi sucked in a sharp breath and held it, coming to the answer even as he thought of the question. It was Qui-Gon. Nothing else made sense.

For a long time now, Obi-Wan had felt something was going on with his former Master, something beyond his blinding presence, the searing pain of the light he commanded, the strength of the Force that cloaked him, the embrace of something mysterious and forbidden that not even death could penetrate. Kenobi had never seen its like, and its meaning had been made clear to him the longer he meditated on the meaning of Qui-Gon's transcendence. The Jedi, unconventional and rebellious, disinclined to follow the will of the Council, unconcerned by the whims of the Republic, had become one with the Force as no Jedi in living memory had, and in doing such, had touched immortality. Obi-Wan truly believed this to be the case, could feel the importance of the man not just in his presence, but in his visions as well. Qui-Gon stood on the edge, a shining beacon in a tide of darkness, the sole light holding back something fearsome and indistinct, something that must never be unleashed, not just a scourge on the galaxy, but upon the will of the Force as well.

Kenobi wasn't sure if this was because the Force was warning him away from Qui-Gon's death, or of it was hinting at something larger, but now that he knew of Anakin's slip, only to be caught by Qui-Gon Jinn, the meaning was slowly beginning to make itself apparent. The unsteady, emotional Anakin Skywalker, too old to train, too powerful to be ignored, had been trained not by the Council, but by _Qui-Gon_ , perhaps the only true Jedi left in the galaxy that followed the will of the Force over the will of the Republic they served. In doing such, Qui-Gon altered and adjusted Skywalker's training, bringing him up not just to follow the Force, but to manage the very human emotions that raced through him. It made Skywalker... _measured_ , in a way, his passionate personality tempered not with the Jedi's repression of their emotions, but with Qui-Gon's instructions to actively _deal_ with them. It presented a serious problem. Perhaps the seduction of Padmé Amidala wouldn't have the devastating effect that Kenobi had hoped. If Skywalker could simply _recover_ , it was possible that _nothing_ the Sith threw at him could touch the young Jedi Knight.

The vision flashed before him, of Qui-Gon, his body glowing a ghostly pale blue, standing on the edge of the abyss, and in a red flash of light, the Jedi faded, and the rushing of the Force howled in his ears as darkness was unleashed. The Force felt unbalanced, strained and tense and reeling to correct itself, and through it all came the face in flames, and with it, the roar of the Force was silenced, replaced instead with slow, even breathing, deep and rhythmic, the sound muffled and unnatural, as if filtered through a machine or a respirator. The meaning was ultimately lost on Kenobi, though he had the strong feeling that somehow, the tide Qui-Gon held back was related directly to Anakin Skywalker.

"He just told you this?" Obi-Wan asked softly, his breathing becoming fast and shallow as he struggled for control, the vision of flames refusing to leave him, the fires licking the edge of everything he saw as madness tried to reassert itself.

"He's always been very frank and open about...well, everything. Master Qui-Gon always supported his... _attachments_ ," she said almost bitterly, and Kenobi found himself chuckling at the girl, though he suspected it may have been less in amusement and more a result of his insanity. Luminara's touch on the girl was plain to see, and it was no surprise that the fallen Padawan would be disdainful of the Jedi's attachments when her own Master had been so good at letting go. "He made no move to hide his struggles. Not from me, in any case, and certainly not from Master Qui-Gon. Anakin's emotions were something of an expectation that Qui-Gon always supported and helped him manage."

"And his brother?"

Barriss shrugged. "Qui-Gon allowed him to maintain his family ties." She scoffed, her face twisting with disgust. "He's _hardly_ a Jedi. A vergence in the Force, supposedly destined to stand against the Sith, against _you_ , and he doesn't follow the Code _at all_."

"Which is why he's so successful, I imagine..." he mumbled, groaning as he rose to his feet, tensing his muscles to stretch them as he stood. Without turning around, his eyes fixed on the pale moons in the sky, he raised his hand, channeled the Dark Side, and with a frantic gasp of pain, the hurried shuffling of feet upon the ground, and the brief begging of a creature that had suffered too much pain, the Pyke, Fife, rose into the air. His movements were sluggish, the man only semi-lucid as he was dragged to consciousness by a sharp pull of the Force, and immediately found himself hauled to his feet by the neck by an unseen force. He grasped at his throat and the light pressure that pressed against his windpipe, not choking, but uncomfortable. Panic and fear brought him quickly to full alertness, and once again, he tried to beg, plea for his life, but Fife knew it was futile. The Pykes had supported the wrong man, and now, they had all paid for it.

"Cody," Kenobi said, turning from the window and walking down the short ways to meet the clone, the Pyke pulled behind him with the grip of the Force, his toes dragging along the ground as he scrambled for a better footing, but there was none to be found. Gold eyes turned to the clone's young charge, and the teen averted his eyes. "What is that?"

Cody simply shrugged. "The leader of the bounty hunters that attacked us with Ventress."

"This _child_ leads a group of bounty hunters?" Kenobi laughed harshly, the Pyke struggling behind him. "Not a very good one, it would seem. What's your name, boy?"

"I don't answer to _you_!" the teen snarled, and a moment later, the boy was on his back, the heel of Cody's boot digging against his chest, and the teen gasped for breath, trying in vain to push the man off.

"Forgive him, my Lord," Cody mumbled. "He hasn't learned _manners_ yet. But he will."

"You intend to keep him?" An almost playful smirk came across Cody's face, his head rocking back and forth as he seemed to consider the idea, though it was clear from the confident ease he exuded that he already knew the answer.

"I don't know, sir," he drawled, digging his heel harder against the boy, and the teen began coughing. "He _is_ an unaltered clone of the template Jango Fett, and, _well_..." He grinned. "I do look a _great_ deal like his father." His foot removed, the boy quickly scrambled to his feet, rubbing his chest and glaring at Cody, but the anger, the aggression only lasted for a moment. Obi-Wan felt the change in him, the sharp snap of anger fade instantly into the dull pain of loss, a longing ache, the uncertainty of being a teenager far out of his depth. After all, within the room he stood in, a Pyke was gasping for air, choked by invisible hands commanded by a man that reeked with power, a girl not much his senior stood alluringly close, who had only moments earlier been flushed with physical pleasure, and a man in the armor of his Mandalorian heritage had captured him, a man with the face of his father, and the teen didn't seem to have the heart to run.

Kenobi carefully observed the boy, his eyes downcast, his entire being almost seeming to crave guidance. He was a child, after all, no matter how much life had hardened him. "Your name, child," he said again, much kinder this time.

"...Boba Fett," he said softly, not meeting the eyes of the man that spoke to him, though he could feel them burning on him, observing, looking right through him, and the teen shivered. There would be no secrets here. The clone, Cody, had said as much after his capture.

"Do you know you are a clone, Boba Fett?" The boy nodded, and a flash of anger finally forced the teen to look up and meet the blazing gold eyes of the reigning Lord.

"But I am _nothing_ like them!" he shouted, pointing at Cody, who looked smug as could be.

"I believe you," Kenobi said, a soft smile on his lips, his body relaxing as he spoke to the child, and the Pyke behind him gasped, renewed his writhing as the grip loosened. He was no closer to being released, though. "You have seen the Republic's clones, then. You grew up among them, I have been given to understand." He grinned when the boy's angry eyes widened in shock. "I know a great deal more than you suspect. After all, I work closely with Count Dooku, and I _know_ you have met him."

The boy nodded, swallowed hard, and forgot his anger, the danger of where he stood hitting him hard, but he somehow didn't feel afraid. "My father raised me himself. He said I was his true son, these... _replicas_ were just a cheep imitation made to serve. My father would _never_ serve!"

"You were raised differently, yes," Kenobi said, nodding. "And it's true you are nothing like them. They're simply slaves, after all. So you tell me," he drawled, putting his hand on the boy's shoulder and pointing toward Cody, Fett following the Sith Lord's hand with his eyes and feeling almost hazy when that elegant, powerful hand laid on him. "Is _he_ anything like the other clones?"

"...no." And he wasn't, Fett knew. The clone hadn't just bested him, he _continued_ to best him. The way he fought was nothing like how the clones had been trained. It was more focused, more brutal, more like his father...

"Vaabir gar jorhaa'ir Mando'a?" With a gasp, Boba swiftly looked back at the Sith Lord's face in equal parts shock and disbelief, struggling for a moment to understand what had been said to him, though he knew the meaning. He just hadn't heard Mando'a spoken to him since his father died. Those golden eyes, for just a moment, looked almost distant, empty and melancholy, as if the words felt as foreign and painfully nostalgic to him as they did to Boba. He nodded.

"Elek," he said, his voice an almost breathless gasp. "Pehea cuyir bic gar ganar olaror at jorhaa'ir Mando'a?" _How is it you have come to speak Mando'a_?

He didn't answer for a moment, and possibly wouldn't have answered if Cody's hand hadn't come to lay on his shoulder, the strong body tensing from the sudden contact, gentle and comforting, and gold eyes focused back on the boy before him, a small, sad smile coming to his lips. "We are all Mandalorian here. Not by birth, perhaps, but by deed. By _action_ , as all Mandalorians are. I...once ruled over the Mandalorian Empire beside Duchess Satine Kryze, until..." He hissed, knocking the clone's hand off his shoulder. "It's unimportant. Everyone knows what happened."

Kenobi suddenly reeled on the Pyke behind him, the creature rising into the air, gasping and choking as the grasp around his throat tightened, his legs kicking violently as he tried to free himself, but to no avail. Boba stared transfixed at the display of wrath and power, could have sworn he felt the air run cold, confirmed a moment later when his breath exited his lungs in visible puffs, and a moment later, he felt himself dragged backwards by Cody's strong, armored hand, the clone pulling him away from the Sith Lord, his arm draped over the teen's shoulder and a protective hand against his chest. He started to struggle against the man, but stopped quickly when Cody pulled him closer, tense and defensive, and Boba allowed it, the feel of his father too great to ignore, the fearsome visage of Mandalore's Shadow King too awe-inspiring to look away.

His rage spiked, but his vision was clear, free of the insanity that had plagued him, and for the first time in a very long time, Obi-Wan felt the cold, striking clarity of the endless depths of his hatred, the swell of the Dark Side's wrathful pleasure at having the object of his anger in his grasp, personal and intimate, so unlike the detached massacres he had been engaging in as of late. _This_ was what he craved. The feel of a single life in his grasp, his to command, to do with as he pleased. His body filled with sadistic pleasure as he grasped the Pyke's consciousness and dug even deeper, going past the creature's body and seeking him out in the Force itself, so deep, he lost awareness of all around him, both of himself and the occupants of the room, and didn't notice when the door swung open, didn't feel Quinlan as he entered to stare transfixed at the work of his dark Master.

He found it, a dancing flame, sputtering and frantic within the light of the Force, leaping and flaring as if to escape, as if it knew of the intentions of the shadowed hand that reached out toward it, as if it could feel the darkness it would bring as the flame was extinguished. Kenobi reached out, grasped his hands around it, the flame of his life, his presence in the Force licking at his palms, but the man felt no pain, would not burn. With a deep breath, the Sith Lord tightened his hold and drew the Force out of the struggling Pyke, his every cell screaming in protest as the life was drawn out of him. Kenobi drained him far beyond the point that the hapless creature stopped moving, the pull to consume life sucking him in, and he allowed it, his old practice of the lost Sith technique coming easily to his practiced hands. The Force ran dry, and the Sith felt his own ind aching for more, trying to pull water from the stone of the lifeless creature, and with a hiss, he released him, the long-limbed Pyke dropping to the floor with a sickening crack, his presence in the Force reduced to a gaping wound.

His task done, the Dark Side sated and brimming with the stolen life within it, Kenobi sat on the steps, leaned back, and closed his eyes, reveling in the feel of drunkenness, the warm rush brought by the haze of the Force like a drug on his mind, ravaging him with satisfaction and pleasure. He felt intoxicated, drunk and drugged all at once as the Force set to its task, using the life stolen to revitalize the Sith Lord, and Kenobi could feel his aches and pains, old and new, fade into nothingness, and while it healed his body, making him feel younger, stronger than before, it did nothing to heal his mind, the insanity still looming, the void within him still equally dark and ashen. It was no matter. The surge of his powers, the rush brought by the fatal intimacy of his touch upon the Pyke had demonstrated his command of the Force, and the Dark Side mewled in submission, resting within him like a sated beast awaiting the commands of its Master. The insanity, at least for now, was contained.

"How did you do that?!" Boba Fett asked awestruck, giving voice to the feelings of the two Force sensitives in the room as they stared, mouths agape, at their Master. Cody rolled his eyes and pushed the boy forward toward the Sith Lord, and Fett was too weak-kneed to resist.

"We can teach you, boy," Cody said firmly. "Not how to do _that_ , but how to be a true Mandalorian, like your father. You're young and inexperienced, and you can't learn on your own what we can teach you here."

" _Yes_ ," the teen said quickly, far more enthusiastically than he intended, and he flushed deeply and looked away, embarrassed and feeling like little more than a child. "I mean, I _guess_ you could teach me something..."

"My Lord?" Cody asked, again pushing the boy forward, the boy's eyes downcast as the Sith propped himself up on his elbows and stared at him with hazy, glowing eyes. When Boba seemed to object, Cody hissed, "It isn't up to me, boy. If you're to learn from us, you're going to have to ask the man that will be your commander."

Fett bit his lip, took a deep breath, and looked at the Sith. "I _don't_ lose. If you could make a clone do the things I've seen him do..." He took another deep breath, growled in frustration, and ran a hand though his thick hair. "Damn it, you and _him_ , Cody, I guess...well, you're the Shadow King of Mandalore, aren't you?"

"So it's been said..." Kenobi drawled, his accented voice thick with satisfaction.

"Father always talked about Mandalore, said he'd return someday and take me with him to learn how to be a real warrior. So, I guess..."

Kenobi waved his hand in the air, silencing the boy as he leaned back and closed his eyes. "Save the boy the humiliation and take him away, Cody. If you're going to raise a son, you had _better_ teach him how to speak to me."

A slow, wide grin spread across the clone's face as he reached out and grabbed Boba Fett by the shoulder, his grip firm as he led him from the room, speaking in soft, hushed Mando'a to the teen, and Obi-Wan could feel the man's satisfaction through the Force. Denying Cody had always been difficult for Kenobi, and it pleased him to feel the clone's muted elation at getting to train his own protégé. After all, the Sith Lord had felt something from the young bounty hunter. The boy would be of some use, if his genetics had anything to say about it. After all, the boy's father had been one of the finest warriors in the galaxy, which had gotten him selected as the template for Sidious' clone army, and young Boba shared with Kenobi a blistering hatred of the Jedi. All things considered, he was a fortunate find, and adding a fearsome Mandalorian to his cause was appealing.

He felt Barriss slowly move to examine the body of the Pyke, her clever mind trying to grasp exactly what the Sith Lord had just done, and a moment later, he felt Quinlan Vos settle down on the steps beside him, sitting tense and nervous and uncertain. The Kiffar's strong hand laid on Kenobi's chest, his fingers kneading his robes and the muscle beneath it with an almost frantic desperation, as if his friend would simply vanish if he were to let go.

"I heard you failed to kill Ventress," Obi-Wan said softly, and a nervous whine was torn out of Vos' throat, his hand tensing, his presence in the Force nervous and uncertain.

"...yes, Master," he choked. "I did try..." The Sith's hand shot up and grabbed Vos' chin, his gold eyes quickly regaining their sharpness as he pushed aside the pleasure the Force was pulsing with. He needed clarity.

"I can be Master to you when we're training, Quin," he said, harsher than he intended, and he exhaled, relaxing his grip on the man and running a finger down the long scar beside the Kiffar's eye, the mark that he had once placed there himself. "Right now, I'm your friend, because that's what you need." He felt Vos tremble for a moment before he relaxed, releasing his worry and concern as if they were simply bad dreams.

"I might need a lover more," Vos drawled, attempting to be slick, but laughter in his voice ruined the attempted ruse.

""Mm, you'd have to be _really_ good for that." Quinlan laughed, a mixture of good humor and relief as the rest of his tension left, and Kenobi smiled softly as he sat up. "Don't worry about Ventress, Quin. You'll have another shot. The fact that she got away simply means that the Force still has further use for her."

"What could the Force _possibly_ want with that viper?" Vos asked bitterly, rolling his eyes, and the Sith Lord shrugged.

"I don't know. Don't forget, she evaded me _twice_. _Me_! And not just me, but Dooku too." He drummed his fingers against his leg, reached out a hand and called the lightsaber on Quinlan's hand to his open palm. "I let her go on Dathomir so she could suffer and know that she could _never_ escape the Dark Side." He grinned as Vos' face darkened. "That seems to be working out well. Wouldn't you say?"

"Maybe so, but I don't want her to suffer, I want her to _die_."

"She will, my friend," Obi-Wan said softly, patting the man's leg as he rose and he extended a hand to help the Kiffar up. "Patience, Quin. We will see your revenge through to its completion." He turned the lightsaber over in his hands. "It seems you have reacquired your lightsaber." Vos nodded slowly.

"Ahsoka brought it back to me..." He sighed heavily, watching the weapon in the Sith's hand. "If she hadn't been there, I would have killed Ventress. She-"

"Your attachment got in the way?"

"I can't kill Ahsoka," Quinlan whispered, and after a moment, his serious, somber expression gave way to laughter. "But she won't aid Ventress again. Ahsoka's smart, and she saw what sort of a woman Ventress is. She's a liar and a murderer, and she knows now that Ventress used me." He grinned broadly. "You should have heard how she tried to manipulate me, Obi! She was saying the craziest things to try and sway me away from you!"

"She's desperate, Quin, desperation leads people to extremes."

"Yes, but this was outlandish, even for her." The Kiffar laughed again. "She tried to absolve herself of Tholme's death _again_. She fooled me once by saying it was Dooku, and now I know the truth, and she tried to blame _you_. She said _you're_ the one that ordered his execution."

"I am."

Quinlan stared at the Sith, uncertain for a long while that he had heard correctly, but when Kenobi didn't move, did nothing to ease him, Vos felt the cold sink into him, felt his rage build, felt his hands tremble. Obi-Wan had a hand in Tholme's death. Ventress _hadn't_ lied. Vos was so certain that she did, was so convinced that she sought only to plant doubt in his mind, to drive him apart from his friend Obi-Wan in order to get Vos to turn on his Sith allies that he discounted it entirely. However, the damage _had_ been done, and since that day, his mind had been awash in the possibility that perhaps, it was actually Obi-Wan that was responsible. He didn't want to believe it. He _couldn't_ believe it, and as casual as ever, as if he had just been discussing the events of a typical day, Kenobi had confirmed the truth Ventress had told him. If she had been honest about that...what else was she speaking the truth about?

Furious yellow eyes turned on Kenobi, the full wrath of the depths of the Kiffar's hate on his face, and Obi-Wan smirked softly when he saw murder in his friend's eyes. "Do you want to kill me, Quin?" he asked softly, calmly, and the tattooed face twitched in barely controlled rage.

" _Yes_." Kenobi bowed his head, closed his eyes, took a deep breath as he relaxed, his entire being calm and resolved.

"Good..." the Sith Lord whispered, and faster than Vos could see him move, Kenobi's hand shot out and gabbed Quinlan's wrist and he pressed the hilt of his lightsaber into his hand, the metal warm to the touch and comfortable, and the Sith's hands closed around the Kiffar's to make him grab the weapon. Obi-Wan jerked him close, Quinlan's arm extended as Kenobi placed the end of the hilt against his chest right over his heart. " _Do it_."

"W-wha-" He was pulled even closer, so close he could see the jagged lines of red that accented the intense, furious gold of the Sith Lord's eyes, and his hand began to shake when a low, feral growl reverberated through his lightsaber from the man's chest. Kenobi _wasn't_ joking, and this wasn't a test, the Dark Side strong and forceful in its intention.

" _Kill me, Quin_ ," Kenobi snarled again, his voice clear and strong and serious, devoid of the insanity that Vos knew that man suffered from. "You want to kill me, so _do it_. Free me from this pain, Quinlan Vos."

His thumb hovered over the ignition, his hands shaking as he contemplated his task, checked his intentions against the Sith Lord's and found them lacking. His hands shook so hard he thought he may flick the ignition on accident, and imagined for a moment what it would be like for his green blade to pierce through the heart of this Sith Lord, the man he had called friend and brother for as long as he could remember. This was so like his first murder, the murder that Kenobi had helped him commit, and he remembered the rush he had felt then, the swell of power, and he _craved_ it. He thought of what it would be like to feel the life of Obi-Wan Kenobi drain into nothingness, his body lifeless and deprived of the Force he so cherished, the enemy of the Jedi, the man that caused so much pain and grief dead in a moment. It wasn't just vengeance, it was _mercy._ He could do it. He could free Kenobi of the pain, the madness, the grief, he just needed to press the ignition, one slip of the finger, and his friend would lie dead...and the thought _repulsed_ him.

With a strangled cry, Vos tore his hand away and threw the lightsaber to the ground, his breathing hard and fast, and for a moment, Obi-Wan looked almost disappointed. Vos' gaze drifted off to his side when he heard a relieved breath and he saw Barriss, the girl standing with a lightsaber in her hand, the young Mirialan ready to defend the Sith Lord. It was unlikely that he would have been able to kill Kenobi, and even if he had, Offee would have struck him down. After all, he hadn't even felt her come to attention. Kenobi extended his hand, and Vos' lightsaber rose into the air and came to his palm, long fingers closing delicately around the hilt, and without a word, he held it out to Vos. The Kiffar looked at it almost bitterly for a moment before he gently took it from Kenobi's hands.

"Why," he asked, his voice choked as he struggled with a sudden wave of nausea. "Why would you tell me this?"

"Because it's the truth," Kenobi said softly, and Vos shivered at the sincerity, nearly flinched away from it. "I wouldn't lie to you, Quin."

" _Why didn't you tell me_?!" Vos shouted, looking at his calm, composed friend, and he didn't understand how he could be like that in the face of being confronted with betrayal. Obi-Wan should be _upset_ , but...he had just told Vos the truth, hadn't he? It was more than Ventress had done.

"It never came up," Kenobi said softly. "We haven't had much time to talk, and when we have..." The Sith chuckled softly and shook his head, a hand sliding into his sandy blond hair. "I haven't exactly been mentally stable. You know I... _struggle_." When Vos looked like he would object, Kenobi raised a calming hand. "I trust you, Quinlan, which is why I told you now, when it came up. I could have easily lied, and you would have believed me. After all, you have evidence of Ventress' murder of Tholme. All you have against me is my word against hers, and I have _never_ lied to you."

With a whimper, Vos dropped to the floor, drew his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs. He didn't think he could remain standing if he tried, his world was spinning so fast. Kenobi was right, of course. He never _had_ lied to him, had always been open and honest about the Dark Side, about his intentions, about his fall, about...well, _everything_. When the Sith Lord sat next to him, Vos leaned his head against the man's shoulder, and he frowned. Kenobi _still_ wasn't eating right.

"This changes everything," he whispered, groaning softly when Obi-Wan moved to stroke his thick, dark hair. "This makes Ventress innocent, Tholme's death was ordered by _you_."

"This changes nothing," the Sith gently countered. "She still lied to you. She told you it was Dooku when _she_ executed him. She manipulated you to move you against the Sith."

"...yes." He took a deep, shuddering breath and relaxed against Kenobi, his presence in the Force warm and comforting and serene. "If she trusted me, if she just... _told_ me what actually happened, if she blamed you instead...things may have been very different."

"Perhaps."

Vos sighed when the long fingers brushed his neck, his anger fading into calm relaxation. This is how it should have been with Ventress. If she had been honest with him, his trust in her would have been complete, and he never would have turned to the Sith, never would have felt the bitter sting of betrayal from a lover that sought only to manipulate him. Kenobi was right. This changed nothing.

"Why did you do it?" he asked, almost breathless, and he listened to the slow beat of the Sith's heart, felt the even pulse of the Force that moved in time with the blood in Kenobi's veins.

"The war had just started, and Ventress was restless for Jedi blood." He shrugged gently as to not disturb the Kiffar. "I had tried to restrain her from senseless death for as long as I could, but it was no longer possible. I gave her a target that would suit my plans, a death that could hold purpose instead of simply being senseless."

"But why my Master?" Vos choked, and he could feel the bitter sting of tears in his eyes as he relived old pain.

"It was nothing personal, Quin," Kenobi soothed. "I believed his death would bring you home to me. I was willing to do that and more to see us united again."

Vos trembled. In a way, it was...weirdly sweet. Sith Lord or not, Kenobi seemed almost... _lonely_. After all, they had spoken about this. There was no friendship among the Sith, but Kenobi had been different, had always been reluctant to kill, if it could be avoided, and had surrounded himself not just with tools, but allies and friends. "Well..." he said softly, pulling away from the Sith and smiling at him. "That worked out in the end."

"I should say so, yes."

"And Ventress?"

Kenobi shrugged. "She lusted for Jedi blood, and she often mocked me for not killing them when I had the opportunity to. Tholme's execution was a matter of cruelty to her."

"But _you_ -"

"Yes, but when she found him, she was with Dooku on Rugosa trying to negotiate with the Toydarians. There was a battle there, as you know, and she took the opportunity to kill him. She would have done so anyway since she was craving dead Jedi. The only thing that came from me ordering his death was that when the deed was done, she collected his lightsaber and brought it to me instead of delivering it to her Master."

Vos sighed deeply and hung his head, drew his legs closer to him against the chill he suddenly felt. "I thought this could have absolved her. It's almost worse." Kenobi lightly drew his hand down the Kiffar's strong arm, the touch of the Force in his fingers making the man shiver and relax.

"There are casualties in war, Quin, and your Master was one. It's sad, and it's tragic, and when it happens, there's little we can do."

"...like Satine and your son."

Kenobi tensed, his breath held and his chest aching with tension, but the yellow eyes of his friend were sympathetic and understanding, and the usual anger he felt at the mere thought of his loss gave way to a feeling of emptiness. He nodded. "Yes. Like Satine and my son."

Quinlan quickly drew Kenobi close to him, planted a kiss to the man's cheek, and grinned broadly when the Sith Lord squirmed, trying to wriggle away from the Kiffar's grasp and rubbing his cheek with disgust. They had lost so much, but at the end of it all, they had still managed to find each other. "You and me, Kenobi," he chirped, "are going to take this galaxy by storm."

Kenobi nodded. "We good?"

"Yeah, we're good." The Kiffar smiled. "You trusted me, Kenobi. It's only right for me to put my faith in you." And he would. Even now, he felt the depth of their connection, and together, nothing would be able to stop them. He would be patient, as Kenobi had said, and in time, he'd have his revenge on Ventress. That, at least, hadn't changed.


	94. Shattering

Ahsoka Tano wandered the halls of the Jedi Temple in a daze. As soon as the Slave I had landed, she and Ventress parted ways without a word to each other, and the young Padawan had silently made her way back to the Temple. She didn't care what happened to Ventress. All she could think about was the cold, hateful yellow eyes of her Master. She saw them everywhere, in her waking mind on every person she passed, and in the dreams of what little sleep she managed to get. It was so haunting, so distressing, that after a short time, she had pulled her hood over her head and kept her eyes cast at the ground. She couldn't bare to see her Master's eyes in the face of another stranger, so making eye contact became something to avoid.

Even the Temple brought her no peace. The halls were nearly empty, populated only by eager younglings and initiates waiting to be given to a Master, though even the amount of initiates had decreased dramatically. The Order was scrambling to keep the war commanded, and as Padawans were lost, as Knights died, as Masters fell in battle, they needed to be replaced, and quickly. They were being rushed through the process to get out to the fighting, and that it was creating was a generation of Jedi raised in war who knew nothing else. Even Ahsoka felt this way. She frowned, disgust ripping through her as she thought about what was happening to the Order she loved, and it was quickly replaced by a deep, profound sense of loss as a single question echoed through her mind. What was a Padawan without a Master?

It was the Padawan's duty to follow their Master, no matter where they may go, so was that what was in store for her? Was she to follow Quinlan Vos into the embrace of the Sith. Was she to hold the Dark Side close to her and stand as an enemy to all that she once loved? The Jedi Temple was her home, the Jedi her family, and she couldn't see herself betraying them like that, was nauseated by the idea of running a Jedi through. She was no stranger to killing, had even drifted close to murder once when she saw an opportunity to slay the traitorous Obi-Wan Kenobi, the mighty Sith Lord Darth Lumis. Within her, she could feel darkness, and had felt it for some time, and she couldn't help but wonder if it was intentional.

How long had Quinlan been embracing the Dark Side? How long had his heart been with Kenobi when it should have been with the Jedi? Did it effect the way he trained his Padawan? Was Ahsoka somehow tainted? She felt darkness, yes, and not just within herself, but she had sensed it in Quinlan when nobody else had been able to, even sensed it in Barriss once before even she had fallen. She bit down on her lip as she roamed the halls of the Temple, unconscious of where her feet were bringing her. Was she even a Jedi? Quinlan had always been called dark, controversial, unconventional, and in this war, his methods proved to be nothing but effective. Was it because this war was a thing of the Dark Side, and Vos thrived in it? She didn't have the answers, but Ahsoka didn't feel like much of a Jedi. She had no idea how deep her Master's influence went, but if she was raised by a man who was Sith at heart...

She craved guidance, but the other Jedi wouldn't understand, couldn't understand. Perhaps they would see her as she saw herself, a Padawan trained by a fallen Jedi, stained with darkness and vowed to follow her Master. They would strike her down where she stood, had been willing to do so before when she was wrongly accused of Barriss' crimes. In the face of her Master's betrayal, she was faced with the reality of her own betrayal by the Jedi. There were those she trusted, those she called friends, those she loved, like Anakin, like Qui-Gon, like Master Plo, like Luminara. Like Barriss. Like Quinlan. But then there were others, those who had been willing to expel her from the Order, the only home she ever knew, in order to satisfy the Republic. If it weren't for Quinlan, Ventress, Anakin, Qui-Gon, the other Jedi would see her turned over for execution. The Jedi had failed her, and she had stayed for the love of her Master. A Master that now served the Dark Side.

She stopped, looked up, and found herself staring at the large doors that led into the circular chamber of the Jedi High Council. She took a deep breath, pushed the doors open, and walked inside.

The Council was not in session, and most of the seats remained empty, the room lit blue by the hologram displayed in the middle of the galactic map. Ahsoka frowned. There were Masters around, but none of the ones she had wanted to see. Kit Fisto sat beside Aayla Secura, the two whispering to each other as Mace Windu pointed out spots on the map where their Jedi Generals were doing battle. Depa Billaba sat in attendance as well, her newest Padawan by her side, the boy taking copious notes on a datapad in his hand, and more than occasionally raising his hand with questions, which his Master quietly answered. She watched as Mace quietly conferred with the holographic images of Admirals Yularen and Tarkin, and Ahsoka felt a pit sink in her stomach. She supposed that Secura could be open to her, seeing as she had been trained by Quinlan as well, but Aayla Secura was no longer bound to a Master like Ahsoka was. She could do as she liked, while Ahsoka's options were limited.

She felt bitterness sink into her as she looked around the room, a Padawan not yet ready to be a Knight, and she couldn't help but wonder if this was how Obi-Wan Kenobi had felt when he had faced the Council in his final months as a Jedi. The similarities weren't lost on her, and for a moment, she felt a twinge of sympathy and pity for the Sith Lord, the promising Jedi Knight that suffered betrayals from the Jedi Council just as she had. She supposed she would be assigned a new Master, but there were none that would have her, of that she was certain. After all, her Master had fallen to the Dark Side. It was unreasonable to expect that she shouldn't follow in his footsteps, and nobody wanted to suffer like Qui-Gon and Luminara had. Either one of them would have been fine Masters for the young Togruta, but even with her close connection to them, she didn't want to be trained by them. Not when students of their own had fallen. Not when the only Master she wanted was Quinlan Vos.

"I think it's a waste of resources," Tarkin had said, his arms crossed and clearly displeased. "What is the point of defending these planets if our enemy isn't here."

"Our enemy is there, Admiral Tarkin," Mace said, tense and frustrated. "Kenobi-"

"Kenobi," Tarkin said mockingly. "One man is not worth four fleets. If we were at war with the Mandalorians, that would be different, but as it is, you have us deployed above planets that we cannot defend, lest we engage the Mandalorian forces, which we obviously cannot do. We have been relegated to watching massacres, Master Jedi, when we should be engaging the Separatists."

"Wasn't it your idea to trap him, Admiral?" Windu snapped, and Tarkin's eyes narrowed in response.

"And I still think we should trap him, but not at the expense of wasting our resources. You and Skywalker seem to think he's this...Shadow King, but I think not, since both the attacks at Makeb and Kessel were said to be headed by the man, and these attacks happened simultaneously, so far as we can tell." Tarkin ran a hand over his face in exasperation. "The Shadow King seems more of an idea than an actual person, and while Kenobi may actually be this man, we have no proof of it. As before, we are hunting a ghost. The attacks on Makeb, Kessel, Oba Diah, and Ord Mantell all differed greatly, and it's likely different people were heading each assault." He groaned and loosened his collar. "Or Kenobi's trying to mislead us, as General Skywalker has begun to believe."

"But you still have his next objective," Mace said, tired and weariness overcoming him as he sank back into his seat.

"Tatooine is the likely next target, yes, which is why I am still here," Tarkin drawled. "General Skywalker is en route to Coruscant, and he will be there shortly, but as soon as he returns, I am moving the fleet out. The Chancellor is correct. If Kenobi wants to play with the criminals, let him. Skywalker's talents are best served winning the war for the Republic."

"The Hutts," Mace droned, "are Republic allies. If Mandalore attacks Tatooine-"

"The Hutts gave up their status as our allies the second they attacked Mandalore. The Chancellor has been quite clear on that." Tarkin tucked his hands behind his back and glared at the Jedi. "When Skywalker and I find Kenobi, and we will find him, we will bring him to heel, but so long as we remain stationary waiting for him, we simply give him an opportunity to turn us into the hunted. We will get his attention by winning battles, and if you dislike my methods, you are more than welcome to deal with him yourself."

Before Mace could respond, Tarkin's hologram flicked out of existence, and with a frustrated curse, Mace turned to the Masters in the room. "Why is SKywalker coming back to Coruscant?" Nobody answered. "...does anyone have any idea what's going on in this war anymore?!"

"Anakin felt something," Ahsoka said softly, and when the Masters saw her, they quickly cut the holoprojection, the lights coming back on to relight the room, and Billaba's young Padawan leapt to his feet and bowed. "He wouldn't have left Tatooine if it wasn't important. He felt something, or he knows something we don't."

"It pleases me to see you well, Ahsoka," Secura said warmly, smiling at the mirthless girl. "How was the mission?" Ahsoka didn't respond. She simply stared at the ground, her fist clenched tightly at her side. "...you didn't return with Master Quinlan," the Twi'lek said softly, and Tano shook her head, her fingers running along the Padawan chain that fell behind her lekku, and with a sharp tug, she pulled it from her head and held it in her hands.

"Master Quinlan has fallen to the Dark Side," she said softly, crossing the chamber and standing before Mace Windu, her hand holding the chain extended to him. "And I'm leaving the Jedi Order."

Nobody said anything for a long while, the weight of what was said heavy on all of them. Most sat in disbelief, uncertain of what to do, uncertain of how to even feel, but at the same time, none were surprised. Vos had always walked the line, and the mission assigned to him was out of step with the Jedi Code. Assassinations were a thing of the Dark Side, and they had allowed Vos to go. This was their doing.

"Are you certain?" Mace asked softly, and Ahsoka nodded without hesitation.

"I saw him. I saw his eyes, and there was only darkness in them." She dropped the chain into Mace's lap and turned to leave.

"Tano, wait," Aayla said swiftly, rising from her seat to block her way. "You can't just leave the Jedi."

"Why not!" Ahsoka snapped, all the frustrations she had felt released in a torrent. "Why can't I leave?! What's the point of the Jedi if they can't fight the Dark Side?!"

"We are fighting the Dark Side, Ahsoka," Mace said swiftly, clutching the chain in his hand.

"Yes, and you are losing! You can't even sense the Dark Side when it's right next to you! You couldn't sense it in Barriss, you couldn't sense it in Master Krell, you couldn't sense it in Master Quinlan, you couldn't sense it in Obi-Wan Kenobi and you can't sense it in me!" She only stopped when she felt wetness on her cheeks, warm and unfamiliar. She was crying. She hadn't realized she was. The wound was deep, but she knew this had to be done.

"You mustn't lose hope, Ahsoka," Aayla said softly. "We will prevail, the Jedi always prevail."

"And every day, the Dark Side grows stronger." She bit her lip and looked away. "My Master fell to the Dark Side because he was betrayed by a woman that he loved. I saw it. I was there, I watched it happen. Master Quinlan trained me, and he-" Her breath hitched as she choked back a sob, and she pushed away the feelings of sympathy from the Jedi around her. "I feel the Dark Side inside me, Masters. How can I trust myself not to fall prey to it when even my Master could not?"

"We can help you work through this," Aayla said swiftly. "We can get you a Master with experience in this, we-"

"No," the Togruta said sadly. "Once, the Council betrayed me, was willing to throw me out of the Order for something I didn't do because they wouldn't believe me. Once...something very similar happened to Obi-Wan Kenobi, and nobody could help him either, and look what he became." She shook her head. "I won't let that happen to me. I can't stay here, not anymore. Not when I feel the Dark Side the way I do."

"You think it will be any better out on your own?" Windu asked, shaking his head in disbelief. "Without guidance, what chance do you have? You're making a mistake."

"Maybe," she said softly. "But this is something I need to figure out on my own. The Jedi can't help me with the Dark Side because you can't feel it. This is something I need to do without the Jedi." She shrugged. "Who knows. Maybe I'll learn something I couldn't as a Jedi."

"Ahsoka," Mace began, his tone stern. "You can't-"

"I'm going to go after our Master," Aayla said swiftly, cutting off Windu. "We did this to him, we allowed this mission when we should have known better. We owe him the chance to choose again, and maybe this time, without Ventress, he will choose wisely."

"Maybe..." the Togruta said softly. "But I don't think so. Kenobi will be there with him. Ventress said something that makes me think that he might have a chance to break away, but..." She shook her head. "I don't think so."

"If this is true," Fisto said softly, "than if we go after Vos, we'll find Kenobi. We can just stop looking for the Shadow King all together. Admiral Tarkin will be pleased by this, it's something he can use."

"We'll have to discuss it further," Mace said softly, clutching the chain in his hand. "Ahsoka. You have been a great help, and you can continue to be, if that's what you wish."

"I can't stay..." she said again, and the Master nodded.

"I know. That doesn't mean you can't help us, not as a Jedi, as a friend."

"...perhaps."

"You're sure this is what you want?" he asked, and Tano nodded, biting down on her lip when it began to quiver. "You'll always be a friend to the Jedi, Ahsoka Tano," Mace said softly. "And you are welcome here whenever it is you may need. May the Force be with you." Without another word, she strode out of the Council Chamber for the last time, giving a final look at Quinlan's empty seat before she passed through the heavy doors.

She thought she'd be more upset, thought that leaving would be harder than it was, but it was made easy by the absence of the Masters that she cared about. Anakin would be upset, of course. Terribly so, but she couldn't stay, and she certainly couldn't say goodbye. It would make leaving too hard. She stood by the elevator, pushing the button repeatedly and quietly cursing when it didn't arrive fast enough. She never realized how slow it was before. Before, she always had her friends or her Master to keep her company, but now...

"Wait!" Ahsoka turned around quickly to see the teen rush out of the Chamber, his dark hair messy and his robes askew, and she frowned. She only knew Caleb Dume in passing, had met him only on a few occasions, and knew him to be inquisitive to the point of irritation to the Masters. He questioned everything, which appeared like defiance to most, but in truth, it was the opposite. He just needed to know why, which Ahsoka found to be an admiral trait. He'd be a fine Jedi when the war was over. If he lived.

The elevator opened, but Ahsoka didn't step inside, she just stood and stared at the boy as he gathered his thoughts. The elevator closed again, and still they stood there. "Where will you go?" he finally asked.

"I don't know," she responded swiftly. "But I can't stay here."

"They could find you a new Master," he said softly, trying to be comforting, but he took a step back when the girl's blue eyes narrowed dangerously.

"I don't want a new Master," she growled, and sighed heavily when the boy moved to give her more space. "I don't know what I'm going to do," she said, calmer this time. "Survive, I guess. I just know I can't stay. There's...too much of my Master in me..."

"...they're in there talking about you and Master Vos," Caleb said softly. "I don't think they know what to do either."

"I don't think anyone knows what to do about anything anymore." Caleb laughed at that, and Ahsoka smiled slightly despite herself.

"Yeah, that might be true..." He looked her over, chewing on his bottom lip as questions raged through his mind. "I had a dream once," he said softly, mentally kicking himself for sounding so stupid, but it was too late to go back on it now. "You were in it." She looked at him suspiciously, a wry smirk coming to her face, and he suddenly felt ten times more awkward. "Not like that! It was...dark. All of it. I couldn't see much, but it felt like I was standing in blood. You were there, next to me..." Caleb took in a deep breath and held it, debating on if he should say more, but the other Padawan, the former Padawan felt so trusting, so familiar, he knew he had to continue. "The Sith was there too. Staring at us."

"The Sith?" she asked softly. "All of them?"

He shook his head. "Just one. Just Kenobi. But I felt...it felt like he could see me. Like, actually see me." Tano looked at the boy carefully and memorized everything she could about him. One day, she felt, it might be important.

"Was it a vision?"

"How can you tell if it's a vision?"

"Uh..." Ahsoka rubbed her neck as she thought. "I really don't know. Master Quinlan would..." She trailed off, her heart growing heavy in her chest. "Master Qui-Gon would tell you to be mindful of your visions, but not at the expense of the present." She nodded. That was good advice, at the very least. Caleb seemed to agree.

"He didn't seem hostile, though, he was...it was like he was standing with us."

"Oh." She scoffed. "It was obviously a dream then."

"Yeah, maybe," he said, laughing as he ran a hand through his thick, messy hair. "Master Billaba thinks she may be ready for the war again, so...it looks like I'm going to get a chance to fight after all." He grinned broadly. "Maybe I'll see you out there, if you do decide to help us."

"Yeah, maybe." She pressed the button for the elevator again, and this time, it opened right away. She turned to look at the Padawan, his hand extended to her, and she carefully took it, the boy clasping her hand tightly and shaking it vigorously.

"This isn't goodbye, Ahsoka Tano. I feel like we'll meet again. We're going to get to know each other really well. I can feel it."

She smiled slightly at the boy's enthusiasm, at how earnest he was, and she felt that he may somehow be right. Without another word, Ahsoka entered the elevator and left the Jedi Temple for the last time.

* * *

 

Anakin had left as soon as he was called. He hated to abandon Tatooine, since the attack on the planet was imminent, supposedly, but some things were more important. Some things required his personal, undivided attention. Some things drove him harder to catch Kenobi, and he never had to look far for motivation, and this time, he only had to look close to home. He could feel the cold grip him, hard and tight, just as it had the night his mother died. It was a feeling he hadn't felt since, and he couldn't remember if he had felt it this strongly. He was going to kill him. He was going to murder him, if he could. He was going to capture him, torture him, make him beg for his life, wish for his death, and Anakin would make certain that he knew that his death wasn't a mercy. It was an execution.

Padmé sat before him, her shoulders shaking with tears, her skin prickled in the cold of the room as she sat stripped down to her undergarments, as he had demanded when she told him of her...infidelity. He hadn't heard anything else that was said as he looked at her lovely body, her pale skin stained with dark bruises around her hips from where strong fingers tightly gripped her, her neck marked with red bites of hard, possessive kisses, the ghost of another's touch all over her. Anakin felt he could have killed her too, if he didn't feel that there was something else at work. After all, it wouldn't have been the first time she was influenced by the Sith. The first time they had been intimate wasn't so much love making as it was pure animal lust incited by a Sith Lord's command, and from what she said, that was certainly part of what had happened.

He loved her, he truly did, and even in his rage, he was inclined to believe her when she said she didn't know how it had happened, or why she had given in, but Anakin knew better. He had been naive to believe that love alone would be enough to carry them through. It wasn't enough. Emotions were confusing and complicated, and it had never been a secret that Padmé was deeply in lust with Obi-Wan Kenobi, and had been since they were young. And he had tolerated it because they loved each other, and he truly believed that to be enough to see them through everything. It wasn't the first time Anakin Skywalker was a fool, and it certainly wouldn't be the last, but it would be the last time he tolerated that Sith menace. He felt the cold grip him as he tried again and failed to tear his eyes away from the shadows of Kenobi's grasp on Padmé's hips, and he closed his eyes and imagined the Sith seated deep within her, and the spike of cold he felt served as a keen reminder on why Jedi were forbidden from these things. There was no good preparation for betrayal.

He tapped the comlink on his wrist, waited for it to chirp with an established connection, and emotionlessly said, "Qui-Gon. I need you."

There was silence on the other end indicated by the soft crackle of static, and then his Master's voice, deep and concerned, said, "Where are you."

"Padmé's apartment. Please, hurry. I fear what I may do."

Silence again, followed by, "Whatever it is, don't lose yourself. I'm on the way." The connection was cut, and Anakin pressed his hands together, brought his fingers to his lips, and stared at the woman on the couch. "Start over," he said, his tone cold and heartless, though he yearned to understand.

"He must have-"

"From the beginning, Padmé!" he shouted, his temper flaring, and he could feel the Force itself writhe under his fury. She couldn't feel the Force, but the Senator winced, and Anakin felt fear from her. Good. She should be afraid.

She clasped her hands tight in her lap, her eyes downcast and looking at the dark bruises of Obi-Wan's thumbs on her hips, and she shivered as she remembered the events that put them there. She was deeply ashamed, and she could never forgive herself, but...something inside her gently pushed her to want it again.

"H-he came to talk," she said softly, and Anakin scoffed loudly, his demeanor clearly showing exactly what he thought of that.

"Talk," he repeated, his voice dripping with disgust. "Is that what you call talking?!" he shouted, pointing to the bites on her neck, and her eyes narrowed in anger.

"Did you want me to tell you what happened or not!" she snapped, and it only made Anakin angrier, but this time, Padmé boldly faced it.

"I'm not the one that was unfaithful, Padmé, you don't get to be angry with me!"

"I will be whatever I want!" She reached out and grabbed a blanked off the armrest of the sofa and wrapped it around her. "I told you I was sorry, Anakin! And I am, I am disgusted with myself for what happened!"

"Then why did you do it?!"

"I don't know!" She glared at him. "Do you care to hear what happened or not?"

He shut his eyes tight and whispered the Code under his breath, reaching into the Force to calm his racing heart, his passionate emotions, but he found it ran cold. It was always so comforting before, always so warm, but despite the chill, he found his temper cooling, not released into the Force as he was always able to do, but settling in his veins like ice. It wasn't gone, and he could feel the emotions, anger, hatred, fear, catch deep within him and sit heavy like poison in his blood. He felt his emotions harden to the girl, and with it, all sympathy, all caring faded. It wasn't the calm, easy release he was used to, but it balanced him all the same, cooling his emotions into ice instead of non-existence.

"What did he want to talk about?" Anakin asked, his voice distant and cold, and with his passions calmed, Padmé took a deep breath.

"He feels he has nowhere to go," she said softly.

"He's right. He doesn't."

"Don't be cruel, Anakin," Padmé snapped. "He lost his lover and his child, he came to me because he and I used to be friends and he thought I'd understand!"

"Understood so well that you'd comfort him, is that right?" A wry, bitter smile crossed his lips, and for a moment, Padmé felt as though she didn't know the man that sat across from her. Anakin was many things, but he wasn't heartless as he appeared to be now, though...she didn't blame him for it. He had a right to be angry. "You've done this before," he accused, and the Senator looked at him dumbfounded.

"No! Anakin, I never-"

"But you did! I trusted you, Padmé! I thought you loved me the way I love you!"

"I do, Anakin," she said earnestly. "I don't love Obi-Wan. I did, a long time ago, but-"

"If you don't love him, why would you sleep with him?!"

She opened her mouth to answer, but the words caught in her throat. There were...many reasons, none of which would satisfy her furious lover, since none of them satisfied her either. She knew very well that love had nothing to do with what had happened between her and Obi-Wan. It was all lust and the memory of old, deep feelings and passion unrelenting. True, Anakin was passionate as well, and he had always been so, but his Jedi training had tempered that, perhaps not wholly successfully, but the young Skywalker did try his best. That was not the case with her Sith lover. He thrived on passion, on all aspects, carried himself like he could barely contain the powerful tide of his emotions, and Padmé felt herself drawn to it. It made Kenobi wicked and rough, but the intensity of their animalistic rutting was unlike anything she had ever experienced, and when it was over, she had craved more. An urge was satisfied, one she didn't know she had, and even now, she felt the pull to see her lover again.

She hated herself for it.

"It's...complicated," was all she managed to say, and the swell of rage in Skywalker made it apparent that it had been the wrong thing to say, but really, there was no right thing that could have been said.

"I tried to be patient and understanding," he snarled, his mechanical hand clenching so hard at his side that she could hear the metal creak and groan under the intense pressure. "I knew you always harbored...feelings for Obi-Wan," he spat. "You were attracted to him even after you learned what a monster he was! I have been too lenient, too soft. I never should have allowed this!"

"Anakin, you-"

"Is that what you want, Padmé?" Skywalker asked softly, his voice so cold that the woman shivered, and before she could see him move, the Jedi was bearing down on her, his left hand wrapped tightly around her throat. "Do you want a monster?" His grip tightened, her brown eyes wide and her heart racing with fear. "Because if that's what you want, I can be that for you..."

"Anakin!" Skywalker looked behind him with furious eyes that barely contained the rage he felt, and in an instant, it disappeared as he stared at Qui-Gon, the Master calm and collected, his hands held out before him as if to calm the raging Jedi. "Let her go, Anakin," he said softly. "Come. Whatever it is, we will handle this together."

He stood unmoving for what felt like hours, the thin, bite-stained neck in his grasp, the calm ease of the Jedi Master he stared at, and slowly, with a pitiful whimper, Anakin let the girl go and rushed to the older man, his hands balling into fists into the Master's robes as he laid his head against the broad chest. With a sigh, Qui-Gon held his former student to him, his fingers running through the boy's long, wavy hair.

"Master," Anakin gasped, his throat thick and raw with anger and sadness and the threat of helpless sobbing. "She-"

"Hush, Anakin. No more. I'm here now, and we shall manage it." The Knight said nothing more. Qui-Gon looked at the woman, gasping to catch her breath, the wide, brown eyes fearfully looking at her young lover, her thin body wrapped in a blanket, and the Master didn't need to be told what happened to know. "Obi-Wan was here?" he asked, and Anakin's fist tightened, and the Senator nodded.

"Yes..."

"When?"

"When the prison was broken in to." Qui-Gon frowned. It had only been a week since then. A great deal had happened on that day, including the slaughter on Oba Diah. Which meant...

"Oh, that clever bastard..." Qui-Gon muttered under his breath, clutching Anakin closer to him as he understood just how deep Kenobi's deceptions ran. "Anakin was on Oba Diah hunting the Shadow King. If Obi-Wan was here..."

"He can't be him!" Padmé said swiftly, more defensively than she intended to, and when Anakin moved to yell at her once again, Qui-Gon kept him held tightly against him, pushing a feeling of calm into the boy, and Skywalker easily submitted to the soothing touch of his Master. "The Jedi are hunting the wrong man, he isn't the monster we think him to be!"

"Perhaps not," Qui-Gon said softly. "But just because he isn't what we think he is doesn't mean the reality isn't worse."

"He was your student, Qui-Gon, how could you say that?" she asked softly, more curious than defensive or angry. The Master's calming presence, it seemed, effected more than just the Force sensitive. "He's grieving, surely you understand that. What happened to him was awful."

"It was," Qui-Gon said, nodding. "And you're right to have sympathy for him. But don't allow him to use his tragedy as an excuse to get what he wants."

"M-me?" Padme asked, biting her lip, and she closed her eyes, a deep flush coming to her face before she shook the notion away. "No, he can't want me, the entire time he was here, he was absolutely consumed with grief."

"You're right, he doesn't want you," Qui-Gon said, letting Anakin out of his brip and sitting the boy down in a nearby chair, the Knight dropping into it without complaint and staring at the Master Jedi before him. "He's after you, Anakin."

"...me?" he asked almost mindlessly. He didn't understand, but Qui-Gon's face was stern, serious, and understanding, not just for Anakin, but for Kenobi as well. "What could he possibly want with me?"

"Since the beginning of his time as a Sith Lord, he's been out to destroy you. You stand on opposite shores of the Force, and he is of the belief that he was made in response to you." Qui-Gon smiled softly and put his hand to Anakin's cheek. "Your existence is a threat to him, Anakin. It just stands to reason that he'd want to take everything away from you, especially now that he's lost Satine."

"It's...selfish," Anakin spat bitterly, his gaze drifting to Padmé's small, shaking form, and through the anger he felt inside him, he also felt the strong pull of his love for her. Perhaps this was his fault, in a way. Padmé was a dream, a fantasy, something for him to hold on to when he could, which was not often, not as much as it should have been, not as much as it needed to be to form any kind of a relationship. He was absent more often than not. Of course something like this may happen eventually. Especially when their relationship was based on...on what?

On a friendship between a young boy and a teenage queen that loved another Jedi? On a few days of a rekindled friendship and the stirring of attraction that culminated in frantic, desperate kisses in the face of their impending and immediate execution? On three words whispered to the Senator by another that whipped her into a frenzy of lust for her old love, an emotional riptide so strong that Anakin was pulled under with her to mindlessly sink within her? Before that day, he was committed to friendship, content to allow the feelings between them to grow slowly, if they grew at all, but in a single moment, driven by the command of a Sith, their relationship had been pulled from friendship to lovers, and though he confessed to not loving her at the time, knew what they did was a product of lust, it was too late. They had taken that step, and both of them were passionate, committed to the path they were pushed on, and they rushed in with the reckless abandon of the young lovers they had come to be.

"Selfish, yes," Qui-Gon said softly. "But that is the way of the Sith. After all, you and Obi-Wan are counterparts. If he can't have love, why should you?" He stood before Anakin could answer and moved to kneel before Padmé, his hands rubbing together as he looked into her eyes, big and brown and sad and confused. He smiled softly. "Senator, I need to see inside you. If Obi-Wan is at work here, I should be able to feel it. If we are armed with the knowledge of what he can do and what he is doing, we can stop him."

She bit her lip and averted her eyes, and Master Jinn could feel the deep reluctance in her. She was protecting Kenobi, even though she had no cause to. He frowned. This was more complicated than he anticipated. "You aren't going to kill him, are you?"

"No." A violent snap of rage from Anakin swiftly drew the Master's attention, and before the boy could react, before he could say anything, Qui-Gon lifted a hand, reached out to his furious student, and gripped him in the calm of the Force. The anger was quickly drained from the wrathful Anakin, and he slumped back in his seat. "That's not to say I won't stop him, Anakin. We must. He's dangerous and destructive, and while he is lost to the Jedi, he isn't lost to the Force. I can still reach him, and for that reason alone, we mustn't abandon him."

"He is Sith, Master!" Anakin snapped, not so harsh as he intended, nor as forceful, and he winced when he heard how desperate he sounded.

"Sith, yes, which is why we need him. The Jedi are mistaken when they say that we have defeated the Sith. We never have. The Sith defeated themselves, and even so, they survived, even if they've been forced to the shadows for the past thousand years." Neither Jedi moved for a time while Anakin mulled it over, and finally, the Knight averted his eyes and nodded. "This change must come from within, Anakin," Qui-Gon said softly. "Obi-Wan may be our chance for that. Balance...may not be what the Jedi think it is."

"This is complicated, Master."

"The Force always is, my friend." He turned his gaze back to Padme, a faint smile on his lips, and through the mess of emotions within her, he could feel...gratitude, and the deep, profound feeling that everything was going to be alright. "May I?" he asked, holding his hands out before her, and she slowly nodded, closing her eyes when she felt Qui-Gon's long fingers slide into her hair and lightly grasp her head.

Anakin felt almost detached from himself as he watched the two, unmoving and barely breathing, the Force swirling around them in a gentle caress of calm as the Master gently reached within her, soothing and relaxing and coaxing Padmé to allow him into the deepest parts of her. His thoughts about his relationship plagued him, occupied his every thought. He never realized how...impulsive it was, how unstable the very foundations were. For so long, he had always believed love to be this unbreakable bond, a unifying feeling that could not be breached. He didn't ever expect that it could bend, that it could break, that it could move and shift as it seems to have done here, now, between him and Padmé. She wasn't lying when she said she loved him, he could sense that much. But love was not set in stone, and that emotion, like all others, flowed like water, just as the Force did. He had treated love as the foundation of his relationship, and was only now realizing that the base on which he built it was shaky and unstable, water instead of rock.

Considering all that has happened, all that had occurred between them, how their whirlwind relationship began, Anakin wondered if this wasn't somehow...planned. Not by the Force, but by the Sith that manipulated it. The true start of their relationship, after all, had been spurred by Kenobi's voice in the woman's head, a reverberating chant that had come to effect Skywalker as well, and considering that, it didn't seem entirely unlikely that Obi-Wan had planned this from the start, had forced them together only to have the chance to pull them apart when he needed to expose a weakness. And now, with the Sith Lord reportedly broken and insane, and with Skywalker bearing down upon him, the need to find the weak point in the Jedi must have been pressing. And even if it wasn't...grief was powerful, and like Qui-Gon had said, Kenobi was selfish, and if he couldn't have love, it seemed unfair for his counterpart to have it.

Padmé may, in fact, be innocent. Anakin frowned. Not innocent, perhaps, since she had always harbored a strong physical attraction to Kenobi, but this may not have happened without the Sith Lord's mental meddling. As he watched Qui-Gon work, he felt a sense of calm wash over him. He loved Padme, and even after this, he still did. But it had highlighted the cold, honest reality that love was not enough, and a relationship built solely on that was doomed to fail. They needed something stronger, something to root themselves in each other, something that could go beyond the overwhelming lust that the Sith Lord inspired, and being so far away from her for so long hadn't helped, nor did the need for secrecy between them.

It was a secret relationship, yes, one that he kept well hidden from the Council at large. Only his most trusted friends knew of it, and he had hoped it simply remained there. But the need to keep suspicion off of them had led to their encounters being brief at best, relegated to perhaps some fast talk about the state of the galaxy, their parts in the war, and then it quickly devolved into mindless, heedless passion as they fell into bed together. They couldn't do what normal couples did because their duties didn't allow it, and it left them with something deeply passionate, yes, but not deeply emotional. He should have seen this coming. All the signs were there. After all, he did have visions of it, though he had thought they were only the manifestations of his fears. If they were going to continue after this, if they were going to survive as a couple, than they'd have to start building a brand new foundation, not as lovers, but as people.

Anakin frowned. Padmé was right. This was complicated.

Qui-Gon removed his hands from Padmé and frowned, his face drawn in concentration as he tried to understand what he had seen. "Did Kenobi influence her, Master?" Anakin asked softly, hopeful, but the Master didn't move. Anakin feared for the worse, and couldn't decide if he'd rather deal with Padmé having willingly given herself to Obi-Wan, or deal with Kenobi's rape of the girl he loved.

"She has certainly been influenced," Qui-Gon muttered. "I can feel a dark touch within her, but...it's not Obi-Wan."

"W-what?" Anakin stared at the Master with his jaw slack, his eyes wide. "Are you sure? If not him, who."

Qui-Gon shook his head. "I don't know, but it's darker than Obi-Wan, deeper, more passive. I'm certain it's not him. He had always said there was a Sith Lord in the Senate...perhaps this is his doing." He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his long, graying hair. "This just keeps getting worse. Padme may be targeted by the Sith Master, not just his apprentice."

"So, Padmé-" Anakin started, but was silenced when Qui-Gon held up his hand.

"Yes and no, Anakin. Yes, she is attracted to Obi-Wan, but this isn't new, we all were aware of this." Anakin bit his lip and nodded, could feel the anger hardening deep inside him as jealousy rushed through him like a wave. "But it seems like this has been preyed on, and someone is using her feelings to manipulate her, though to what end, I have no idea. In this matter, in what happened between her and Obi-Wan...consent is highly suspect."

Anakin felt relief wash over him. Padmé was innocent, at least partly, and while they had a great deal of work to do to overcome this, he felt that it would be alright, felt the Force itself pushing him toward her. His Master had always taught him to follow the will of the Force, and it was the Force's will that he be with Padmé. It was no fault of hers that the Sith sought to manipulate this. He immediately felt guilty for his relief, however, when he understood that absolving Padmé from blame meant that she had been raped. He found himself wishing that, perhaps, she had wanted it instead. It would be painful for both of them regardless of the circumstances, but at least then, she wouldn't have to suffer the mental agony of being taken against her will.

"What could the Sith want with her?" Anakin asked. "If this wasn't Obi-Wan, than this may not have had to do with me at all."

"It's foolish to assume it doesn't have to do with you, Anakin, it's far too great of a coincidence for it not to be." Qui-Gon sighed. "But you're right in thinking this is strange, and it does seem to have many layers to it. Obi-Wan's involvement may simply be a cover for something else. For once, he may be a pawn as well, not the one pulling the strings."

"What do we do?" Padmé asked softly, drawing her knees to her chest and looking so small, so vulnerable, that Anakin couldn't help but feel the too familiar need to protect her. And he would. He would.

Qui-Gon groaned as he sat back on the floor. "I was going to suggest the two of you taking a temporary break. After all, if Obi-Wan is using you to get to Anakin, than putting distance between you two may make him leave you alone. If Anakin at least seems to have no investment in you, than there would be little cause for Obi-Wan to view you as his weakness." The Jedi growled. "But this isn't just Obi-Wan, and Padmé may serve as a piece in a larger scheme, though I cannot begin to imagine what that could be. Leaving her alone may be just as dangerous as keeping her close."

"I'm not some...piece to be moved about, Qui-Gon," Padmé snapped. "I refuse to be used like this!"

"With all due respect, Senator, what you want no longer matters." The girl's eyes narrowed, and Qui-Gon threw up his hands in surrender, biting his lip as he backtracked under the heat of her anger. "There are forces at work that we don't understand, not yet, and you have a part to play in them. You are a piece in this whether you like it or not, but that doesn't mean you are without choice." He took a deep breath. "What is your desire in regards to how we progress?"

"I want to stay with Anakin," she said without pause. "We can fight back against this together."

Qui-Gon felt the sudden swell of love and devotion to the woman from Skywalker, even through the hatred and anger he felt. His Anakin, as ever, was so very human. He would see it through this. He was given all the tools necessary to persevere, though this mess was exactly why Jedi refrained from such attachments. Anakin could see this through, but they would have a great deal of work to do. "Anakin," the Master said softly. "Is that what you want?"

"Yes," he said without hesitation. More than anything. We...have a lot to talk about, a lot to work out, but...I don't know, Master, being with her feel right."

"Do you understand that this will happen again?" The sudden flash of anger in Skywalker told Qui-Gon that he didn't consider that. "It will, Anakin. Whether you stay with her or not, Obi-Wan will be back, and he will have his way."

"No," Anakin snarled. "Not again, not ever again. I'll protect her, she'll never be left unguarded!"

"You know as well as I that you can't stay with her at all times, Anakin, the war needs you." He watched his former student bristle, a deep growl in his chest at the idea, and Qui-Gon saw the need to sit with Skywalker and reason this out soon. Anakin had always been receptive to him, had always found wisdom in his guidance. Now would be no different. His unbalanced student would be balanced again soon enough.

"But she can always been under the watch of someone, right? Another Jedi, or-"

"I'll see if we can't talk to the Council about it." Anakin frowned, anger and distrust on his face, and Qui-Gon sighed heavily. "Anakin. You may not trust the Council to see reason, but trust me to sway them. She is the focus of a Sith Lord. It is in our best interests to keep a close eye on her."

"...yes." Skywalker sighed heavily, relief and trust in the man washing over him. "Yes, you're right. This could...work to our advantage in the end," he said softly, distancing himself from the pain of betrayal as he put it in perspective. Like all things, this was a learning experience. He was hurt, yes, but he had come out wiser for it, and in the end, he and Padmé would share something stronger. Even if Qui-Gon was right about this happening again. Even if Obi-Wan had his way with his love, even if he would continue to see the Sith's mark upon her, could see in his mind the blazing passion, the heated touches, the burning kisses, the quick, hard pace he kept as they rode together to completion, his release spilled deep inside her...

He growled as he clenched his fists tightly, the ice within him thawing to the hot rage of anger. All of this only meant one thing. Obi-Wan must be destroyed, and the sooner Anakin could kill him, the sooner he could feel the Sith's vile life slipping away, the sooner he could be with Padmé without the fear of having her taken from him, without the jealousy of Kenobi's inspired lust. Without anything to stand between them.

"I'm...sorry, Padmé," Anakin said softly, and while the words were bitter, he meant them. "For letting my anger get the better of me, for choking you, I...never meant to hurt you."

"I would have done the same," she whispered, looking away from the Jedi. "Or worse. I'm sorry too, I...never meant for this to happen. I do love you, Anakin, you must believe that."

"I do," he said, nodding. "But it isn't enough. We need...something stronger."

"I agree," she said, smiling softly, almost nervously.

"Master, I want some time with Padmé to work things out."

Qui-Gon frowned, but nodded. "Don't forget your duty, my friend."

"I won't," Anakin said swiftly. "But my duty is also to Padmé. If I'm going to be her husband-"

"Husband?!" Qui-Gon gasped, looking between the two in disbelief before closing his eyes and shaking his head. It was to be expected, after all. Both were young, and passionate, foolishly so. It had been so long since Qui-Gon had been in love himself, but seeing these two together, he remembered what it was like, though he had never been quite so reckless about it. "If this is where you believe the Force is leading you, Anakin, so be it, but you must be cautious. The Sith will prey on this, and you must have the fortitude to resist."

Anakin nodded. "Will you help me, Master?"

"With all my heart, Anakin."

Skywalker took a deep breath, his path laid out before him. It wasn't an easy one, but with Padmé by his side and with Qui-Gon Jinn guiding him, he knew he could see this through. After all, with Obi-Wan in pursuit of Padmé, he now had a very clear, very simply way to trap the Sith Lord. Very soon, Obi-Wan would have nowhere left to run, and Anakin would finally slay him. Anakin Skywalker would have it no other way.


	95. Tatooine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, just so you all know, Huttese is bullshit, so most of the Huttese in this chapter is just written in italics. I can do Sith. I can do Mando'a, but doing Huttese without making it look stupid as hell as impossible. So there. That's all! Thank you, my lovelies for all your wonderful comments, suggestions, ideas, ect. You all give me so much to think about. I've been brutally sick and snowed in, which is why I've been able to get such long chapters out so quickly, but expect shorter chapters and/or a day or so in between as I get well/thaw out. Enjoy, kids! I love you all!

Obi-Wan circled the holotable, a hand to his chin and carefully observing the projected map of Tatooine and its major cities, if any of those cities could be considered major. Around the table stood all of his commanders, those trusted few that would serve as the agents of his revenge. Quinlan Vos, Barriss Offee, Cody, Boba Fett, and Bo-Katan Kryze, all of them silent and making their own observations on the plan of attack. The past week had been spent at the palace of Mustafar, at Quinlan's request, and Kenobi obliged. After all, it would be good to have a chance to regroup and make new plans, especially with the threat of Skywalker looming above his head. Outside of Hutt Space, the last target he had that belonged to the Shadow Collective was Tatooine, and even then, their presence on the planet had greatly diminished with the Mandalorian threat. The Hutts still had a presence there, and a large one, though that wasn't saying much. Tatooine was sparsely populated because of the harsh conditions of living in the blazing desert and because of the rampant criminal presence in its cities. He had considered burning the planet, but with Barriss' information regarding Skywalker's family, the condemned desert world became of much greater interest to Kenobi. He could use this planet. _After_ he slaughtered the filth in the cities, of course.

Nearby Geonosis was a problem, however, and in this, Kenobi felt the Jedi trap for him was set. After all, Geonosis was now a Republic stronghold, and the jump to Tatooine took only a few minutes, making outright attacking the planet an impossibility without facing a crushing defeat. Whatever happened on Tatooine would have to be done with a minimal force, as a tenuous alliance between the Hutts and the Republic guaranteed that Tatooine would be safe from the vengeance of the Mandalorians, especially after Jabba had issued a very public denouncement of the Shadow Collective and their actions. Obi-Wan _had_ to destroy the Hutts. His revenge demanded it. He just couldn't allow insanity to have control of him when he _did_ attack, or it would all be for nothing.

Everything was for revenge. _Everything_. The revenge of Mandalore, the revenge of the Sith, Quinlan's revenge against Ventress, Barriss' revenge against the Jedi, his own personal revenge against _everything_ , his Master's revenge, the list went on and on, but...it felt _good_ to have something to do. Insanity gripped him often over the past few days, but Quinlan Vos was a constant companion to him, and when madness struck, he was there, not to ease the flames, since _nobody_ could do that, but to redirect it from destruction to shameless debauchery. The past few days had been spent in a drunken, pleasured haze, between his moments of clarity, and in the end, he found himself better for it. The relaxation was welcome, and with Vos around, indulging in shameless debauchery wasn't an option, but a pleasant requirement.

But now, the time for rest and relaxation was over. Several things were happening at once, and in order to manage them all, things needed to be planned exactly right. It was a balancing act in order to safely satisfy the full measure of all the revenge that must be undertaken, but Kenobi had _always_ been good under pressure. The focus helped keep his mind off his grief and his sanity in tact. He pointed to the Star Destroyer that hung over the planet.

"Skywalker's flagship," Vos said softly, and Kenobi nodded. "He hasn't moved from that spot. How exactly are we going to get past that when he can have reenforcements here in under five minutes?" He laughed harshly. "And he _is_ the best pilot in the galaxy, Obi-Wan. If his ship can't get a lock on us, he sure can."

"Then you should be pleased to hear that he _isn't_ there," Kenobi said softly. "My Master contacted me this morning, Skywalker's on Coruscant." He scoffed. "Getting himself married, it would seem. Secretly, of course. Infidelity doesn't appear to bother him as much as I had hoped."

"Will you abandon your plans for him?" Barriss asked softly, and Kenobi shook his head.

"No, this changes nothing. He _cannot_ be allowed to have her, I won't allow it."

"Sounds like love," Quinlan drawled, chucking slightly when Kenobi glared at him.

"Don't be absurd. This marriage is a bandage on a gaping wound, but mark my word, it is still bleeding. After we finish our business here, I will be flying back to Coruscant to remind Padmé who she belongs to."

Bo-Katan hissed in frustration. "What good is this girl anyway?" Kenobi rolled his eyes.

"She is a tool for my revenge on Anakin Skywalker, Bo. She is no replacement for your sister. There _is_ no replacement for her." That seemed to placate the fiery woman, and she nodded, returning her attention to the holographic display. Padmé did, of course, hold some significance, as the Force was drawing him to her, though he had yet to understand if there was a reason why beyond the child she would come to bear. Deep in the back of his mind, though, he could feel need stir within him for her. She wasn't like the pleasure slaves he kept, she was...a comfort.

"We're going to have to attack quickly," Cody said. "With Republic reenforcements so close at hand, we could easily all get trapped on the planet."

"They aren't going to need reenforcements," Kenobi said swiftly. "Skywalker may not be there, but Tarkin is. He'll have us all before his reenforcements can arrive. The past few months have just gone to show how dangerous he is. We're going to need a focused strike on each of our targets. An invasion, he can do something about, but much smaller, localized strikes will be difficult for them to stop."

"I can remotely detonate several explosives at once, Master," Barriss said softly. "If you just tell me where and when, we can hit key targets you deem acceptable and our forces on the ground can execute the rest in the confusion."

"I knew I liked you." Kenobi took a deep breath, observed the data, and nodded. "Very well. Quinlan, Barriss, Cody, Boba, and myself will go to Tatooine."

"What about _me_?" Bo-Katan hissed, and Kenobi smiled at her, his gold eyes gleaming deviously.

"You, my dear, will take the Mandalorian fleet to Kessel. Marshall them there and prepare for my signal. By the time I'm done on Tatooine, we will have what we need to launch a successful attack on Nal Hutta, and with them, the entirety of the Hutt Council. That also puts us in range to destroy Nar Shadda, and with the destruction of the Smuggler's Moon, our revenge against the Shadow Collective will be complete."

"Not complete," Bo-Katan growled. "The creature that murdered her is _still alive_."

"And will be for some time to come, yes," Kenobi said calmly. "Beside being my personal plaything, Maul still has a use to my Master. The witch that allowed him to rise again escaped my slaughter of Dathomir. We need him to entrap and kill her. She is an enemy of the Sith and cannot be ignored." He grinned wickedly. "You are, of course, welcome whenever you wish to see him. Maul does so _love_ visitors..."

"...you will return to Mandalore with me when our revenge is complete, won't you?" she asked, her voice soft and almost pleading, and Kenobi found he couldn't look at her.

"...no."

"No?" She laughed softly in an attempt to ease her tension. "My people need you, Kenobi. You're their Shadow King. So much of our success is because they rallied behind _you_."

"I never asked to be king of Mandalore, Bo-Katan. I won't be going back." He shrugged. "Besides, the Shadow King is bigger than I am now, your enemies _fear_ the very name. The title is a weapon for you to exploit. No one man needs to be the Shadow King."

"Maybe not," she said softly, "but it will _always_ be you, whether you like it or not. You are our Shadow King, and Mandalore will always stand beside you." She pushed away from the table. "I'll leave you to plan your assault. Don't take too long to get us to Nal Hutta."

"With what I'm planning, you'll be destroying the Hutts by tomorrow evening." The woman bowed, and Obi-Wan watched her leave the room, and was silent for long after she left. None of the others wanted to disturb their Master as he stared almost wistfully at nothing at all. Nobody needed to be told to know where his mind was. "There are six places on Tatooine that are even worth talking about," Kenobi said, putting his finger to the hologram to highlight the points he was talking about. "Mos Entha, Mos Shuuta, Mos Eisley, Mos Espa, Bestine, and Jabba's Palace. We can only bring with us those we can fit on the _Umbra_ , lest we attract the attention of the Republic, so it's down to just us, I'm afraid."

"You really think we can destroy six settlements with five people?" Cody asked. "I know not to underestimate the destructive powers of the Sith, but only three of us have the Force, and the kid here barely counts as a person," he said, thrusting his thumb in a scowling Boba's direction.

"Patience, Cody," Kenobi said softly, his fingers steepled together as his eyes darted over the map. "We do not need to destroy everything. Our goal here is to root out the criminals that infest this waste of a planet, and we will do that. Barriss." The girl stood up straight, her breath held as she looked at her Master. "Mos Entha, Mos Eisley, Mos Espa and Bestine are all spaceports. How many explosive devices did you say you could link up?"

"I didn't say, master," she said softly. "But I suspect I can manage up to fifteen before the rate of errors begins to increase."

Kenobi nodded. "Nobody is going to leave this planet. Blow up the spaceports. You should have ample time to set your explosives while I make arrangements for the destruction of Nal Hutta."

Barriss looked up at the ceiling, quietly mouthing something to herself and counting off on her fingers before she nodded. "It can be done, Master. It _will_ be done."

"Good girl. As for the rest of you..." He pointed to the map, and two of the lit points darkened. "Bestine and Mos Entha are _fairly_ safe, and the majority of the planet's criminal enterprises are conducted elsewhere, most notably Mos Eisley and Mos Espa." Kenobi frowned and regarded the map, considered his options, and then tapped another point on the map, darkening it. "I will handle Jabba's Palace _before_ we begin the attack on the planet."

"The second you attack the Palace, Kenobi, the entire planet is going to be up in arms," Vos drawled.

"Who said anything about _attacking_ the Palace, Quin?" Vos flushed deeply as he shut his mouth. "I have a plan. The Palace will fall into my control, and when it does, the criminals in the city will lose their support. They will be trapped, and they will _all_ die."

"You're _so_ hot when you talk like that, Obi," Vos drawled, and the Sith Lord flashed him a wicked grin.

"After the palace falls, Barriss will detonate the explosives, which will leave the cities in chaos.. I am going to drop rancors in Mos Eisley and Mos Espa and have them do what they do best. In the chaos, we kill them all."

"That seems simple enough," Boba said, his young voice brimming with confidence, and it earned him an affectionate hair ruffling from Cody.

"Don't get cocky, boy, there are a lot of people in those two towns," the clone said softly, and the teen scoffed loudly, rolling his eyes.

"Yes, but the rancors are _invincible_ , aren't they?"

"Nearly, but I had one killed not too long ago by a Jedi," Kenobi said, pulling up the details on his three remaining targets. "There won't be much this backwards planet will have to stop them, though, you're right about that." He enlarged the image of one of the remaining locations, a small city that made those gathered around the table groan in dismissal of the relatively tiny target. "Don't be upset, this is a small target, but an important one. Our mission starts here, in Mos Shuuta. Jabba has a relative here called Teemo, and he rules this city. We will move in and execute all of them while Barriss takes the _Umbra_ and sets her explosives. If we move fast enough, _nobody_ will know what's happened."

"That shouldn't be a problem," Vos drawled, touching the holographic image and observing the town. "It isn't very big, and it doesn't look like they have anything in terms of a communication's array."

"They will, but it will be in the palace," Kenobi said. "Cody will disrupt the communications before we land." The clone gave the Sith Lord a thumb's up to signify the simplicity of the task. "After that..." He touched the map, the point signifying Mos Shuuta going dark as he observed the data of the other two cities. "Quinlan, you will take the rancor and go to Mos Espa. Barriss, Cody, Boba, you will take Yoda and go to Mos Eisley. When I give the signal, Barriss will detonate the explosives, you will release the rancors, and you will begin to attack. I will join you as soon as I am able. Are we understood?"

"Perfectly, my Lord," Cody said, and the others at the table nodded in agreement.

"Remember," Kenobi said softly. "Timing is key to our success. One slip, and we will have the Republic on the ground. We don't want that." Everyone mumbled their acknowledgments of their directives, and Kenobi smiled at his team. "Alright, let's get moving. May the Force be with us, friends."

* * *

The plan, so far, had been executed flawlessly. Mos Shuuta had been caught completely unawares, and between two rampaging rancors, two clone Mandalorian warriors, and two fallen Jedi, nobody stood any chance of escape at all. They had even managed to capture Teemo the Hutt instead of simply executing him, which Kenobi did not expect to accomplish. Barriss had even returned in record time, all her charges set except for the ones at Mos Eisley, which she insisted on keeping watch over herself due to the crowds, and would set them as soon as Kenobi dropped the team off.

So it was with great confidence that he landed the _Umbra_ , the ship cloaked to be hidden from sight and scanners, on the landing dock of Jabba's Palace, and he breathed deep of the hot, dry air when he stepped outside the ship, filtered through the breathing apparatus of his horned Mandalorian helmet, his black robes draped over and around the armor he wore. There was something nostalgic about being on Tatooine again after so many years. So much had happened the last time he was here. He had felt the Dark Side for the first time, sharp and cold and frightening, a feel that he would come to embrace, come to love, come to feel balanced in. They had discovered the Sith, hidden after a thousand years of silence, and in a few short years, Kenobi would come to join them in their fight against the Jedi. That same Sith they discovered would go on to be defeated at the hands of a Padawan, would rise from death itself, would kill a Queen and the young Prince inside her. They discovered Anakin, a vergence in the Force, a Jedi that Kenobi would come to oppose...

For such a forgettable planet, a great deal sure did happen here.

Obi-Wan stood before the large, sealed door of the palace, his eyes roving over the thick, solid metal, looking for a weakness, a crease, a crack, anything, but found none, which meant the door opened vertically. It was an old, primitive design, but he expected nothing less from this planet. If it came to it, even a door as large as this could be lifted with the Force. He pressed the button at the side of the door, heard the whirring of mechanics on the other side, and a small hatch opened and an eye on a long stalk extended to look at the visitor.

"Hi chuba da naga?" the creature clicked in thick, accented Huttese, and Kenobi rolled his eyes. He _did_ speak Huttese, but he found the language base, crass, and far below his station. Sith Hells, he was a _kriffing Lord_ , not some corpulent slug.

"Nu'sua Tsis," Kenobi said in Sith, which he knew would go without understanding to the base creature beyond the door. "Liepti Jabba anas jiso ari kash'stai." The large, round eye stared at him in silence, observing the warrior that stood before the palace doors, and Kenobi rolled his eyes and grabbed the eyestalk with a gauntlet-clad hand. "Rejorhaa'ir Jabba te Prudii'alor cuyir olar par gar," he growled, this time in Mando'a, and the eye widened not just in pain, but with a considerable amount of fear. "Meh kaysh nayc copad ibic me'suum at hettir, kaysh Kelir haa'taylir ni." _Tell Jabba the Shadow King is here. If he doesn't want this planet to burn, he will see me_.

He released the creature, and it swiftly withdrew, the small hatch closing with a resounding bang. Kenobi waited, hands clasped in front of him, his head bowed, and waited, counting in his head to ten, and just as he drew deep of the Force to grasp the door, the mechanisms began to grind and the heavy metal groaned as is rose. When the spiked bottom of the door was high enough to pass under, Kenobi strode inside the large, darkened hall, the inside of the palace resembling an abandoned factory more than any kind of luxury home as he expected out of a wealthy crime lord, though, he suspected that expecting taste out of a Hutt was like expecting Quinlan to _not_ drink and whore his way to an early grave.

A white skinned Twi'lek male in a long, black robe rushed to meet him, his tall form stooped in submission, his hands wringing nervously, his lekku wrapped around his shoulders, the length of them denoting his age. "Master," the man spoke through a mouth filled with filed, sharpened teeth, "do you speak Galactic Basic?"

"Do I appear to be a savage to you, filth?"

"No, no!" the Twi'lek said, bowing deeper and keeping his hands out in front of him. "I apologize if I have offended. His Grace Lord Jabba has been expecting you, Shadow King." Kenobi gestured with his hand for the Twi'lek to lead the way, and bowing profusely, the man started down the hall with the Sith Lord trailing slowly behind him. After a moment of silence, the Twi'lek slowed, coming to stand beside the Sith and matching his ponderous pace. "Are you here to kill Jabba?" he asked, his red eyes wide, the ends of his lekku twitching, and the fearsome visage of the Mandalorian warrior looked at the creature, observing him, and he shivered, focusing on the points of yellow light that could be seen through the T shape of the helmet's visor.

"That has yet to be determined," Kenobi said softly, the helmet giving his voice a cold, metallic ring that unnerved the Twi'lek. "Why. Would that displease you?"

"...not at all." Chuckling softly, Kenobi followed the Twi'lek the rest of the way in silence to the chamber where Jabba ruled from. The room was loud, crowded and dimly lit, the air filled with smoke and the tables occupied by criminals and mercenaries all watching with hungry looks at the scantily clad Twi'lek females, slaves forced to preform for Jabba's pleasure. Many of the patrons were drunk or sat in a spice haze, which would greatly benefit the Sith Lord were the negotiation to go south. Kenobi's eyes roved around the room, observing _everything_ , from the slaves to the Gamorrean guards, and determined that nothing here posed a significant threat.

"You stand before the great and mighty Jabba the Hutt," a protocol droid announced as Kenobi approached, the Twi'lek leaving his side to climb up the steps where Jabba lay sprawled. He whispered something into the great slug's auditory canal, and the big, yellow hued eyes widened, his apparent distress silencing the noisy room. Jabba leaned forward to observe the Mandalorian before him.

"U chowbaso unko," Jabba said in his deep, languid voice.

"The Great Jabba-"

"Send your translator away, Hutt," Kenobi said sharply, interrupting the flustered droid. "I understand your filthy language." Jabba growled, a low, deep rumbling in his massive body, and with a wave of his hand, the droid walked stiffly away. They stared at each other for a long while before Kenobi quietly said, "You know why I'm here."

" _I don't_ ," Jabba rumbled, his deep voice in accented Huttese that Kenobi could barely understand, and for a moment, he nearly put aside his hubris and asked for the translator back. The language was easier to understand when not fouled by the lolling, thick tongues of the Hutts, though this being _their_ language, Kenobi found it almost amusing that _other_ species spoke it better than them. " _The planet hasn't burned, and I'm still alive, so you must want something, Shadow King._ "

"...the leaders of the Pyke Syndicate and the Black Sun are dead, as are the entirety of their organizations," he said swiftly, the casualness of his tone making the lawless creatures in the room shift uncomfortably. "The leaders of the crime families that joined the Shadow Collective all died on Mandalore when I arrived. Among the dead were three Hutts." The long, thick body of the Hutt rippled with tension, those wide eyes narrowing in anger at the possibility of a threat. "Shebba, Jiliac, and Boorka, and I have been given to understand that two of those were your kin. Is that correct?"

" _If you come before me to threaten me_ -"

"I don't make threats, Jabba, I just _kill people_ ," Kenobi snarled. "If I wanted to kill you, you would already be dead, along with the rest of the planet, but..." He sighed, his hand running over the sloping horns on his helmet. " _You_ weren't on Mandalore. Neither were the other members of the Hutt Council, which makes me think that your involvement in the Shadow Collective was reluctant."

" _And if it was_?"

"I know it was. I captured Maul, and I opened his mind and he showed me _everything_." He began laughing, the images that he had seen in the Zabrak's head flashing before his eyes as fires burned at the edge of his vision. He grit his teeth, laughing between them and grasped for control, but he was swiftly losing it. Without the Hutts, the Shadow Collective wouldn't have had the strength to conquer Mandalore. Perhaps it was reluctant, but they were just as guilty as the rest. They had to burn. _All of them_.

_No_. He snarled, shut his eyes against the visions, but the flames remained. He couldn't lose control, not now, not when he had a job to do. Not when Republic eyes were watching Tatooine. Not when he stood in a trap and was dangerously close to tripping the mechanism to close it around him.

" _If you know the truth_ ," Jabba slowly grumbled, " _then you have no business with the Hutts. We have distanced ourselves from the Collective as soon as we were able_."

"Yes, but you were still involved, you still must suffer for what has happened. After all, the attack would have been impossible without Hutt support."

" _And yet, you are here talking_."

"I am," Kenobi drawled, taking a deep breath and centering himself in the Force, and with a wash of the cold running through him, the flames began to ease, giving way to his focus. "Because I'm here to propose a deal. In recognition of your...reluctance to aid that savage, I'm going to let you live. That is conditional, of course," Kenobi said, a tense, manic chuckle laying underneath his words. "I'll allow you to live so long as you inform the Hutt Council on Nal Hutta that you've made peace with the Mandalorians, and we are to be welcomed on your planet to solidify our alliance."

There was silence for a long while as Jabba stared at the human in disbelief, and then slowly, he began to laugh, loud and hearty, and as he went on, the rest of the room erupted in uproarious laughter, as if someone had told the galaxy's greatest joke. Kenobi just stood there in silence, his hands folded before him, and reached into the Force, centering himself and feeling the lives of the creatures around him, sickly and pathetic and desperate, save for the mighty form of the Hutt. Like Toydarians, the species was said to be immune to Force manipulation, but Obi-Wan knew better. He had broken Hutts before. It just took a stronger hand.

" _You have grown weak, Shadow King_ ," Jabba said as he continued to laugh, his whole body seemingly involved in the enterprise. " _If you had the strength to conquer the Hutts, you would have no need to be here before me. Why should I give you what you want when you have the power to do nothing without my allowing it_."

"As I said, for your life, Jabba," Kenobi whispered, the room growing silent again, and everyone leaning forward to listen to his words. "I'm giving you an option to choose on your own, but I don't need to give you a choice. Really, I'm just giving you and option at all for... _myself_." He smiled under his helmet. "Just to feel like me again, it's been _so long_ since I've done this." His fingers on the hand by his side splayed, and he pointed at the Twi'lek at Jabba's side. "You. Bring me Rotta the Hutt." The white-skinned Twi'lek stared blankly at the man for a moment, and then slowly bowed, muttering his obediance as he left the room, and Jabba stared at him, wide eyes filled with fear.

" _You weak-minded fool!_ " he cried after his servant. " _Don't you fall for that Jedi trick_!" But it was too late. The Twi'lek was gone, and when Jabba turned furious eyes on the Mandalorian king before him, he could see all the people in the room, criminal and bounty hunters, murderers and thieves, all still, shaking, their blasters held in their hands and pointed directly at the eminent Hutt. " _Who are you_ ," Jabba demanded, his thick, deep voice shaking with rage. " _What are you_."

"I," Kenobi drawled, casually stepping forward, "am a Lord of the Sith, the Master of all I see, yourself included, Jabba the Hutt."

" _Your Jedi tricks will not work on me, Shadow King_ ," the Hutt growled, deep and savage and betraying a danger within him that would have frightened anyone but the man before him. After all, a Sith feels no fear.

"I think you'll find that not to be true, my friend," Kenobi drawled softly as he fished a holodisc out of the folds of the robes that covered his armor. He switched it on, and the image of a Hutt floated in blue above it, the creature beaten and shaking with pain, and Jabba leaned in, looking closely at the image, his tail thrashing in his agitation. "You recognize Teemo, don't you?" Kenobi said. "I hear you're family. I have him held captive in my ship. He has nowhere else to go, since I slaughtered everyone in Mos Shuuta." Jabba howled in furry, his tail whipping ferociously in his anger, and a sudden discharge from a blaster one of the criminals was holding struck the base of the platform on which the slug lay. The Hutt went still, his eyes wide, the warning shot taken _very_ seriously.

"Now, we are going to be _calm_ , Jabba," Kenobi said serenely, his mask filtering out any warmth in his voice and making him sound cold and removed. "We're discussing business here, after all." The Twi'lek returned, in is hand held a small bundle with a wriggling Huttlet inside. He handed the child to the Sith Lord, and he took it, quietly cooing to the young creature when he felt Jabba's gaze fixed on him, filled with fear and desperation. "Here's how this is going to work, Jabba," he said softly. "Deny me again, and I'm going to execute your kin Teemo. Deny me after that, and I'll feed your child to my rancor, and that vicious beast likes to play with his food. The child won't last long, I'm afraid, but while he does live, that rancor will make him _suffer_. And if you're still resisting me after that, I'm going to break your mind and take what I want anyway, and when I'm done, I'll kill you too."

Resignation and understanding fell over the Hutt as he looked around the room at the people within, their guns trained on him, not as a serious threat, but as a show of force, at the Twi'lek that served him, his red eyes blank and mindless as he stood under the thrall of the clearly Force sensitive Mandalorian, at Rotta, the young child squirming in the gentle grasp of the Shadow King, the child clearly suffering no pain of fear as he lay in the comforting arms of a father, though Jabba knew this not to be the case. The Shadow King was going to be a father, though, until the Shadow Collective destroyed that, and now he stood as a cruel mockery of parental affection. That man's hands would just as soon deliver Rotta to safety as they would deliver him to the huge, feral rancor he was known to keep.

" _What sort of Jedi are you_?" Jabba asked, his deep, thick voice calm as he looked at the man, his black and red armor interwoven with the black robes of a Jedi appearing far more intimidating than either could be apart. A cold, cruel chuckle was his response.

"I am no Jedi at all."

" _You're the Negotiator_ ," he said with sudden understanding, and the warrior seemed to draw back, almost in surprise, almost as if he were hearing a name long forgotten.

"Yes..." he said slowly. "The Negotiator, yes, that's me. Though it has been a long time since I have been called such. I was...a different man then." He shook his head, clutching the Huttlet to him, and grinned wickedly when he felt Jabba's presence strain with terror and understanding of what he was actually dealing with. "Don't be afraid, Jabba," Kenobi drawled. "This arrangement will work out for both of us. You do this thing for me, and not only will you show Mandalore that you stand by them in defiance of the _murderers_ that killed their queen, but you show your desire for alliance by executing the scum that sits on the Hutt Council."

" _Many of which are family to me_ ," the Hutt growled.

"Yes," Kenobi said, nodding. "But you are no stranger to killing family for personal gain. And the Hutts still must pay for what happened to Satine. Without _them_ , the Shadow Collective lacked the strength to attack Mandalore, and it is my understanding that the support came from Nal Hutta and Nar Shadda, _not_ Tatooine. Is that correct?"

"... _yes_."

"Which puts _them_ at fault!" Kenobi snarled, the weight of his anger stirring the Force, and the child in his grasp began to squirm uncomfortably and cry. Blazing yellow points from behind the helmet's visor silenced the Huttlet. "I understand being forced and coerced, I do it _all_ the time myself, but if the Hutts knew what was good for them, they would have done as you did and sit on their hands." Kenobi shrugged. "So they need to die. One command, Jabba, and I will wipe out all the slugs that sit on your Council, leaving _you_ as the sole leader of the Hutt Cartel." Greed flashed in the Hutt's eyes, and Kenobi knew he had him.

" _But you will destroy the cartel_."

"I will destroy Nal Hutta," he softly confirmed. "And when I am finished here with you, I will destroy Mos Eisley and Mos Espa." The Hutt reared up aggressively, a deep, dangerous growl reverberating through his huge body, and Kenobi held up a hand, projecting calm through the Force, which managed to take the edge off the slug. "Which leaves _you_ , Jabba, to pick up the pieces and rebuild as you see fit, and this planet and all of Hutt Space will have _you_ to thank, the savior that came to save them in their hour of need. This galaxy has no shortage of criminal scum, and every single one of them is _terrified_ of the Mandalorian wrath. With Bo-Katan ruling Hutt Space under the banner of the Mandalorians, you will find yourself with a _powerful_ ally and the means to take out your competition."

" _The Mandalorians stand against the Hutts._ "

" _No_ , the Mandalorians stand against the _Shadow Collective_ , which the Hutts are a part of, and with the destruction of Nal Hutta, the Hutts will be taken care of, with a little help from their reticent ally Jabba."

Jabba frowned, his stubby arms scratching at the fleshy folds of his chin as he considered it. " _Mandalore will rule Hutt Space_."

"Yes. And _you_ will rule the criminals that infest it." Kenobi shrugged. "I'd rather have that filth answering to you than to nobody. I'm not an idiot, we can't purge all crime from the galaxy. But we _can_ purge the organizations that run it, and I've already destroyed your biggest competitors."

" _The Mandalorians_ -"

"Will do _exactly_ as I say, Jabba," Kenobi said quickly, sensing the slug's concern. "You will be an ally to them, so long as you do not make yourself a threat. And besides," he said casually, approaching the enormous Hutt and handing the squirming child back to its father, "I sense that this arrangement will come to be of great benefit to me someday." He held his hand out to the creature. "And to you as well, since you won't be _dead_. Do we have a deal?"

Jabba took the Sith Lord's hand without hesitation, Rotta clutched tightly to his chest.

"Excellent!" Kenobi chirped. "When I return to my ship, I will release Teemo, and then I _highly_ suggest that you stay inside. It's going to get messy out there."

" _Is the destruction necessary_?" Jabba asked, and Kenobi nodded.

"Oh, it is. Understand, my friend, that this is a strike against the Republic, not you. The lawlessness that will rise from this will only benefit you, when the Republic fails to defend them against us, the people of Tatooine will turn to _you_." Jabba nodded, a wash of relief filling him as the grip of the Force released on the occupants of the room, and they all collapsed limply into their seats, breathing hard and ragged and on the brink of unconsciousness. The Sith Lord turned and left the room, the com in his helmet activating as he contacted his team and told them to commence the attack.

* * *

It was chaos, and it was _beautiful_. So beautiful in it's destruction, so divine in the death that was swiftly brought that Obi-Wan hardly noticed when the fires of the buildings burning around him became fires that burned in his mind. Perhaps the buildings weren't burning at all. Perhaps the smoke and flames were just visions brought on by the insanity that raged within him. He didn't know, and he didn't care. The city was burning. Everything was burning, and it was _beautiful_ , a masterpiece that soothed and fulfilled him like nothing had since the day Ord Mantell burned, it's destruction tearing a wound in the Force so deep, so complete that he could feel it even now. Yoda roared beneath him, the wrathful creature charging through everything in sight, the swirling red and gold of his eyes reflecting his Master's perfectly as he followed every movement he saw with the fierce commitment of a predator driven not to kill for need, but to murder for the pleasure of it. Obi-Wan wondered if the beast saw the flames too.

The explosions had the desired effect, destroying the spaceport and creating chaos driven by fear of attackers they could not see, and when the rancor was released, even the bravest of those in the city were sent running, scrambling for their lives right into the blasterfire of Cody and Boba Fett. Those the warriors missed were cut down by Barriss, the quiet girl a dangerous whirlwind of red blades that mercilessly cut down all in her path, meeting her mission for her Sith Master with cold, bloody brutality. She wasn't the experienced talent that Quinlan was, but she was small and unassuming, a girl easily but wrongly looked over, a thing she took advantage of even now in the chaos of a city under attack.

When the Sith Lord's boots hit the dusty ground of the streets, it was all over, the fury of the Force he commanded ripping everything around him to shreds, crumbling stone huts to sand and bending the metal of larger structures into unrecognizable lumps. Obi-Wan had never felt so powerful, so one with the Force, so _insane_ as he did now, his madness driving him so deep within the Dark Side that there was nothing left but wrath and hatred as he struggled in the grasp of darkness. Perhaps Padme's defilement would not hurt Anakin Skywalker, but from what Barriss had said, the destruction of his home world would draw the Jedi right into his grasp.

It took longer than anticipated for the Republic to mobilize against them, and it wasn't until Quinlan arrived in the city with the second rancor that they saw Republic ships in the sky, not just a small division, but _thousands_. Fighters and carriers and transports and gunships filling the atmosphere like a swarm of insects released from the might of the Start Destroyer that hung low in the sky, the ships not just flying to Mos Eisley, but _everywhere_ , in all directions. Even with the stealth of the _Umbra_ , escape seemed unlikely. Being caught in the trap was enough to clear the flames from Kenobi's sight, and he ordered a quick retreat, and without delay, the rancors, the clones, and the fallen Jedi all rushed to the safety of the _Umbra_ , the ship sitting cloaked and quietly humming, the engines prepared and awaiting the command for flight.

Obi-Wan threw himself into the pilot's seat, activated all the sensor's, and found that not only was the Republic, in fact, swarming the entire planet, but they were actively searching for the stealthed ship. With a hiss of frustration, he lifted the ship out of the sand, hovering no higher than a speeder would, and pressed the acceleration forward, the ship skimming effortlessly over the dunes of sand and away from the burning city, keeping low to avoid the notice of the Republic's scanners.

"We can't outrun them forever, Kenobi!" Vos said, standing behind the pilot's sead and grasping his friend's shoulders. "Can you fly out of this mess?"

"I don't think so..." he mumbled. "We can avoid their scanners, but they aren't looking for us with standard scanners, they're scanning _specifically_ for stealth. _Barriss_!"

"Yes, Master?" the girl said softly as she poked her head into the cockpit, her green face speckled with dust and blood.

"Where did you say Skywalker kept his family?" he asked swiftly, grabbing Quinlan by the wrist and throwing him into the pilot's seat when he got up.

"I didn't say," she said, allowing the Sith Lord to guide her to the co-pilot's chair as he began rapidly undoing the clasps of his armor and dropping it into one of the passenger seats as he shed it. "But he did talk about locations," she mumbled, punching in the names into the navicomputer. "His brother got a speeder at Anchorhead, they went together to pick up parts for it at Tosche Station..."

"The name of the brother?" Kenobi asked as he pulled his tunic and robes on, the black cloth draping over his thin form, the Sith Lord cutting a much less intimidating figure without the armor.

"Owen Lars, Master," she said quietly, watching the computer flash and beep as it mapped the entered locations with their current one. The radar screen was blaring red with ships overhead. "He has a girlfriend, Beru, and they are moisture farmers." She squinted her eyes to look at the readings. "Both Anchorhead and Tosche Station are located on the Great Chott salt flat of the Jundland Wastes."

"We can't go to either of those places, Barriss," Vos growled, even as he moved the ship around to head toward the desert waste indicated on the navigation system. "If it's a settlement, you better believe that the Republic is going to be there."

"We aren't going to a settlement, Quin," Kenobi said as he retook the pilot's seat. "We're going to a moisture farm, and I'll put credits on the farm we're looking for being located in the region Barriss has given us."

Nobody said anything after that. They just watched as mile after mile of barren rock and sandy dune swiftly past them by, the presence of ships above them thinning as time passed on, the Republic might converging on the cities and towns they were trying to defend or save with only a minimal scouting force flying over the expanse of barren wasteland. Large, black clouds of ships hovered above the cities and towns, casting long, dark shadows on the settlements below them. If it weren't a trap, with Republic presence on the world and the threat of the hunter Admiral Tarkin in the skies overhead, Kenobi would have thought is ominously beautiful. He considered once or twice trying to make a run for it, pulling back on the yoke to send the ship into the skies above, but the incessant beeping of warning lights on the central console alerted him to the danger of the scans that were trying to lock on to his ship. Any higher, and they would be in clear range of their sensors, and while Kenobi was a good pilot, perhaps even a great one, he was not confident in his ability to escape the obvious trap. Besides, some things were more important anyway, and making contact with Anakin Skywalker's family was paramount in his mind.

"Cody!" he called over his shoulder, and smiled when the man's voice echoed down the hallway. "Get you and Fett out of armor, I want you two looking like civilians." The affirmative answer was shouted back at him just as Quinlan pointed out the forward viewport.

"There!" Quinlan shouted, pointing at a speck in the distance, a rounded globe that rose out of the sand, the tall, metal rods of the vaporators rising around it. It was a moisture farm, and Kenobi had a feeling it was the right one. He pushed the accelerator forward, speeding faster over the sand toward it, pulling back as they drew near, and when he saw the large, dug down crater in the rock and sand, no doubt built to keep the homestead cool, he lifted the _Umbra_ up and slowly descended into the wide hole, the ship's powerful engines kicking up sand and dust as they set down within the home. Obi-Wan quickly powered the ship off, shutting off all systems to keep the Republic from being able to detect it on scanners. He extended the boarding ramp, and with a final flick of a switch, the ship powered down with a low whine, sitting inert in the hole deep within the sands.

When Kenobi exited the ship, a young man with a slugthrower rifle stood, the weapon primed and ready to shoot, and Kenobi immediately threw his hands up in the air as he looked down the long barrel of the primitive weapon. Such a thing didn't use plasma rounds like modern blasters, which meant deflecting the rounds with a lightsaber wasn't possible.

"Wait, don't shoot!" he cried, affecting his voice with mild panic, and the man simply took aim.

"Who are you and what do you want?" he asked gruffly, and Kenobi relaxed visibly with a sigh of relief.

"Are you Owen Lars?" The man looked up curiously, and Kenobi flashed him a warm, easy smile.

"I'm a Jedi Knight, Anakin Skywalker told me to come here if we were ever in need of help." He dropped his weapon and stood up tall, watching with interest as four more people exited the sleek craft, a father and son, from the look of it, and lightsabers attached to the hips of the other two. _More Jedi_. Owen gasped, dropped his slugthrower to the ground, and clasped the man's hand tightly in his own. The sand blond Jedi seemed to be of age with Anakin, and Owen couldn't help but wonder if this was one of his half brother's many friends.

"Of course I'll help you," he said warmly, pointing up to the skies where ships periodically passed. "Do you know what's going on up there? All our communications have been disrupted, but there are thousands of ships in the sky. Has the war finally made its way out here?"

He nodded, sensing the boy's confusion and silently thanked the Force for this forgotten planet. The locals seemed to know nothing. "The major cities are under attack. There's too many of us to fight on our own, we were just here to solve a matter regarding the Hutts." He pointed back to the ramp where the other four stood. "That's Cody and his son, Boba. Their farm was destroyed in the attacks, and we only just managed to save them."

"We thought it was the Tuscans that would come for us," Boba said, his voice cracking and afraid. "I never thought it would be anything else that destroyed us..."

"I understand..." Owen said softly, his head dropping slightly.

"These are my fellow Jedi," Kenobi said as the two came to stand beside him. "This is Luminara Unduli and Quinlan Vos."

"...Quinlan Vos?" Owen asked, his mouth gaping, and for a moment, Obi-Wan was ceratin he may have made a mistake until the boy grabbed the Kiffar's hand and shook it vigorously. "Anakin has told me _so_ much about you!" the farmer said excitedly, and a cocky grin spread across Vos' face. Kenobi groaned. It would take forever to beat the man's ego back to acceptable levels. "Please, if I can help the Jedi, just tell me what to do!"

"We just need to lay low while all this blows over," Quinlan said firlmy, pointing up to the sky, and Owen nodded in understanding. "Well, friends of Anakin are friends of mine. Do we need to hide your ship?"

"Oh," Vos drawled, "that would be _extremely_ useful." As Owen, Barriss and Quinlan began ruffling around the open space for tarps and long swaths of cloth to cover the ship, Obi-Wan strode off, digging through his robe when he felt his comlink vibrate against him, and answered the device, projecting the small form of Bo-Katan in blue above it.

"So we were just contacted by Gorga, Arok, Oruba and Marlo of the Hutt Ruling Council on Nal Hutta," she drawled, her voice smooth and pleased. "They're welcoming us to their planet as honored guests in honor of our new alliance. They've sent us all the proper security clearance to pass through Hutt Space safely." She smirked. "Your doing, I take it?"

"Yes, but send your thanks to Jabba the Hutt for making it possible," he said softly, looking over his shoulder to make certain he wasn't overheard. "We're in alliance with _him_ , not the other Hutts."

The woman's eyes lit up as she sharply inhaled. "So we are cleared for attack?"

"This isn't an attack, it's an invasion," he drawled. "When Nal Hutta is destroyed, all of Hutt Space will belong to Mandalore. We will see our Empire rise again, and it will begin _here_. The Hutts have already carved it out for us. It would be a shame to waste it."

Bo-Katan was speechless for a moment, before she said in a shaking voice, "Our revenge will finally be complete."

"Yes. And consider your Empire a gift to mark the occasion." The woman nodded, her sharp features set in fierce determination. "Commence the attack when ready, Bo-Katan. Ib'tuur jatne tuur ash'ad kyr'amur. Make it count."

"We will not fail you, Shadow King," she said, bowing as the com shut off, her blue image blinking out of existence. Kenobi turned just in time to see Owen and the others finish concealing his ship, the farmer brushing the dust off his pants as he approached the Sith Lord, a warm smile on his face.

"Any word from my brother?" he asked, and Kenobi nodded, smiling softly.

"Busy with the war, as it would have it, but he _did_ just get married to a girl, so I hear."

Owen looked pleasantly shocked to hear this, his already wide grin becoming wider. "I knew he was seeing someone. I didn't think Jedi were allowed to-"

"We aren't," Kenobi quickly explained. "But Anakin isn't your typical Jedi, now is he?"

" _This is great_!" Owen cried excitedly. "I only just got married myself!" He laughed heartilly. "Anakin and I have always been a bit similar, even if we're not related by blood."

"Tatooine boys need to stick together, don't they?" Kenobi said slyly, reaching out through the Force to get the measure of the man and found him... _important_? No, not quite that, but somehow, Obi-Wan felt as though he already knew the young farmer. He had intended on killing the man and his girlfriend turned wife, but now he wasn't so sure. Something else was at work, and the Force needed to be obeyed.

"You might be waiting here for a while," Owen said, the excitement barely contained. "Do you want to come in? Can we get you anything? You're welcome to stay here as long as you need!"

Obi-Wan bowed slightly. "We would be honored and grateful, Master Lars," he said softly. "And while we're at it, you can tell us _all_ about yourself and Anakin. I'm certain it will be _fascinating_."


	96. Mire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternatively called "Anakin's Worst Day Ever," or, "How I Got Myself into an Emotional Mess and Went to Bed With a Sith Lord."

It took three days for the entire galaxy to fall to pieces. Three days, and it had chosen to do so during Anakin's extended shore leave. It had been a necessity for Skywalker so he could feel balanced once again after his rash of temper when he found out about Padmé, her infidelity, and the apparent Sith manipulation of her mind. His time was spent evenly between meditation with Qui-Gon and working things out with Padmé. It was going well enough, though talks with Padmé had been difficult at first, with Qui-Gon to cool the passions of them both, they managed to reach an easy peace, enough to sit down and talk without the conversation drifting inexorably toward Padmé's affair with the Sith Lord, or the physical violence Anakin had resorted to when he found out.

They differed in opinion on nearly every matter, from politics to social issues, from the role of the Senators to the place of the Jedi. Their talks became debates, which became nearly arguments, and through it, Anakin could feel her passion, the strength of her conviction and resolve, and it made him lover her all the more, remember why he had loved her in the first place. It seemed she felt the same, because the two of them often found themselves breaking off talking early in favor of flushed and heated passions, afternoons extending into nights extending into mornings in the warm confines of her bed, long enough to make them _both_ late for their duties. It was almost enough for Anakin to forget that Padmé had been unfaithful, even if it _was_ the doing of the Sith, almost enough for him to forget that Kenobi's hands had been over her, that he had been _inside_ her. When he and his lovely Senator were joined, he could almost feel Kenobi's presence inside her, swore he felt the culmination of their lust within her, could _see_ their animalistic lusts every time he closed his eyes...

Qui-Gon helped, as he always did. He helped him let go, helped him understand that the more he was invested in Padmé, the easier it would be for Kenobi to manipulate him, the more likely it was that Obi-Wan would seek her out once again. It made _perfect_ sense, of course, and Anakin was struggling with it. It was terribly difficult to distance himself from Padmé, even as a simple exercise, and while he _could_ do it, it required the entirety of his focus and Qui-Gon present to walk him through it. What _didn't_ leave, though, was the almost maddening desire to destroy the Sith, but mostly, his wrath was focused on Kenobi, the face of the monsters that were manipulating his beloved. _Everyone_ agreed that the Sith must be destroyed, but for Anakin, it had become dangerously personal, so personal that Qui-Gon had suggested that he leave the hunting of Kenobi to another Jedi, as Anakin was tipping dangerously into the realm of revenge, a pool he had drank from before, and must never again.

Anakin disagreed, of course, and claimed that when the time came, he would do what must be done, the _way_ it must be done. After all, with his additional time with Padme soothing the wound in his heart, he knew it would be alright. Still, all the talking, all the time spent, all the passionate nights together they shared left Anakin thinking that it still was not enough, so with that in mind, he suggested again that they get married, the hope that binding them together in such a way would bridge the gaps he felt were there. She agreed, of course, and the two of them rushed to Naboo on a _diplomatic mission_ , the Senator and her Jedi guardian, and were quietly married in her luxurious estate. It was everything Anakin had hoped for, and when they had consummated their vows, things felt different for him. This was _just_ what they had needed. Perhaps love alone wasn't enough, but love plus a vow of dedication like marriage could serve as the bridge to keep them close, even when he was away for extended periods of time.

Three days of marital bliss were brought to an abrupt, disappointing end when Anakin had returned to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant to find that the galaxy had, in fact, fallen to pieces while he was enjoying his honeymoon on Naboo. This was demonstrated no better than by the hologram of Admiral Tarkin, a man known for his legendary composure, finally losing his _shit_.

" _And you_!" Tarkin had shouted, pointing an accusing finger at Anakin when he entered, the General's appearance interrupting the Admiral's rant. From the look on Mace's face, the interruption was _extremely_ welcome. " _Three days, General_! You have answered _no_ calls, _no_ messages, _where have you been_?!"

"Relax, Chancellor Palpatine sent me to escort Senator Amidala to Naboo for-"

" _Relax?!_ " Tarkin gasped, highly offended, and his outrage was beginning to burn the tips of Anakin's ears with embarrassment. "I will _not_ relax, General, you have _abandoned your post_! And in your absence, our favorite Separatist menace _attacked Tatooine_."

"...w-what?" Anakin felt the blood drain out of his face, his breathing stopped, his heart pounded furiously in his chest. "You got him, Tarkin," Anakin head himself say, but his voice sounded distant, distorted, far away, as if he were speaking underwater. "You defended the planet and you captured Kenobi, like we talked about. You called in the ships from Geonosis, you crushed the Mandalorians, and you _blockaded the system, right Tarkin_?!"

A furious laugh came from behind Tarkin's clenched teeth. "Oh, I called the fleet in, General. _Seven_ Star Destroyers came to our aid, we had hundreds of thousands of ships in the air! Republic forces swarmed the planet and it wasn't enough to save it."

Anakin's fist clenched by his side. " _The Mandalorians_ -"

" _Weren't there, General_!" the Admiral snapped. " _No_ ships were there. The attack began from the ground!"

Anakin didn't know what to say. The cold lump in his chest told him it was Kenobi, but if no ships were in the system, than something had changed. "Maybe Jabba-"

Tarkin scoffed and stopped the Jedi's train of thought. "What purpose would Jabba have in attacking his own planet? No, this was Kenobi, and he came to the planet under the cover of stealth in the _Umbra_." The galaxy map extended and focused in on Tatooine, where Tarkin swiftly began tapping points on the planet's surface that lit up. "Mos Entha and Bestine experienced explosions which completely destroyed their spaceports, but suffered no further damage. Mos Shuuta, Mos Espa, and Mos Eisley all experienced total destruction. The casualties so far total over eighty thousand, and the number continues to rise as we find more bodies."

" _How can he destroy that much with no army_?!" Anakin shouted, his heart pounding so hard he couldn't hear anything for the beating in his ears. "The _Umbra_ isn't _that big_ , it can't fit a force big enough to cause that kind of damage!"

"Witnesses reporting two rancors beg to differ. _Sir_." Anakin shook his head in disbelief as the damage reports appeared for him to examine. It was _impossible_ to cause this much damage without an army, even with two rancors. This wasn't just one city, this was _all_ of them, and maybe they didn't all face complete annihilation like Mos Eisley, but they all had been attacked simultaneously. "We would have launched a counter-offensive sooner, General," Tarkin said again, "but it took us some time to identify the cause of the attacks, and we have been forbidden from interfering in Hutt affairs. It took valuable time for us to rule out their involvement."

"My brother's down there, Tarkin," Anakin whispered, his voice quivering with unrestrained fear. "Is my brother safe?"

"How should I know that, General?" the Admiral growled. "I don't know _who_ your brother is, or where he lives, but if he was located in one of the cities at the time of the attacks, than there's a good chance he is dead."

With a whimper of absolute panic, Anakin whipped out his comlink and immediately put in a call to Owen, muttering for him to pick up under his breath as the device beeped, trying to establish a connection. After a minute, the call dropped, and with a curse, Anakin called again. This was a direct assault on his family, he _knew_ it was. First Padmé, and now his brother, but _how_ had Kenobi known about them? If anything had happened to them, _anything at all..._

This time, the call went through, and an out of breath Beru stood smiling at Anakin. Skywalker breathed a heavy sigh of relief, his body relaxing and his legs turning to jelly as the mad rush of adrenaline wore off. "Anakin!" the woman cried excitedly. "I'm so glad to hear from you!"

"Yes, yes," he said softly. "Is Owen around?"

She shook her head. "No, he's out tending to the vaporators." She grinned broadly. "I heard you got _married_ , Anakin!" Fortunately, the only Council member present was Mace Windu, and Anakin didn't need to look at him to feel his dark, hard eyes slowly turn on him, staring at him so intensely that Anakin could have sworn he was looking straight through him. Tarkin, however, was just unamused.

"Married?" he repeated, running his hand through his hair and trying to look disaffected. "No, not me." _How_ could she have known about that? _Nobody_ knew about that! Beru frowned.

"Oh..." she said, a bit disappointed. "They must have been mistaken. They _have_ been out fighting the war, I guess it's not uncommon to get bad information sometimes."

" _They_? Who is _they_ , Beru?" Anakin asked, the lump in his stomach growing heavier with each passing moment, and she smiled brightly once again.

"Your friends!" she said firmly, leaning in as if to remind the stunned Jedi. "The Jedi! There were here on the planet on a mission, they came looking for a place to stay when the attacks started. They said you told them it would be safe with us! Oh, what were their names," she said, her hand to her chin as she thought, and Tarkin, Windu and Skywalker all leaned in, their full attention given to the woman as she gasped happily. "Luminara, that was the girl's name! And Quinlan! Your bother spoke a lot to him!" Mace and Anakin paled, and despite himself, Skywalker began to shake. "And the other one..." she mused, looking up as if that would help jog her memory. "You know, I don't think I got his name," she said, sighing wistfully. "But he was _so_ handsome, and he had the most _amazing_ gold eyes!"

"Are they still there, Beru?" Anakin said frantically, but the woman shook her head.

"They left this morning. They said they had to go before more ships came around."

"I have to go, Beru," Anakin said swiftly, and didn't wait for her to respond before he cut the connection and fell into one of the Council chairs, his legs too shaky to hold him up. "Kenobi..." he said under his breath. "That must have been Barriss he was with..." which explained how the Sith Lord knew about his family. Barriss and Anakin were close. _Very_ close, and she knew nearly everything about him, from his triumphs to his struggles. Sith Hells, she had _been_ there for most of it. If she was working with Kenobi now, what else could the Sith Lord possibly know about him? But worst of all was the fact that Obi-Wan had _been there_. In the Lars homestead, surrounding by his good natured, loving, _oblivious_ brother. He could have hidden _anywhere_ , and he sought out the people Anakin called family. Rage unlike he had ever felt rushed through him. This was worse than what happened with Padme. This was worse than _anything_ Kenobi had ever done. What had Obi-Wan _done to them_? He was going to kill him. He was going to _kill him_. He swallowed hard to wet his dry throat. "And if Quinlan was with him..."

"Quinlan Vos," Mace said, his voice tired and heavy, "has fallen to the Dark Side. Ahsoka returned from her mission and confirmed this. There can be no doubt."

Ahsoka. He needed Ahsoka. His mind was swimming, and Quinlan's little Padawan would know more. She didn't trust the Council much, like her Master, and there was no way she was telling them the whole story. Anakin needed to know what she did. He nodded solemnly. "Where's Ahsoka?"

"I don't know," Mace said, and Anakin braced himself, the tone in the Master's voice indicating that _nothing_ good could come of the question. "Ahsoka left the Jedi Order."

All Anakin could do was stare at Mace searching his face and sensing him in the Force for any trace of humor, any indication that this was some waking nightmare instead of reality, but he found nothing. Just the cold, hard face of a Jedi Master that had already let go. "...you just _let her leave_?!" Anakin shouted, his temper rising to dangerous levels as he thought about his close friend, all alone in a world at war without the Jedi Order to fall back on. His hands were shaking, and all he could see was red fury, all his work on centering himself with Qui-Gon wasted in an instant with the knowledge that Ahsoka Tano was, now and forever, out of his life. And the Order had _allowed it_.

"We are not jailers, Anakin," Mace said, his voice weary. "We could not keep her against her will. It was her decision to leave, it wasn't a choice that we could have made for her."

"She is a _Padawan_! She shouldn't have a choice! Not when there's a war going on, not when we need Jedi! We need her! _I need her_!"

"Calm yourself, Skywalker," Mace growled. "Your attachments are getting the better of you! _Again_."

"There are more important things to discuss than Ahsoka Tano," Tarkin sneered, and anger flashed through Anakin for a moment before he realized that they were right. They had a job to do. He took a deep breath, centered himself in the Force...and focused on his hatred for Kenobi. This, _all this_ , was his fault. His relationship troubles with Padmé, her _rape_ at his hands, the attack on Tatooine, the splintering of the Jedi, the destruction of entire planets, the fall of Quinlan Vos, Ahsoka leaving the Order, and who knew _what_ the Sith bastard did to his family on Tatooine. It was all his fault. _All of it_. His rage focused him on the task at hand, hot and burning in his chest despite the chill he felt. He steepled his fingers together, brought them to his lips, and looked at the galactic map.

"So our trap has failed," he said coldly, and Tarkin sputtered, started to speak and was silenced when Anakin held up a hand, furious eyes glaring holes into his Admiral. "It's no matter. We know where he's heading next. He's going into Hutt Space to finish the job. After his attack on Tatooine, I bet Jabba will be _more_ than happy to help us destroy that bastard." He was met with silence, both the Jedi Master and the Admiral averting their eyes. "... _what is it this time_."

"It seems," Tarkin started, "that Jabba may have been in league with Kenobi. The Mandalorians attacked Nal Hutta yesterday and executed the entire Hutt Council."

"It's highly suspicious that Jabba lives, despite Tatooine being attacked when the rest of the Cartel has been killed," Mace said. Anakin gripped the arm of the chair so hard that the pressure of his mechanical hand made it groan.

" _Alright_ , so where's his next target in Hutt Space?" Anakin snarled, and Tarkin shook his head.

"Nowhere, General. Bo-Katan has declared Hutt Space for Mandalore as part of their new Empire, and _Jabba_ endorsed them."

"Oh, _I'm going to kill that son of a bitch_!" Anakin screamed, leaping from the chair and pacing back and forth like a wild animal. "I was gone _three days, people_!" He snarled in frustration and ran his hand through his hair with such aggression that it threatened to rip from his head. "Do we have _any other way to track him_?!"

"Not through the Mandalorians," Tarkin grumbled, crossing his arms in front of his chest, his commander's wrath seeming to settle him back into his usual cool. "However, General Windu has told me that it is likely we will be able to hunt him down through the renegade Jedi, Quinlan Vos. His sources seem to believe that the two will always return to each other."

Anakin's heart stopped. _And he had Padmé_. Obi-Wan was certain to return to her, especially since he somehow knew that they had gotten married. But _how_. Padmé had told nobody about it. _Anakin_ had told nobody about it, not even Qui-Gon, not yet. So _how_ had the Sith Lord known? Did Kenobi somehow have a mental connection with the woman? Had he felt it when they were wed? Or was it the Sith _Master_ , a manipulator deeply seated inside his wife's mind that knew everything without being told? Or maybe...

Maybe Padmé had simply told Kenobi herself.

Jealousy and anger raced through him at the very thought of it, his entire body shaking with cold that seeped bone deep. He tried to shake the idea from his mind. It was _absurd_ , wasn't it? Padmé would never do that, would never give information to the Sith, would _never_ help him. But then, she _had_ gone to bed with him. Anakin could still see flashes in his mind of the two of them together, wild and untamed and feral like _beasts_ , nothing more, but it was enough. She had gone to bed with a monster, and Qui-Gon may have said she was forced, manipulated, pulled toward that end not by Kenobi, but by another Sith, but that didn't explain everything else. Padmé had _always_ had a soft spot for Obi-Wan, had always been physically attracted to him, had lusted for him long after she thought he was dead, and when she learned he was alive, it was renewed stronger than before. She had _always_ desired Obi-Wan. _Always_. Even when they were together. Even _now_...

It made him wish that he had choked her header and _never_ let go.

"We'll find a way, Tarkin," Anakin said quietly. "I'll be there as soon as I can. We have several ways to trap him, we just need to plan which route to pursue. Don't forget, _we know where he lives_."

"...understood, General," Tarkin said crisply, his hands folded behind his back. "I'll draft up some preliminary plans for us to discuss once you arrive."

"You do that. I'm leaving now." With a curt nod, Tarkin vanished, the transmission ending, and Anakin swiftly rose and turned to leave, but was stopped when Mace called his name. Skywalker glared at him over his shoulder. " _What_."

"Married, Skywalker?" Mace asked, gently and almost playful, but Anakin was having none of it. He reeled on the Master, his entire body shaking in rage.

" _Sith lies_ ," he snarled. "He's using my family against me, he's using them to tear me apart and _ruin_ my standing in the Jedi Order!"

"Peace, Anakin," Mace said, holding up a calming hand toward the angry Jedi. "I agree with you. But if your standing with us is ruined, it will be your own doing. Your emotions are out of control. There's fear and hate and so, _so_ much anger in you when there's no cause for it."

" _That Sith_ -"

"Is doing _exactly_ as he has been doing since the beginning of the war, Anakin," Mace said sternly and loudly, and the harsh tone was enough to shock Skywalker out of the worst of his anger. "The only difference now is that he's focusing on you personally instead of the Order as a whole. He's trying to weaken you because you're a threat to him, and everyone knows it." He pointed an admonishing finger at the Knight. "Don't prove him right by forgetting your training and giving in to your emotions like this. He _will_ win if you can't control yourself."

"I'm... _trying_ ," Anakin said, his anger freezing under the chill within him and becoming irritation instead.

"As our Grandmaster likes to say, do, or do not. There is no try." Windu frowned. "We're in dire need of Masters in this war, Skywalker, and you're a candidate for that." A flash of hope, unrestrained joy passed over Skywalker's features, but it stopped dead when he looked at the cold, hard stare of Mace Windu. "You will _never_ be a Jedi Master if you allow your emotions to rule you like this. Do you understand?"

"...yes," Anakin said softly, effectively admonished, and Windu nodded.

"Go. Return to the war. May the Force be with you, Skywalker."

Anakin bowed and left without another word, his thoughts on Padmé, on Tatooine, on the new Mandalorian Empire, on Quinlan Vos, on Ahsoka, on Barriss, on _Obi-Wan Kenobi_. He didn't understand how everything could have gone so badly in the span of three days. He shook his head to clear it, rubbed his temples with his fingers, and thought back on what Qui-Gon had said. All of his anger and hate was rooted in fear, so...what was he afraid of? He was afraid of never seeing Ahsoka again. He was afraid of the Sith destroying his family to get to him. He was afraid of letting the Jedi down. He was afraid of losing the war. He was afraid of what that Sith menace had done to Owen and Beru. But most of all, he was afraid of losing Padmé. That was where his anger was coming from, and remembering the things he wished, he felt ashamed. Fear was clouding his judgement, keeping him from connecting with the warm comfort of the Force, and it left him cold, shivering, feeling so, _so_ alone.

He took a deep breath, opened himself up, and felt the Force rush into him, fill him, warm him and ease his fears. _Of course_ Padmé hadn't said anything to Kenobi. When would she? He had been with her the entire time, and the events just didn't line up. Something else was going on, and his jealousy, intense and consuming and driven by fear, had kept him from seeing the trust. He could feel his body relax. Things were better between them now, and they had worked out so much over the course of the week, and now that they were married, they were bound together. It was _unbreakable_. He smiled, his fears released into the Force, and he headed to his ship so he could join Tarkin in plotting the death of Obi-Wan Kenobi.

* * *

Anakin Skywalker kept the council of Qui-Gon Jinn. It had _always_ been this way. They were closer than father and son, a bond so tight, so strong, that nothing could get between them. They relied on each other for nearly everything, and though the Jedi exulted the need to remain unattached, Qui-Gon and Anakin paid no mind to such, living in the moment instead of in fear of what _may_ happen in the future. Padmé had someone like that as well. She had _two_ someones. The first was Bail Organa, a man who she loved dearly. Bail had taught her nearly everything she knew about politics, had been a fellow royal when she was Queen, had mentored her when she decided to take up a career in the Senate.

Of all her friends, he was her closest. After his disgrace at the start of the war, she had helped him slowly work back into the public favor, aiding him in whatever way she could until they found his niche in relief work. Slowly, Bail Organa was seen again not just as a respected Senator, but as a treasured humanitarian, one that reached out not just to Republic worlds in need of aid, but Separatist worlds as well. His work kept him away from Coruscant more often than not, however, and as such, Padmé sat in the apartment of her _other_ someone.

"I just don't know what to do, Palpatine," Padmé said softly, her legs pressed tightly together, her shoulders hunched and tense, which made her appear to be almost comically small in the large, red chair beside a low, simple coffee table. They both occupied 500 Republica, and while the Chancellor had the spacious, luxurious space at the top of the massive building, his rooms were far more sparse than the former queen's. Palpatine was a simple man who had no desire for material wealth or possessions, keeping only what he must to maintain appearances befitting the Chancellor of the Republic. Given all the wealth and greed and corruption the Separatists objected to, Chancellor Palpatine was a fine figurehead to spur the change that needed to happen.

"I admit, it's a difficult situation," Palpatine said softly, laying a cup of tea on the table before the former Queen. "You're certain nobody else knows about this? If this were to get out, it would hurt both of you a great deal."

She shook her head. "You know. Anakin's mentor knows. I was going to tell Bail, but he's been out in the Arkanis Sector for _months_."

"It's just as well," he said softly. "The fewer the people that know, the less likely it will get out." Palpatine sat in the chair opposite her and leaned forward, his face filled with concern. "You know I just want what's best for you, Padmé."

She nodded, her eyes cast at the floor, but she smiled softly. When Organa took his leave of absence from the Senate, it was Palpatine that had take up his role of mentor to young Amidala, and while she was accomplished in her own right, she found the Chancellor to be warm, understanding and trustworthy. What's more, they were both from Naboo and bonded over this, sat together and had long talks about their common heritage, the art of their planet, issues concerning their home world, and so, _so_ much more, and all spoken in the native language of Naboo. Being around Palpatine made her feel nostalgic. It was like...being home.

"May we review it once again?" he asked, a hand extended apologetically. "Just to make certain I fully understand." The girl nodded, and Palpatine took a deep breath. "You have been with this Jedi for some time now, yes?"

"Since the start of the war, but seriously..." She rocked her head back and forth, considering everything that they had gone through. "Two years, perhaps."

"And your...lover?" he asked, and the girl flushed deeply and stared at the ground.

"...I loved him before Anakin," she whispered. "Then he... _left_ , but I never forgot him, and now he's back in my life and...a-and so much has happened, Palpatine, I _can't_ -"

"Hush now, Padmé..." he said soothingly to her, his hand extended in a calming gesture, and she _did_ feel calm wash over her. Slowly, her body relaxed against the soft, red cushions of the chair. "He came to you again at the start of the war, yes?" She nodded. "And when exactly did you become lovers?"

"...it must be two weeks ago now." She sighed, her breath shaky as it left her, and Palpatine reached over and affectionately pat her hand. It would be alright. She _knew_ it would be.

"And he's a Separatist?" Her jaw clamped shut. They had spoken about this before, but the subject was something of a sore one.

"He _was_ , yes," she said defensively. "Then he joined Mandalore, and...w-well, it fell apart after Satine, and..." Padmé sighed and hung her head. "Yes, I suppose he _is_ a Separatist again. He's certainly not with Mandalore now." Palpatine chuckled, _actually chuckled_ , and Padmé shot him an angry glare, and he quickly put his hands up to calm her. "This isn't funny!"

"No, no, it isn't!" he agreed, his voice laced with amusement, which was _not_ amusing to her. "I _understand_ , Padmé. This Jedi of yours is forbidden. This Separatist of yours is _doubly_ forbidden. There is a certain... _allure_ to that which is forbidden."

"Yes," she gasped. "Yes, yes, _exactly_." She sighed, a small smile on her lips. Palpatine _understood_. He was, after all, a man who had experienced a great deal in his life. Perhaps even the Chancellor felt love for one, but lust for another. Such things were not unheard of, and she often heard other Senators discuss the illicit going ons of their peers. Padmé had always looked down on them before, but now that she had done so herself...well, love and lust and feelings concerning old lovers was messy business and far, far more complicated than she had initially believed. She was growing up, and as she thought so, she felt herself fill with a sudden confidence. _Yes_. This wasn't _wrong_ , she was just... _experiencing_ a deeper side of herself.

"The Jedi talk about this often," Palpatine said, a small smile on his lips. "Some philosophical interpretation of emotions they call the Dark Side."

"The Dark Side is real, Chancellor," Padmé said softly. "I've seen it." He shrugged.

"I wouldn't know anything about it, since I lack their connection to the Force, so I cannot truly ever understand, I suppose. I can just...relate their philosophy to myself and my own experiences." He chuckled and leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other. "I confess, it's not enough to truly _understand_ the Jedi, but I do try."

Padmé had not thought about it like that before. To her, the Force was always Anakin's domain, laser swords and fruit floating, light and dark, good and evil. She knew the Code denied the Jedi emotions, attachments, and romantic relationships, but she never stopped to consider _why_. The only answer she ever got was that such things could lead to the Dark Side, which she understood as evil, but...how could love and friendships lead to evil?

"Well..." she said softly. "How do you understand it?" Palpatine smiled gently.

"The Dark Side, from what I understand, isn't so simple as evil. From they way the Jedi speak of it, it seems to encompass _all_ emotions that are deeply felt." He shrugged. "Darker emotions, perhaps, like anger and hate, but that cannot be all of it, or else the Jedi wouldn't call it seductive."

She opened her mouth to argue, but found she couldn't. The Chancellor...raised a very good point. "I hadn't thought of it like that," she confessed. "Anakin always said it's evil, so I just assumed he knew what he was talking about."

The Chancellor chuckled softly. "I suppose he says all Separatists are evil as well?"

Padmé frowned, wrinkling her nose as she did so. "Yes," she said, chuckling softly. "He doesn't understand that there are good people on both sides, but I suppose if you're out fighting, that isn't a luxury you can afford to have. I suppose it makes killing easier when we're good and they're bad."

"Yes, I suppose it does," Palpatine sighed. "But life isn't so simple as that, is it, Padmé?"

"No, it isn't."

"And neither is your current situation." Padmé flushed and averted her eyes. It was very like Palpatine to bring things full circle. "The way _I_ interpret the Dark Side, as the Jedi see it, is the Dark Side is the realm of emotions, vast and complicated, encompassing the greatest highs, and therefore, the lowest lows. Which, I suppose, is why the Jedi avoid it. One cannot find peace and tranquility in turbulence."

"But you wouldn't find real joy either, would you?" she asked, and Palpatine gave her a tired smile.

"I suppose not, but there is a kind of happiness to be had in peace and calm. True, it isn't so...consuming, perhaps, as anything with great emotion, but there is a price for everything. Not all of us can be Jedi, certainly."

Padmé scoffed. "Most of us can't. But it isn't just that!" Padmé blurted out before she could stop herself, the Chancellor's eyes wide and questioning, and she couldn't stop then. "The Jedi said I was... _influenced_. To start this affair, that it wasn't my choice."

"Hmm..." Palpatine stroked his chin. "Do _you_ think you were influenced?"

"...I don't know."

He shrugged. "Perhaps what they saw was just your desire for your Separatist lover. After all, lust, perhaps, is seen as a negative emotion. Wrongly so, but it is. They may have interpreted that as the Dark Side. I suppose that's why the Jedi say people may be seduced by the Dark Side," Palpatine said, slowly standing from his seat and offering his hand to help the woman up. "And why they say that once the first step is taken, one can never go back." He smiled gently as the girl, her brown eyes wide as she listened intently. "The first step is the hardest, but each one becomes easier after that. Who would give up such passion once they have it?"

"...I-I don't know..." Padmé said softly, mindlessly following the Chancellor as he led her to the door.

"As for your problem..." he softly drawled. "I don't think it's so terrible. Each of these men is important to you, clearly. Perhaps they _both_ have a place in your life..."

"Y-yes..." she said softly, almost mindlessly, and she felt that Palpatine was right. He was _always_ right. She loved Anakin, But Obi-Wan needed her. He couldn't abandon either of them, not now, not ever...

"Enough of philosophy for one night, my dear," Palpatine said, covering his mouth as he yawned. "It's getting late, but I would be more than happy to discuss this with you again whenever you may need it."

The Senator bowed, a faint smile on her lips. "Thank you, Palpatine. You're a true friend. Everything is always so much more clear after I see you." With a small smile and a respectful inclination of his head, Palpatine shut the door as Padmé stepped out into the hallway, leaving the Senator to ride the elevator down to her own apartment and contemplate her thoughts.

Palpatine was right about all of it. The situation was complicated and, from his perspective, a thing of the Dark Side, and she had _tasted it_ with Obi-Wan. It was passion and fire, much like she had with Anakin, but with Obi-Wan it was _far_ more intense, the furry of his passion barely contained, the doubly forbidden nature of their relationship making it feel so wrong and when she had him, it was all the sweeter for it. She had taken that first step, and she knew the next time would be easier, knew that it would happen again. It had to. _She wanted him_.

But it wasn't only that, it wasn't just to satisfy her own lust. Obi-Wan _needed her_. He was hurt, _grieving_ , wrongly accused by the Jedi of burning the planet, and that may not have been the only thing they laid at his feet that he was innocent of. After all, the Jedi _loved_ to blame Obi-Wan for the worst things in the galaxy. Not the Separatists. Not Count Dooku. _Him_ , her fallen Jedi Knight. Her outcast protector. It was _terribly_ unfair, and Obi-Wan didn't deserve such. She _had_ recommitted to Anakin, yes, had even married him, as she intended to, but now that he had flown back to the war, things felt... _the same_. Not the same, perhaps. Anakin was angrier, more protective, a bit overbearing, nearly _possessive_...it came from his passion, yes, but it wasn't what she wanted. She understood it all, of course, but if they were going to make a partnership work, there needed to be trust, and trust could not be built in the span of a week, no matter how hard they had worked at it.

She knew why Anakin didn't trust her. She didn't _deserve_ his trust, not after what she had done, but Qui-Gon didn't seem to think it was entirely her fault. Still, Anakin had blamed her for her attraction to Obi-Wan, which was in his right, and for her past love of the man, which most certainly wasn't. _Her_ trust in Anakin had been broken as well when she looked into his eyes, his strong hands wrapped around her slender neck, and saw _murder_. She hadn't thought Anakin capable, but there was a monster inside her husband, and she had seen it. It was frightening, terribly so, and she never wanted to see it again. A few days together of sorting through the mess had mostly smoothed things out between them, but the core issue was not resolved. She loved Anakin. She _wanted_ Obi-Wan.

In Anakin's desire to protect her, she had been assigned a Jedi guard, one that moved to be by her side not five minutes after Anakin had slid out of her that morning, and hadn't left until her meeting with Palpatine, the Chancellor dismissing the Jedi when he had promised to care for her that evening. Padmé disliked being caged, even if she understood why. She wasn't a possession, not to Anakin or anyone, and the idea that there was a Sith Lord in her mind influencing her actions only made her crave freedom more. _Nobody_ told Padmé Amidala what to do. She entered her apartment and locked the doors behind her, kicked off her shoes, and threw herself on her couch, her long legs draped over the armrest as she undid her elaborate hairstyle, the dark brown locks cascading onto the couch as she undid the ringlets. It was a long day and she was, _again_ , as she so often was, alone.

Two years, she and Anakin had been together. It felt like so much less. A night here, a few hours there between months apart added up to very little time at all. This past week had been the longest she had spent with the man in...well, _ever_. Thinking about it now, in light of what she had spoken about with Palpatine, it made so much sense why she would feel this way, why her emotions would be so torn, why she was conflicted between her love and her lover. It was a... _darker_ urge, perhaps, but a real one, driven by her need from being alone for so long, and with _two_ men to imagine at night, everything became... _confused_. Things were clear when she was busy, or when she was with Anakin, but when she was alone, when she had time to think about _him..._

That's when the trouble started.

"You look troubled, your Highness."

She gasped and sat up straight, her heart pounding in her chest not just from being startled, but from a fair bit of excitement as well. She had no idea how he got in, but when she saw him standing there, dark and handsome and so much healthier than last time, she supposed it didn't matter. " _How_ did you get in here?" she said firmly, but she couldn't keep the smile off her face, and she quietly wondered what was wrong with her.

He help up his hands to show they were empty. "Nothing sinister, my Lady. Your droid let me in."

"Where is 3PO?" she muttered, rising from her spot on the couch to meet Kenobi, and she took his hands in hers almost absently, flushed when he kissed her cheek, felt light-headed when her heart began _racing_...

"In the other room," he said softly. "I had to shut him down. He _did_ , however, offer me tea while I waited for the Jedi to arrive and arrest me."

"Oh, how _very_ thoughtful..." she said, laughing softly as she cupped the bearded cheek, looked up into fierce gold eyes, and she felt the familiar warmth of arousal spread through her. She shivered, pressing closer against him as if looking for warmth that could ease the sudden chill she felt, and the long, light fingers that brushed down her spine seemed to take the cold from her. She wanted this, but at the same time...

She looked up and smiled gently at the alleged Sith Lord. "I know what we said last time, but..."

"Too fast for you?" he asked gently, running his fingers down her pale neck and she shivered, a voice deep inside her _begging_ him not to stop, but stubbornness and her commitment to Anakin prevented her from giving voice to it. Somehow, though, she felt the Sith Lord felt it anyway when he smiled knowingly and slowly backed out of her grasp. "That's fine. Being your lover doesn't _just_ mean warming your bed while your boyfriend is away."

"Husband," she said softly, averting her eyes so she didn't need to look at Obi-Wan as she said it. "He's my husband now, we-"

"I understand," was his calm, measured answer, and she felt herself breathing a sigh of relief. "A little fast for marriage though, isn't it?" She tensed, and a soft brush of his hand upon her shoulder immediately relieved her tension. "Satine and I were together for ten years, and we never married."

"Well, you _couldn't_ get married, you had to keep your involvement a secret." She was answered by a questioning arch of his eyebrow that without words seemed to tell her how absolutely ridiculous that sounded coming from _her_ , who married a Jedi Knight, and then his face fell, the bright golden eyes seemed to dull, and she felt _awful_ for speaking so casually about what he had with his Duchess. She knew nothing about it, after all, and she was supposed to be helping him through it, not making him feel awful about it. "I'm sorry, Obi-Wan..." she started softly, reaching out with her hand to stroke his chest, and the man shuddered under her touch.

"It's fine, Padmé," Kenobi whispered, his voice distant, his eyes so very far away, but he smiled softly at her regardless. "She's dead. Not talking about it won't change that, and...I'd rather not forget. Ni partayli, gar darasuum, the Mandalorians say. I remember you, so you are eternal." Obi-Wan reached out and took her hand in his, ran his thumb over the back of it in small, slow circles. "I don't want her to fade from my memory because it hurts too much to think of her..."

_This_ was what she was for, this was why she was here with him, and this is why she had been so willing to accept her old love back into her life, despite her current relationship. She had always known, but it was made clear to her now. Her old friend was suffering, and she would do _anything_ she could to ease it. Qui-Gon had been right, though she had denied it at the time, vowed to herself that she would remain true to Anakin, but the Master had said this would happen again. Palpatine had been correct as well. This was... _complicated_. Being lovers wasn't the point. The fact that they had tangled together in a mindless haze of intimacy was... _incidental_. It all came from this, a deep, emotional connection that went far beyond her comprehension. They weren't made for each other, she knew that. Obi-Wan's heart belonged to Satine, would _always_ belong to Satine. But she was cruelly taken from him. He had nobody now, but Padmé wouldn't allow him to suffer alone.

Even now, there was a twinge of jealousy within her for the late Duchess. She had captured and held the heart of Obi-Wan Kenobi, and even in death, she wouldn't let it go. Padmé wondered for a moment _why_ she felt this way, if she had always been jealous of beautiful Satine, ruler of an Empire, lover to the powerful, handsome Negotiator, prospective mother of his child. Through the haze in her mind, she couldn't sort it out, but deep within her was a voice, small and smooth and _awful_ , whispering that she was _glad_ the Duchess had perished. If she hadn't, she never would have been able to be this way with the grieving Sith Lord...

She whimpered, shook her head violently to clear the disgusting thought from her mind. It wasn't her own, it _wasn't_. She'd never wish harm on anyone, least of all her lover. She smiled at Kenobi, cupped his cheek in her hand, and he almost desperately pressed into her touch, his gold eyes closed and his own hand coming to lay over hers. She'd help him through this. As his friend, as the former object of her affections, she had a duty to. And if they _happened_ to fall into bed together...well, it was a natural result of being emotionally close, of being a source of comfort, and she certainly couldn't fault herself for that.

And yet...

"Obi-Wan," she said quietly, averting her eyes, but his long fingers hooked under her chin and forced her to look into eyes that were far too intense, and she shivered. "I married Anakin because-"

"I know," he said softly. "Your emotions are a mess. You're confused, conflicted, and you thought it would help clear your mind."

Was that it? She didn't know. It could have been, but the longer she looked at him, the more sense and reason seemed to flee from her. She tore her eyes away. "Can we just... _talk_?" she asked softly, almost desperately, nervous as to what his reaction would be, but a soft hand at her elbow leading her to the couch eased all her fears.

"Relax, Padmé," he softly commanded as he sat beside her, and her body _did_ relax, the tension in her mind, all her doubts and fears simply vanishing. "We can talk, yes."

"You're controlling me," the Senator whimpered, her shoulders beginning to shake as if she was struggling, and the Sith Lord looked sternly at her.

"You know I have not. You know I _would_ not. We have always desired each other, and you know that using the Force would put me at risk of discovery."

"But you still _use_ it, don't you?" she asked, her voice rising in near panic, and Kenobi's eyes narrowed as he examined her.

"Yes..." he said softly. "Why? What do you know that I don't?" It was true that there was a soft, subtle pull of darkness within her, so faint, so subversive that on reflection, he hadn't been sure he had actually seen it. He was, after all, admittedly insane, and his senses could almost not be trusted. But still, he thought he had felt the pullings of his Master. He wasn't sure, but...

"The Jedi said I was being manipulated," she said swiftly, and sense slowly begun to reassert itself. "The Jedi said my consent in the matter was _highly_ suspect, Qui-Gon said he felt _something_ in me and _you said_ -"

"Wait, _Qui-Gon_ felt something?" That changed things. The Jedi weren't supposed to be able to sense the Dark Side. It was possible that Qui-Gon was mistaken, misinterpreted lust and infidelity for manipulation out of the mistaken belief that the woman's emotions couldn't change course. But Obi-Wan had felt something as well. This was no mistake. "Padmé, if he said I _raped_ you, I-"

"He didn't say that," she said swiftly. "He doesn't think you're involved. He thinks it was someone else, and he thinks _you're_ a pawn in this as well."

The idea was _laughable_. _Him_? A _pawn_?! Sidious was his Master, yes, and he moved pieces as he saw fit. He earned his loyalty on Mandalore when he had rushed to help him deal with Maul, and perhaps he had a greater thing in mind with Padmé as well. He thought that it was to bring about the birth of his new apprentice, a child powerful in the Dark Side that would come to be the future of the Sith, but...if that was the intention, _why_ was he toying with her? Why wouldn't he just move to manipulate her _away_ from Skywalker and to him instead of playing this infidelity game? The simplest answer was that these things were beneath Sidious, that what was happening here was simply a woman, confused and alone and torn between two lovers, and the Jedi, emotionally stunted as they were, had _no idea_ how to call this anything other than the Dark Side manipulations of the Sith. But then, Qui-Gon _hadn't_ blamed him, when he was clearly the most likely offender. After all, he had done this before, and Qui-Gon... _Qui-Gon_...

"Show me," he said swiftly, extending his hands out to her, and the woman recoiled, fear and mistrust on her face, as if she had suddenly realized the implications of her actions. Kenobi frowned. If Qui-Gon did sense something within her and knew it wasn't Kenobi, than he was drawing dangerously close to Sidious. But more than that, if his Master was trying to manipulate him...if this whole thing had to do _not_ with Padmé and her child, but with _Skywalker_...

This was history repeating itself. Anakin Skywalker, Force Nexus, the greatest potential that the Jedi had ever seen, was _haunting_ him, and if Sidious was looking at the powerful Jedi as something other than a threat...

Obi-Wan wouldn't be betrayed. He wouldn't have another Master taken from him by Skywalker. Not again.

"I _won't_ let you inside me," Padmé snapped. "I know what you can do, I know how you manipulate people!"

"And I have said I would _never_ manipulate you." He frowned. "But _someone_ may be, and if there's something there, I want to know. The Jedi can only tell you so much, but I know the Dark Side, I know how the Force ebbs and flows within it. Qui-Gon couldn't tell you what's there, but _I_ can. _Please_." He held his hands out to her again. "Do you trust me?"

"...yes," she said softly, though she couldn't explain why she did. Maybe it was something in his voice, the worry in his golden eyes, the sincerity on his face...she didn't know what it was, but she trusted him. Obi-Wan wouldn't hurt her. He had _many_ opportunities to, and he had always touched her with a gentle hand, had always treated her with respect, and if their passions left dark marks upon her pale skin, they were _welcome_ , simply the result of fierce intensity. She trusted him.

He touched her face, gently caressing her cheek as he slid those long fingers into her hair, his eyes searching and feeling every expression on her face, and Padmé sucked in a shuddering breath when she felt him enter her mind. It was unlike how it felt with the Jedi. Theirs was a feather light touch, an unassuming caress that felt warm and comforting. Obi-Wan's touch was _nothing_ like that, and it was all she needed to know that he hadn't lied to her. Obi-Wan had _never_ been inside her mind. She'd remember it. It was true that he had once _commanded_ her aboard the _Tranquility_ , but that had been to prove a point. That was an encompassing grasp, cold and inescapable, a haze of mindless obedience that obscured her ability to resist. But this was _nothing_ like that.

If Qui-Gon's touch had been the soft lapping of water, Obi-Wan's touch was _fire_ , burning and intimate as he moved within her, gentle, perhaps, but his touch had focus, purpose, a clear goal of what it was looking for. She didn't feel herself change, didn't feel as though he was making her bend to his will, he was simply... _looking_. With a growl of frustration, she felt the Sith suddenly withdraw, his eyes furious, his face drawn in irritation, and he shook his head.

"I'm sorry, Padmé," he said softly. "If there's anything there, I can't feel it. I...thought I may have before, but..." Kenobi hissed and looked away. "Maybe this is something only a Jedi can truly see. Maybe...the stronger the light, the darker the shadow that's cast, and there is no brighter point in the Force than Qui-Gon Jinn."

"So...this is just _me_?' she asked carefully, and she could feel the warmth within her spread as she said it, her mind slowly beginning to drift toward want and desire, though she had given herself no cause to do so. Perhaps it was as simple as wanting him, as simple as the lust that drove her to be unfaithful even now, after she had said she would not be. It was... _easier_ this time, as Palpatine had said it would be. She had already taken that first step, and now... _well_ , Anakin didn't need to know. When the war was over, when they could be together _always_...maybe then she would have no need for a lover.

"I don't know..." Obi-Wan mumbled, his eyes averted and stroking his beard as he thought. "It could be..." He shook his head. "I want to try something else. Let's see if we can't force this manipulation out into the open. We seem to think that the cause of it is your... _affair_ with me, yes?" She nodded, and once again, he slid his fingers into her hair, and her breath caught as she felt his burning presence poised and ready to slip inside her once again. "Think of it," he softly commanded. "What we did, bring it to the front of your mind, relive it, if you can. If there's something dark pulling at you, I will be able to see it then?"

"You're sure?" she asked softly, and his gentle smile instantly reassured her.

"Positive. It's when I thought I felt something before, and I wasn't really looking all that hard. Trust me, and let yourself go."

The memories came to her on their own, before she even had a chance to call on them, hitting her like a wave of passion and lust, and it was only amplified by the fiery, penetrating touch of Obi-Wan in her mind. Her body hitched, shivering under his touch, and she felt the old, familiar, maddening heat of lust rush through her as her mind raced with moans of pleasure drawn by the passionate embrace of her lover deep inside her. She felt her sense fly from her as dark passion gripped her, but she didn't care. She had taken this man to bed before, and it had been _perfect_ , intense and rough and expressly forbidden and she knew then that she could never go back, could never keep Obi-Wan at arm's length again.

_There it was_. He felt it, just barely, but it was there. _Sidious_. His touch was unmistakable. Obi-Wan focused deep, grabbed at the darkness that ran inside her, pulled it to the front of her mind. She fell against him, moaning loud and wanton, moving against him with clear, deliberate purpose, but Kenobi noticed none of it. He had it now, this... _string_ of influence, the tie that bound Padmé Amidala to the will of the Sith Lord, and he wasn't letting go. She kissed him, hard and deep and sudden, and for a moment, he almost lost that nearly imperceptible thread, almost dropped the firm grasp he had on his Master's ambitions. He couldn't lose it, not now, not when the Jedi had _seen_ this, not when it was possible they could trace this thread back to his Master. Kenobi needed to know what was there, what could be seen, and he needed to warn Sidious if it was something that could reveal the Sith Master before the time was right. If this was a misstep...

If the Master had made a _mistake_ , if there was something there that Kenobi didn't like... _well_ , mistakes were weaknesses, and if Sidious showed weakness, it was the job of the Apprentice to become the Master.

Flames licked at his mind, maddening and intense as Padmé kissed him, as her small, deft hands ran over him, slipped under his clothing, stroked him to arousal, and he found himself fumbling for his grasp on his Master's presence. With a sigh of surrender, he turned his body over to the Dark Side, the small flames and glowing embers erupting into an inferno that ran wild and consuming through his feverish mind, insanity taking its hold as Kenobi retreated into the stillness of the Force, that faint string of darkness clutched firmly in his hand. There was no harm in allowing the Dark Side control of his passions, not now when there was work to be done, and the faint, pleasured moans and cries of Padmé Amidala as his body thrust inside her ensured that he'd have the time and focus necessary to understand.

The thin, dark tendril ran along his fingers like a serpent, hissing in warning as it moved, thrashing and lashing out as he wrapped his fingers around it, but he commanded it to obey, and it slowly did. He couldn't see Sidious, to his relief. At the very least, his Master was still careful, still safe, the ever-cautious puppet master pulling strings and staying hidden in the shadows. What he did feel from this darkness was lust and desire, deep and intense, so easy to take hold, so easily preying on even the slightest weakness. Within it, he saw old memories, faint and distant, but as he focused, as he pulled upon the darkness in his hand, the image sharpened, became brighter, and he saw himself. Or, what _once_ was him, the Jedi Padawan, young and blue-eyed and desperate for the approval of his Master. A young man made jealous by a small boy because of his potential, because of the focus he commanded, because he stole his Master's attention. But above it all, he could feel Padmé, a young queen frightened for her people and hopelessly drawn to her young Jedi protector, just as Satine had been so long ago. The connection was not lost on him, the similarities between the two women had always been what attracted Obi-Wan to her. Passion was...infectious, and Padmé Amidala had an abundance of it.

Kenobi sighed, twisting his hand as he observed the thread of darkness weave between his fingers. It came from Sidious, yes, but it was subtle, passive, influence, yes, but a clever and conniving one, and he couldn't help but feel impressed that Qui-Gon had been able to detect it at all. It was a thread of lust planted deep inside her, maddening and overwhelming and designed to draw her deepest desires to the forefront, whatever that may be. He was certain that Anakin Skywalker had benefitted from this manipulation as well, as she _did_ desire her young Jedi husband, as much as her infidelity seemed to suggest otherwise. However, this darkness, this influence would have had no hold on her were there not cracks to begin with, and there wasn't just a crack inside her, there was a _rift_. It was a clever manipulation, of course, one that stood to benefit the Sith Master regardless of the outcome. Be it from her attraction to Kenobi or her love for Skywalker or _both_ , as it was playing out, Sidious stood to benefit, not just by having a weapon to discredit Amidala if the situation called for it, but by creating a rift in the Jedi, be it through Kenobi's seduction, or the reveal of Skywalker's blatant disregard for the Code.

There was nothing here for him. No dark plan he was unaware of, no danger to his Master, no cause to doubt his Master's intentions. It was time to return and see how fast he could wrestle control back from the Dark Side, his quickly he could ease the insanity that took him with a fierce, clutching grasp. Just as he let go of the thread of darkness, the thin beast lashed out at him, wrapped tightly around his wrist, and before Kenobi could tear it off, it opened up, a sharp row of jagged fangs within it's serpentine mouth, and bit him, searing agony through him as he felt himself tremble, his awareness fading into the visions he so often had. The flashed by him, too fast to see, and suddenly stopped, the image vibrant and still. Kenobi squinted as he looked at it, the still image suddenly moving in real time, over and over in an infinite loop, no longer than ten seconds before it began again.

It wasn't a vision. It was a _memory_ , clear and vivid and drawn out by the thread of influence his Master commanded. He approached slowly, cautiously, a feeling of dread settling inside him as he drew closer, and Obi-Wan couldn't shake the feeling of danger. The Force was warning him to leave, but he _couldn't_. There sat Padmé, her expressive eyes wide and fearful, and standing over her, with his hands wrapped around her slender neck, was Anakin Skywalker, hate and fury and rage on the Jedi's face, the Dark Side pouring off of him like a torrent, and Obi-Wan felt unable to breathe. It was one thing if Anakin fell to the Dark Side because of Kenobi's meddling. He didn't _intend_ for it to happen, but he knew it was a possibility, but it ultimately didn't matter. He was going to kill him anyway.

It was another matter entirely if Sidious had orchestrated it, and since this memory was shown to him by the string of influence that his Master placed within the girl, it seemed _very_ likely that this was his intention. Darth Sidious only orchestrated the fall of a Jedi for _one_ reason.

He was looking for a new apprentice.

With a screaming rush within his ears and the thin thread tearing apart in his grasp as he ripped it from his arm, Obi-Wan was thrown out of the Force and back into his body to be met with wave after wave of pleasure as he moaned his climax within the lustful girl beneath him. He closed his eyes and felt the Dark Side roar in rage, the flames licking at his mind and demanding to be released, and he bit down on his lip so hard it began to bleed as he tried to regain control and push the madness away. His body tensed when slow, gentle hands ran along his back, and in a moment, clarity took over, the flames vanishing and the raging of the Force subsiding into calm, cool peace. His eyes closed, his breathing fast and ragged, he lay his head in the crook of Padmé's neck, the girl's hand's running through his hair and over his neck and shoulders in soft, soothing touches, and for the briefest of moments, he felt he held Satine in his arms once again. Padmé...needed to be protected. Not just from his Master, but from her _husband_. He hadn't felt anything so clearly since Satine had died.

He propped himself up on his elbows so he could look at the beautiful girl underneath him, and he ran his fingers over her throat, imagining the firm grasp that Anakin had gripped her with, and before he could stop himself, he said, "I saw what Anakin did."

The girl tensed, every muscle clenching defensively, her clever eyes searching him with a mix of suspicion, disbelief, and fear. "How-"

"I saw it," Obi-Wan said swiftly. "In your memory, I didn't mean to it just... _happened_." He stroked her cheek when the girl began to tremble. "He shouldn't have done that."

"I was _unfaithful_ to him, Obi-Wan," she said firmly, blushing furiously when she looked up at the man that still lay deep inside her. "I... _am_ unfaithful to him, I-"

"No, you don't," he whispered, stroking her cheek and kissing her gently, the girl trembling and shaking in remembered fear and the furious mess of her emotions. "You don't deserve to be abused, Padmé, not by him. Not by _anyone_."

"But here I am _doing this again_ ," she hissed, her hands on his chest as if she meant to push him away, but she found she didn't have the strength to.

"As you should," Obi-Wan drawled, running a hand down the length of her body, affecting his touch with the Force and smirking in delight when she shivered. "After what he did to you, _anyone_ would turn to a lover for comfort. And I'll protect you, Padme," he whispered, a possessive hand resting on her hip as he shifted, moving inside her slightly and making her moan softly in renewed arousal. It was enough, and with a groan of satisfaction, he held her close, bit at her ear, and allowed his desires to carry him. "I'll protect you from _everything_."


	97. Talzin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter became a totally different beast than I intended. I like it. I hope you do too! Crazy is just sort of my thing, I guess.

Obi-Wan felt it in the Force when she had conceived. It was a strong pulse that beat like a heart, one right after the other, and with it came visions, new and vivid like he had never known before. Hers was not the dark thrum of power that Satine exhibited when his powerful, Dark Side son took root within her. Padmé's child was quieter, a low, soft murmur , a gentle ripple in the Force as opposed to his son's sudden tidal wave. The Dark Side had roared in triumph for Satine's son, a herald of what was to come, a child born in a tide of darkness that signified the dawning of a new age that belonged rightfully to the Sith. But Padmé's pregnancy was... _different_. Soft and silent, barely perceptible, like it was some great secret that the Force held close and carefully guarded.

He couldn't imagine why that was. Perhaps the child simply wasn't as powerful as his beloved first son, which was a distinct possibility. Padmé Amidala was no Satine Kryze, after all, but he sensed this was not the case. The child was strong, or its conception wouldn't have been felt the way it was. He supposed the difference may be in himself. After all, this child, like his first, would be a prince, the future of the Sith. The difference, of course, was that Obi-Wan didn't care. He had come to... _care_ for Padmé, yes, but the fate of her child meant very little to him. This wasn't the child he wanted, wasn't the one that he had come to love. He and Satine had made their son as a promise, not just to each other, but to the future of the galaxy. Their son would be the first of the new Order of Sith, his birth would bring the death of a Master, his life would bring balance to a galaxy torn by war, and his death had dash the hopes of all of that. For Obi-Wan, Padmé's child held no such promise. All that would come of this was a new apprentice for Sidious, and Kenobi had no desire to stop it.

The visions, though, had changed. No longer did he find himself standing in the desert, two suns blazing down upon him. Now, the location was...nonspecific. A desert, a forest, a waterfall, a swamp, the inside of a ship, he couldn't tell for all the surroundings shifted and changed. But _he_ was there, the Sith and Jedi holocrons in hand, just as before, and not one, but _two_ children reached out to them. The blond boy from before stood, his hand outstretched, his blue eyes bright, and right next to him stood a girl, dark brown hair and the deep, brown eyes of her mother, her own fingers outstretched toward the holocrons. Both children were strong in the Force, and they stood in the very likeness of their parents, the girl with Padmé's dark colors, and the boy a reflection of Obi-Wan when he had been young. They had made _twins_ , which helped account for the strange, heart beat pulse he had felt when they had come to be.

"Lumis." The deep, sonorous voice pulled him out of his vision, and he opened his eyes, his body tight and aching from being still for so long. Dooku sat before him, legs crossed, posture rigid, his dark eyes touched with concern. Kenobi rolled his eyes. Since Satine's death, Dooku had done little more than... _mother_ him. "You were gone for quite some time."

"The Force takes me when it wishes, for as long as it wishes."

"Were you having visions about the mission?"

Kenobi frowned. "No, not about that. I'm not worried about that. This mission has been won before it even began." He scoffed. "You'd think our Master would want to see the bitch killed just to make sure it's over."

A faint smirk passed over Dooku's lips as he felt anger, hatred... _disgust_ flowing off the Sith Lord before him. This was... _new_. Much more like his old self. He had even eaten _breakfast_ that morning. "Is that resentment I feel, Lumis?" Dooku asked, and was pleasantly surprised when Kenobi tilted his head to the side and observed him, a clever smirk on his face and the touch of his presence reaching out to him.

"I just think that our Master has gotten _very_ comfortable letting us do the work."

"A strange thing to say for the man that had his Master come to his aid on Mandalore." It was a risk, Dooku knew, but he was prepared for the backlash, had his defenses well in place, and their lightsabers were conveniently stored away in their respective rooms aboard the _Umbra_. There was no need to carry them around on the ship, after all. There was a flash of anger within Lumis, wild and almost rabid in its intensity, and then it quickly faded. _Good_. He was regaining control, however slowly that may be.

"It's almost more strange to me that he was there at all," Obi-Wan mumbled, and Dooku felt a pulling of hope deep within him. If Kenobi had _somehow_ managed to find a reason to re-energize his desire to kill Sidious, than with all the help they currently had, it was _absolutely_ possible. "Do you think it was planned?" he asked, uncertain and unsure. "Do you think Sidious was involved somehow in Satine's death?"

"...I don't know," Dooku whispered, looking over his shoulder as if their Master were nearby, as if he could somehow hear them. "Maul was a threat, and the destruction of Mandalore got everyone's attention, even his. _Especially_ his. That one man could topple an entire empire doesn't bode well for his own plans. _And_ he was going to train your son."

Kenobi winced. "Perhaps he found out. Maybe he knew I'd never allow it, maybe he sensed my treachery. _Maybe_ ," he hissed, taking in a deep breath as he stilled his nerves. His hands were shaking. "Maybe he knew about it all along and let me have it just so he could take it all away."

"...maybe," Dooku said carefully, observing the man and trying to gauge his intentions. "But it seems unlike our Master. If he was going to kill Satine, he would have waited until _after_ your son was born. He could have his apprentice, and he could have guaranteed your subservience by depriving you of your lover and holding the safety of your son over you as a threat."

Kenobi bit his lip and looked away. That was _far_ more cruel. Dooku was right. That's the path Sidious would have taken. "...maybe so."

"The real question, Lumis," Dooku said quietly, "is why you are harboring doubts about our Master now."

"I...saw something," Obi-Wan whispered. "Not a vision, a memory." He closed his eyes, tried to think of a good way to discuss the madness that he had witnessed, the culmination of Sidious' manipulations on Padmé, but he could think of nothing that made him sound less insane than he felt. "Do you think he'd be looking for a new apprentice?" was the question he settled on, and going off Dooku's reaction, he failed as coming across as anything other than stark raving mad.

"He has you, what could he possibly want with another apprentice?"

"He had _you_ when he took me, Tyranus."

Dooku sighed heavily. "Yes, but...as you said at the time, I'm an old man. I'm hardly the future of the Sith Lords. He needed someone young and powerful, and the Dark Side gave him _you_." He growled and slicked back his hair, a deep frown on his face. "You understand the Force better than most, Lumis. You know it strives for balance. The nature of balance is up for debate, but there's no hiding that in response to the Jedi receiving Anakin Skywalker, the Force gave _you_ to the Sith." Kenobi's eyes shot to him quickly, wide and confused, and Dooku chuckled deeply. "This _is_ about Skywalker, isn't it?"

"Y-yes, but how-"

"You are not so difficult to read as you think, Lumis," the Count said, both amused and disdainful. "You make his wife your mistress and since then, everything you do has been about him. Surely you have seen something to make you believe our Master has designs on him."

"...I have." He took a deep breath as he felt for the Force, still and calm and cold around him, the flames driven from his mind in favor of the serenity of silence. "I stand opposite Anakin Skywalker in the Force itself," he said firmly. "But, if he joins the darkness...where does that leave me?"

Dooku found himself at a loss for words. He certainly didn't have the answers the young Sith Lord sought. He laid his hand on the boy's shoulder, still thin, but slowly beginning to regain the health he had before Satine had perished. "You're going to kill him, Lumis. Your fears are without merit, and if you believe our Master means to replace you with this... _Jedi_ , killing Skywalker will make Sidious think twice about where he places his faith."

"And our Master will die for it," Kenobi said, and Dooku leaned away from him, the strain of madness clear in the man's voice. His insanity made him powerful, terribly so, but it also made him dangerous and unpredictable. It was no way to kill Darth Sidious, not when it would require tremendous focus in addition to rage, and Sidious would never show weakness in the face of poor, insane Darth Lumis. Murderous intent had again been planted within the boy. They could stand to wait until he was ready.

"Not until you kill Skywalker," Dooku said firmly, groaning as he rose to his feet. "And now, we need to focus on the task at hand."

Kenobi scoffed as he jumped to his feet. "We don't need to focus, we have already won." A short, manic chuckle was torn out of the young Sith, and he shut his eyes tightly against the encroaching madness. "I'll show him," he mumbled. "I will defeat his enemies, I will lead the Sith to victor, and Master will _never_ have cause to doubt me..."

Dooku sighed, shook his head, and followed his fellow into the cockpit to see Dathomir hanging large and red in the forward viewport. It would all be over soon. Kenobi had, at least, been right when he said that the mission had already been won. Talzin was down there, alive, as they had suspected, and Sidious had demanded that they go and finish what they had started. When Dathomir was purged, they suspected that Talzin escaped into the magics of her tribe, whatever vile misconstruction of the Force she commanded, and through Maul's memories, Obi-Wan had confirmed this. She had survived the slaughter of her people, yes, but bringing back Maul had forced her into something of an incorporeal form, a creature of green mist without a physical presence. It was unacceptable, of course. Sidious demanded her death, and one could not bring death to a phantom.

With Maul's defeat on Mandalore, Sidious began to feel a stirring deep in the Dark Side, strange and unfamiliar as Talzin's spirit howled in the wrath of revenge unfulfilled. It was only a matter of time before the witch found a way to rise again, and finally, after months of waiting, Sidious gathered his apprentices and informed them of something dark stirring on the planet Bardotta. Pong Krell was dispatched to investigate, and when he returned, he reported that within their capital city was a strong following of Force sensitive Bardottans, hundreds of them, and _none_ of them had survived. They had been drained, the very Force energy within them torn out of their bodies, and Sidious felt the touch of the Nightsister within them. She was alive, and with the power of the Force stolen from the Bardottans, she had resumed physical form. The moment of revenge was at hand.

The trick, of course, was to draw Talzin out of hiding, and with Dathomir as her seat of power, it was unlikely she would leave, and defeating her on her own territory had been shown to be fruitless before. But before, she had been prepared, and this time, they would catch her off guard, and Obi-Wan had a good idea of how that was to be accomplished. All the woman had left was her son, and it was through Maul that they would trap and kill the witch, and that effort was easy enough.

Maul had, of course, escaped his captivity on Mustafar in a daring escape by a handful of Weequay pirates who were loyal to the Hutt Cartel and demanded revenge for the execution of the Hutt Council on Nal Hutta. They had turned to the leader of the Shadow Collective for guidance. After all, he had dealt a crushing blow to his enemies on Mandalore and would surely do so again, were he given the chance. And so they fled to Dathomir, the one place Maul felt he could turn, the place where he had been restored once before. It was all too perfect. Kenobi would have to send Hondo a case of the most expensive liquor he could find to thank him for the brilliant use of his men.

"Are you certain you won't be detected?" Dooku asked softly as the ship drew closer to the planet. Kenobi nodded.

" _Nobody_ senses me in the Force if I don't want them to."

"That was before madness gripped you, Lumis," Dooku said frankly. "You aren't exactly subtle when you're stark-raving mad."

"Maybe not..." He breathed deeply and centered himself, reached out through the Force to the planet below and felt _death_. Complete destruction. Murder and the Dark Side, wild and rampant like the Sith themselves. It may be the seat of Talzin's power, but with the execution of the Nightsisters, the Sith's Dark Side overshadowed the innate power of Dathomir. "Maul exists because of Talzin," he whispered. "Without her, he never would have come back, he never would have killed Satine, and I would have been one month away from being a father. This is the last of my revenge, this is the end of it. With Talzin's death, Satine will finally be avenged. Do _not_ underestimate my focus in seeing this through."

Dooku chuckled deeply, crossed his arms before his chest and leaned against the wall, watching as Kenobi took the controls in his hands and maneuvered them down into Dathomir's atmosphere. "I've no doubt in your abilities, Lumis. But getting in unseen-"

"Won't be a problem," he finished, settling the ship down in the large clearing where he had landed with Grievous when they came to destroy the Nightsisters. Even now, months after the massacre, there were bodies _everywhere_ , a fresh reminder of what happens to those that cross the Sith. "I'll need half an hour," Kenobi said softly, powering down the ship and rising from his seat to stride down the halls toward his room. "By then, I'll be in position. Then _you_ will show up, and we're going to have ourselves an execution." He shrugged. "Or I'll be dead, and you'll be walking into Talzin's clutches."

"How very appealing..." he droned as Kenobi picked up his lightsabers from his desk and clipped them on to his belt. "And you don't think she will _disappear_ when she sees me?"

"Of course not, my dear Duke!" Kenobi drawled, patting the unamused man's cheek. " _You_ are the point. Without you, how can she draw out Sidious? He came to the aid of one apprentice, surely he will come to save the other when held in the clutches of a very real threat..." He shrugged. "In her estimation, in any case. She's made a mistake in underestimating Sith ingenuity."

"Is she?"

"I have a few tricks up my sleeve." Kenobi flashed Dooku a wicked smile as he left his room, making his way to the entry hatch where the boarding ramp had already been extended. "You're coming along to hide my presence, just in case Talzin senses something's up." With one last smirk at Dooku, Kenobi stepped out into the cold, still night of Dathomir and immediately blended into the shadows.

* * *

Maul was nearly foaming at the mouth by the time the Weequay carried him into the dark depths of the Nightsister's lair. There were ghosts here. There were ghosts _everywhere_. The ruined, mangled metal of his legs twitched and he grit his teeth in pain as he looked upon them as they sparked and hissed and failed to respond to his commands. All that was left in them was the odd impulse to move, a command received but not acted upon since the rancor deprived him of the use of his legs for good. It was Kenobi's fault! _Kenobi_!

He whimpered, writhing in the grasp of the pirates, and they stopped to get a better hold on him, but the Zabrak dropped to the ground, howling and whimpering in panic and pain. Kenobi would not allow this! Kenobi would hunt him, Kenobi would find him, and Kenobi would make him _suffer_ for his escape! Escape was a dream that he did not deserve, not after what he had done, not after he had angered his Master Kenobi. He dug his hands into the hard dirt of the ground, the stumps of his cybernetics twitching uselessly as he scrambled for a grip to pull himself back toward the cave's entrance. He had to get out, he had to go back! If he returned, if Kenobi knew he returned on his own, if he understood that he hadn't _wanted_ to be saved, than maybe the Master would have mercy. Maybe he would pity the creature, _the slave_ that was stolen from him. Maybe _then_ he would be allowed to lay beside the Master, his legs fixed between the mighty jaws of the rancor, and just _watch_ as Kenobi laid his attentions on someone else.

The Weequay scooped him up, and Maul screamed his reluctance before he began sobbing, curling up in their grasp and resolving himself to freedom, bleak and terrible and fleeting as it was. His red and black torso, thin - _so thin_!- even thinner than his Master's, convulsed with the wracking sobs that tore through him. He didn't want this, and they didn't understand. They were looking for the crime lord, Maul, leader of the Shadow Collective, but it was exactly that. _A shadow_. Something unreal, something that fled before the fires of Lumis, the Sith Lord of Light, not the comforting light of day, but the light of fire, burning and searing and painful to look upon, light so bright it cast long shadows darker than the black of night, so bright it could blind someone and plunge them into darkness forever, just as Maul had been. It was over, and they _didn't understand_!

"Hush, my Lord," one of the Weequay said, and Maul winced at the soft tone. Soft tones usually brought pain with them, pain and suffering hidden under the guise of kindness. His Master had shown him that. His Master had taught him _everything_...

"We're almost there..." the other said, and Maul began sobbing anew when he saw that familiar green light, that _cursed_ thing that brought him back from insanity, restored his mind, gave him focus, purpose, a _brother_...all which he would lose. All which would be taken from him by Kenobi...

His teeth clenched tightly for a moment when anger ripped through him, and in a moment, it was gone, leaving him cowering and whimpering in submission to the Master that was not there, _not yet_ , but would be, and soon. Kenobi, _Master_ , had taken everything from him for a _reason_! He hadn't murdered Savage because he was cruel, he had murdered Savage so that Maul may _understand_ what it was like to lose someone dear, so that he may share in the pain of his Master, pain that _he_ had inflicted upon Kenobi. In the act of doing such, it was he that killed his brother, not Kenobi. He hadn't taken his legs to be cruel either. Kenobi had taken his legs, given him to his rancor as a plaything because he was suited to nothing else. Because no matter where he went, there was no escape from him, from the Dark Side, from the Sith. He took his wrath from him as well, his anger, not because he was a threat, but because anger was the domain of the Sith, and Maul was _not_ Sith. Anger wasn't for him to feel, for him to touch, and it was taken from him so Maul could understand that _his_ was subservience, complete and absolute, and were he to accept this, relinquish his anger to his Master and accept his role, he would find _peace_ in his place, in what he was made for.

He wasn't insane, not like before. Now, he saw _clearly_. His Master had shown him the truth, and the truth _freed him_. Freed him from everything so that he may lay his life in the hands of his Master. And these _wretches_ were stealing him from it. He began thrashing once again, twisting in their grasp and trying to get away, but the Weequay had a better grasp on him than before, and with the green, glowing light of the pools that surrounded the alter at the center of the shrine in sight, they drove forward faster, their goal just within reach.

They laid Maul on the cold, dark stone of the alter, and he immediately flipped onto his stomach and grabbed the edge to pull himself off, but was stopped when a white, long-fingered hand stroked his back. He flipped over, his bloodshot eyes wide as he looked up into the face of Mother Talzin.

"Maul..." she said softly, _gently_ , a hand stroking his cheek and Maul _winced_ , flinched away from her as though her touch were pain. "...what have they done to you?"

"Let me go!" he shouted, shivered, curled up on the stone slab and trembled in anticipation of being touched again. "Let me go..." he mumbled quietly, and continued to mumble until the woman brought her magic down upon him, stilling his shaking, his shivering, the spasmodic twitching in his broken legs. She looked around the vast, dark expanse and hissed in frustration.

"I have nothing with which to fix your legs, my son," she said softly, her voice mingling with the dark undertones that belied her power.

"I need to go," he muttered. "Master will be looking for me, _Master_..."

Talzin hissed. " _Sidious_?" she snarled, and Maul stilled, looked at her with a lack of understanding, like a child who found himself lost. He barely recognized the name. Sidious, Sidious...

"N-no," he gasped. "My Master is Lumis. Lumis, _Kenobi_..." He reached out and grabbed the long, looping sleeve of her robe, tugging it frantically. " _Please_! When he comes for me, tell him I didn't want to be here, tell him I wanted to go home!"

"You _are_ home."

" _No_! No, no, _home_! Home to _him_ , home with my Master..." A sudden sob wracked his body, his protruding ribs heaving as he hyperventilated, and Talzin summoned her magic, the green mist touching his mind, but she found... _nothing_. None of the insanity that had plagued him before, none of the madness that years and years of pain and pervasive thoughts of revenge had brought. His mind was clear. It was his _spirit_ that was wounded, irreparably so, and there was no magic she knew that could mend a torn spirit.

She shot up, her strange, pale eyes peering through the darkness. She felt something, a pulling deep inside her, a whisper of warning from the dark. Something was here. _Someone_ was here. She closed her eyes, dug deep, and felt him, a presence long gone, but _never_ forgotten. The vessel of her revenge. _Count Dooku_.

Perhaps magic could not free her tortured son, but revenge could, revenge _always_ could. It could be a balm on the soul, could mend even the deepest of wounds, and with the Sith dead, there would be no Master for Maul to return to, no Dark Lord for him to fear. His life had been defined enough by the Sith. Now was the time to end it.

"Count Dooku is here," she said, circling around the alter and keeping her focus centered on the pulling of darkness she felt. "He will come, Maul, we will trap him here in the center of my power, and we will use him to lure Darth Sidious to us."

"No, no, no, no, no," he muttered, twitching and writhing on the stone as his eyes darted about the darkness, looking for a presence he sensed but could not place. "Master will kill us, Master will-"

"Him too, Maul," she growled. "All Sith. Dooku shall be the instrument of our revenge." She fell silent, the feel growing stronger, the pull tugging harder, and she began to hear footsteps, slow, casual, ponderous, echoing throughout the cavern. She closed her eyes and focused deep on his presence, on his footfalls, on his exact location, and when she was certain she had it, certain she felt _exactly_ where he stood, she reached out, commanding her magic to take hold of the Sith Lord and bring him to her. The wind suddenly rose, inexplicable in the depths of the cave, whipping at her robes as green mist gathered, forming and collecting into a giant orb, big enough for someone to stand inside, and with a wave of her hand, the mist scattered, and in the air before her, suspended by the wrists with swirling, green energy, was Count Dooku.

"My dearest Count..." Talzin drawled, coming so close she ran her hand down his bearded cheek. Dooku rolled his eyes, completely unamused.

"Mother Talzin..." he said dismissively. "You have a funny way of being dead."

"You have a funny way of coming into someone's home uninvited."

Dooku scoffed. "A home whose only occupants are ghosts." The insufferable smirk on the Count's face made Talzin's temper flare, the pale mist swirling around her feet suddenly becoming choppy like a storm at sea.

"And who is at fault for _that_?"

"You," Dooku said casually. "You knew better than to challenge the Sith." Maul whimpered, wriggling away from the Count, turning on his side to face away from him as he curled up against the cold.

" _You_ executed the people of Dathomir!" she snarled. "All my brothers, all my sisters, _dead_ because of _you_."

"Me?" Dooku asked, both amused by her anger and surprised by her accusation. "I didn't set foot on this desolate waste."

"But you _sent them_." The Count said nothing, only smirked cruelly in response. "Why have you come, Dooku?" she asked, drawing close once again. "What use is there for a Sith Lord in a house of ghosts and spirits?"

"None at all," he said casually. "But a good friend of mine seems to have lost his _pet_." His eyes drifted to Maul's thin, shaking form on the alter, and Talzin quickly moved to block his view. "I consider it a personal favor that I bring his pet back. He was easy enough to trace, after he got out of his cage..." Dooku growled, glaring at the Weequay that stood far in the shadows, trying to keep out of sight. Talzin began to laugh, cold and harsh, the dark undertones of her voice seeming to stir the very air around her.

"And now, Dooku, you are _mine_." She extended her hand, summoning the might of her powers and mist surrounded Dooku, circling around him and permeating through him, and the Count's body went rigid, his eyes wide as pain rushed through him. "I need you alive, Dooku," she said softly, her skull-like visage grinning morbidly in the low, green lighting. "But you will suffer unlike any other. For my sisters. For my planet. For my _sons_ , and when your Master comes for you, you will die, as will he."

Green lightning leapt from her fingertips, striking the Sith Lord in the chest, the Count finally gasping and groaning in pain, writhing against his bonds, helpless to do anything. Maul chanced a look back, slowly rolled over to see Talzin bringing a Sith Lord to heel, the man suffering, weakening, _dying_ under his mother's brutal touch. He hadn't thought it was possible to kill a Sith Lord. After all, he had survived, and while he was no Sith any longer, he had been once, a long time ago. But Dooku _was_ dying. He could feel it in the Force as the old man weakened, as Talzin focused on him to the exclusion of all else, her wrath so great it threatened to tear the very ground apart.

He could have sworn it was a trick of the light, something brought on by his feverish, fearful mind, but the cold pit in his stomach, the trembling that wracked his body told him otherwise. Right behind the Nightsister, Kenobi stepped out of the shadows, crouching down to remain silent, his lightsabers held deactivated in his hands. He moved silent as darkness itself, and Maul had a chance, this _single_ chance, to call out and warn Talzin, to save his Mother, to alert her in her time of need, and from her place of power, she would make herself as mist, lash out and defeat the treacherous Sith Lords. It could all be over, _all of it_. All he needed to do was warn her, and the Sith would be finished. _All of them_.

Maul closed his eyes and turned his head away, pressing his hands tightly to his ears. He didn't want to see, didn't want to hear the inevitable outcome, didn't want to show his Master the weakness of his faithfulness to him.

In a moment, the lightning stopped, the painful ringing in Dooku's ears replaced by the low, familiar thrumming of plasma in the air, the green hue of mist covering the area replaced by the blood red cast by Darth Lumis' lightsaber, the wicked blade extending from a shocked Talzin's chest. She slumped over, her body sagging as the power left her, and with a clear, sharp hiss, Kenobi's darksaber came to life, laid gently, _carefully_ , next to the woman's neck, and with one, clean slash, the Sith Lord severed the Nightsister's head. The bindings that held Dooku faded into nothing, and the Count dropped down onto shaking, unstable legs.

"What took you so long!" Dooku snarled, rubbing his chest where the lightning had struck. Kenobi shrugged.

"I wanted to make sure she _actually_ died this time, it wouldn't do us any good if her focus was divided and she noticed me. We'd have to track her down all over again. Besides," he said, carefree as he deactivated the weapons and attached them back to his belt. "I said _half an hour_. You gave me fifteen minutes."

"If you weren't ready by then, you'd never be," he growled. "I was tired of waiting!"

Kenobi staggered back, eyes wide and clutching his heart. " _You_?!" he gasped. "The great and mighty _Darth Tyranus_?! _Impatient_?!" Kenobi took a few deep, fast breaths. "Oh, my heart can't take this, I think I'm going into _shock_!"

"Nobody thinks you're funny, Lumis," Dooku droned, and the other man looked up at him with wide, frantic eyes.

"No, this isn't funny at all! I think I'm _dying_!" The two Sith stared at each other in silence for a long while, neither of them moving, until Kenobi burst out laughing as he bent over and picked Talzin's head off the ground. "Think Master will be happy this witch is finally dead?"

"Put that down, Lumis, it might have diseases."

"Hmm." He turned around to face the alter, a sly, wicked grin spreading across his face when he saw the Nightbrother shaking, eyes wide and looking at the head he held. "Oh, _Maul_..."

"M-master..." he whimpered, scrambling on the alter, the twisted metal of his legs scraping lines of sparks along its smooth surface, and he fell upon the ground. Slowly, he clawed his way to the Sith Lord and tightly wrapped his arms around one of his legs, shaking and trembling as he stared directly into the skull-like face of Talzin. "I didn't want to go, I didn't want-"

" _Silence_ , pet, I know," Kenobi drawled, whistling sharply and the Weequay walked out of the shadows. "Boys, pick this up," he said, his voice laced with disgust as he kicked Maul off his leg. "I need that carried back to the ship." Laughing amongst themselves, the Weequay hauled the whimpering, compliant Maul up, the Nightbrother shaking and trembling, but made no attempt to escape as he had before. He was going home. _Home_...

"Master..."

"You have been _very_ good, pet," Kenobi cooed, leaning over the shivering man and stroking his head, a wicked smile on his face as the creature winced and whimpered, a conditioned response to the cruelty that followed such a comforting gesture. " _Very_ good. I'm even going to _reward_ you!" Maul looked expectantly at the man, and suddenly stopped breathing then the Sith Lord dangled the severed head in front of him. "I'm going to let you present _that_ to Darth Sidious. I can't imagine _anything_ pleasing me more." He pushed it toward the gagging Zabrak. "Go on. Thank me and take it."

"...t-thank you, Master," Maul whimpered, reaching out with shaking hands and taking it, holding it close as the Weequay, obviously servants of his Master, carried him from the lair. This was all as his Master planned, and he was glad he had behaved in a way that honored the Sith Lord. Otherwise, he would be left to face the man's wrath once again, far more fierce than it would have been otherwise. Resistance was pointless, as today went to show. If his mother, if _Talzin_ hadn't been so foolish, had seen the grace and the wisdom of the Sith...than perhaps her son wouldn't have to carry her head all the way back to Mustafar.

"You think it's over?" Kenobi asked, watching Maul out of the corner of his eye. Dooku nodded.

"It's over. The magic she commanded lays still. You collected her _head_ , Lumis, what more proof do you need?"

"I suppose I'm just used to Nightsisters having a nasty habit of escaping death."

Dooku growled in agreement. "It's wise to not underestimate your enemies. But what's dead is dead. As you know, there is no coming back from that."

"...yes." He sighed, breathing deep of the air heavy with the stench of death as they left the cave. He much preferred it to the dank, musty, stagnant air of the Nightsister's lair. "Do you suppose our Master will be pleased?"

"Oh yes. _Very_ much so."

Kenobi smiled and said little else on their walk back to the _Umbra_. The Black Sun and the Pykes were gone. The Hutts were dead or served him. Mandalore had the starts of a new Empire. Maul was in his eternal custody, broken beyond repair, and now Talzin was dead. There wasn't much else in terms of revenge that he could do for Satine and their son and he felt...empty. The ache returned, deeper and more painful than before, but it was gone a moment later, soothed away by what he could have sworn was the lightest brush of fingertips on his cheek. He shook his head and pressed forward to his ship. He had to get off Dathomir. There were ghosts everywhere on this cursed place.


	98. The Homestead

"If you can't find him, you aren't looking hard enough!" Anakin shouted at the severely cross hologram of Aayla Secura. "We know where he lives, we know the places he likes to go, _why is this so hard_?!"

" _You_ haven't found him either, Skywalker," the Twi'lek snarled, her lekku squirming in irritation. "And let's remember how that assault on Mustafar went, shall we?"

"Don't say it, don't even-"

"Two thousand clones dead, a Star Destroyer blown up, and the team that _made it_ to the ground?" She laughed, hard and angry. "Eaten by a _rancor_." She paused, took a deep breath, and shouted, " _And he wasn't even there_!"

"I know!" Anakin snapped, running his hand over his face and trying to take deep, calming breaths to bring his emotions back under control. It wasn't working. "I know...look, maybe that team couldn't make it, but if we get the _right_ team on the ground-"

"No." The answer was swift, hard, and left no room for compromise. Secura may have been on the Council, but she was making all the wrong decisions. They couldn't meet this Sith Lord with caution, he needed to be met head on, bold Jedi meets Sith brashness. If _he_ were on the Council, he'd make them understand this. "There is no _right team_ for this mission," she continued. "It was luck that got them on the ground in the first place, and they were killed the second they stepped inside the compound. We won't be able to land another team safely."

"Yes we can, with the right pilot, we can," Anakin said swiftly. "I can get us down there safely. Get me a team and-"

" _Nobody_ will go on this with you, Skywalker, it's too risky." She crossed her arms. "Suppose you don't make it down there. Then what? We lose another team, and we lose _you_. We don't even know what's in that palace. Even _Tarkin_ thinks attacking Mustafar is stupid, he's _livid_ that you attacked anyway!"

Anakin sighed heavily. She was right, of course. Three weeks out on a tireless search for Obi-Wan was beginning to fray his already raw nerves. They had seen him _nowhere_ , and it was almost like he had disappeared completely, like he somehow wasn't part of the war anymore. It was like his task had suddenly been completed, and he was content to just sit back and watch the rest of the galaxy burn, the result of the sires he had set. The Mandalorian Empire had calmed, its position firmly established, and Bo-Katan sat on the throne vacated by her sister, a harder ruler than peaceful Satine, and it showed in the way she handled diplomacy, which was not at all.

Obi-Wan wasn't on Mandalore, or in Hutt Space, now the Mandalorian Empire, of that he was certain. After all, if Anakin lost someone, he sure as hell wouldn't return to the planet he lost them on. It was one of the reasons he kept so far away from Tatooine, but now that _Kenobi_ had tampered with his family, he'd _have_ to return. He'd been putting it off, though, but he wouldn't be able to any longer, not when Kenobi's trail was cold, and his brother may have been the last one to see him. Owen _may_ know something.

"Maybe this isn't unusual," Aayla said softly when Anakin didn't respond. "We can count on one hand the number of battles that he's been involved in during the war."

"That we _know_ he's been involved in," Anakin corrected, and she nodded.

"Yes, but that's the point, isn't it? He's been covert and secretive since the beginning, nearly everything he does is underhanded and used as set up or a distraction for something else. We're hunting him the wrong way, and he's trapping us because of it."

"...Tarkin said the same thing."

"He's right, Anakin. _Hunting_ him isn't working. What we need to do is predict his next move." She shrugged. " _Or_ , we look for Master Quinlan, who _is_ an ostentatious bastard."

Anakin snorted with repressed laughter. "Wasn't he sort of like an undercover Jedi spy?"

"Yes, but one that left broken bottles and heartbroken women in his wake." She winked at him. "I'll find Master Vos, and if Kenobi isn't with him when I find him, I suspect he'll show up quickly."

He nodded, feeling significantly better for having discussed something of a plan, even if it was very basic. "Keep in contact, Master Secura. I'll be looking as well."

"May the Force be with you, Skywalker," she said softly, and the com blinked out, leaving an irritate Anakin to stand on the bridge of his ship, his Admiral by his side, unamused, and tapping his foot in irritation.

"Oh!" Tarkin said brightly, at just the right moment when there were no sounds on the bridge, and Anakin tensed in surprise. "Has sanity reasserted itself?"

"...maybe..."

"Excellent. Because if you're done sending people on suicide missions and otherwise wasting our time chasing shadows, we have a _war_ to fight."

"We _have_ been fighting, Tarkin," Anakin sighed, but a quick glare from his Admiral silenced him. He _had_ been acting badly, and quick flares of his temper had forced Tarkin to take control more than once. He couldn't help it. Thoughts of Obi-Wan set his blood boiling, and he couldn't get the thought of him and Padmé out of his mind. He thought they may be visions. They had been before, but he didn't know it then, and Qui-Gon _had_ said that it would happen again...

"Small skirmishes on moons nobody cares about doesn't count as _fighting_ , General." Tarkin whipped out the datapad that he so often carried with him. "Right now, there are major battles on Cato Neimoidia, Anaxes, Zanbar, and it looks like they're fighting on Mygeeto." He snapped the datapad shut. " _Again_. General, you can make the difference in any one of these battles, as well as the hundreds of others that are happening all across the galaxy, and instead, we're out here wasting our time hunting a man that has it out for _you_." He sniffed and tucked his datapad back into the folds of his jacket. "It's a _terrible_ misuse of Republic resources."

"This isn't _personal_ , Tarkin, Kenobi's a threat to us all!"

"Oh, don't give me that!" Tarkin snapped, his veneer of cool slipping for a moment before he straightened up once again. "He's _gone_. The Shadow King indeed, he's disappeared now that the Mandalorian conquest is complete, and the only thing we've heard from him these past few weeks are small things aimed _right_ at you. He doesn't care about this war, General, he cares about _you_." He sighed heavily and stepped closer to the Jedi. "Sir. We can't chase a man like that. He wants us to chase him, he _wants it_. He wants you angry, and it's working, and he wants to engage us, but on _his_ terms. If we ignore him and return to the war, he will come to _us_."

Anakin looked over his Admiral carefully and felt relief wash over him. "You're sure."

"I'm sure." He straightened up. "Or else, he'll do something big and destructive to get attention, but that at least gives us something to work with. It's better than chasing shadows as we have been."

Anakin nodded. "You're right. Thank you, Tarkin."

"My pleasure, General."

Anakin patted the man on his shoulders. "Set a course for Tatooine, I need to see my brother." He turned away and quickly began walking off the bridge. He didn't want to look at Tarkin's absolute shock and horror.

"Sir!" the Admiral cried after him. "Sir, we _just talked about this_!" Anakin pretended not to hear him and strode out of the bridge to go meditate in his cabin. He had a great deal of anger he needed to get under control.

* * *

"You have," Owen said as he laid a plate of Beru's stew in front of his brother, " _very_ nice, very _helpful_ friends."

"O-oh yeah?" Anakin asked, his voice tense and high-pitched as he tried, and failed, to keep the strain out of him. Owen had wanted to talk about his marriage to Beru, about Anakin's training, about news from the war, about the war in general. By the time news got out to Tatooine, it had been warped and twisted so much that it was hardly more than exaggerated fabrications based on bits and pieces of what _actually_ happened. Everyone knew there was a war, of course, but nobody really knew anything about it, certainly not who was fighting or why. Tatooine's harsh environment left little room for worrying about much other than the status of the vaporators, or where the Tuscans were moving towards.

Even things that happened _on_ the planet became tall tales by the time they reached Owen's ears. The recent attack, or _attacks_ on Tatooine had been shocking, but only because everything had been destroyed, and even that didn't last. Jabba the Hutt, supposedly, came and quickly patched things up, reestablished the cantinas and the vital repair shops as the people slowly began to rebuild. But at the end of the day, Owen remembered the attacks because, on that day, he housed not one, but _three_ Jedi Masters in his home, and not just for a few hours, for _two days_. And with business out of the way, it was the only thing the farm boy had wanted to talk about.

"The green one," he said as he sat down across from Anakin, "Luminara. She was _very_ quiet, but she helped get us some needed supplies from the Jawas for _half_ of what they were asking!"

Anakin frowned, pretending to listen intently. It hadn't been _that_ long since she had escaped Republic custody, and he wondered how much Kenobi had taught her. Barriss never had any talent in the Mind Trick, but she had always been an impressive diplomat like Luminara. And, _ironically_ , like Obi-Wan. If she was using those skills combined with the mental manipulations of her new Master, it could be very, _very_ bad. Nobody wanted a second Negotiator wandering around the galaxy. "Yeah, she's..." Anakin started, stuttering when he tried to think of something her would say about the _actual_ Luminara. "She's... _very_ good with people."

" _I know!_ She was really impressive! She said she'd come back and teach me some negotiation tactics, if she has the time when the war's over! When do you think that'll be?"

" _No_!" Anakin gasped, covering up his sudden outburst by shoveling soup into his mouth. He took hit time to slowly swallow, pretending that it was hotter than it was. "No," he said again, calmer, smiling slightly to ease the surprise off Owen's face. "She's _really_ busy with the war, Owen. Jedi can't just do what they want, you know?"

He smiled, laughed, scratched the back of his neck in mild embarrassment. "Yes, I know, Anakin." He grinned broadly again. "The other one, the one with the tattoo? He talks _a lot_. I thought Jedi were supposed to be...you know, quiet and contemplative and stuff, but he wasn't like that _at all_." Owen smiled warmly at his brother. "Kind of like you!"

"I don't talk _that_ much!"

"No, but you don't do that meditation thing very well, right? Your teacher was always telling you stuff."

Anakin sighed. "That's what Jedi Masters _do_ , Owen, they _tell you stuff_. My _friends_ , Owen, what else did they do?" The boy just shrugged, and Anakin groaned. "The talky one, Quinlan. What did he talk about?"

"I don't know, the war, mostly. We don't get much news here." He smiled again. "He was _really_ touchy, though. He touched _everything_. All the time. When he wasn't out scouting to make sure things were clear for them to leave." Owen turned his attention to his soup just in time to miss the horror on Skywalker's face. Master Vos' talents in psychometry were well known, and if the rogue Jedi had been in that home touching _everything_...maybe Kenobi didn't learn much about Anakin, since his visits were infrequent, but he'd know _everything_ about his family. Possibly more than Anakin knew himself. Rage flashed through him, hot and cold all at once, and he tightly gripped the spoon in his hand, the concave metal bending under the pressure of the Force. Tarkin had been right. Kenobi wasn't targeting the Jedi anymore, he was targeting _him_ , and he was going after his family to do it. His wife. His _brother_. It was wretched. _Cowardly_. If Obi-Wan Kenobi were even half a man, he'd stand and face him instead of striking from the shadows like some slippery snake.

"The other?" Skywalker asked softly, looking to his bent spoon and descretely hiding it under the table while he unbent it. "What about the other?" Anakin almost vomited when a warm, wide smile graced his clueless brother's face.

"He was the _best_ , Anakin! He was so much like you!" The color drain from Skywalker's face and his shoulders shook as he repressed the retching of his stomach. He was, without question, going to be _sick_. "He was unbelievably helpful. He even fixed up the vaporaters! I don't know what he did, but the water's never been sweeter or cooler than it is now."

"Y-you don't say..." _Sith magic_. It must have been, he was doing _something_...

"He's really good with mechanics and stuff, yeah. He even fine tuned the droids, fixed the broken ones and optimized my speeder!" Owen smiled brighter than Anakin had seen in a very long time. "Do you work with him on mechanics too?" Anakin absently nodded. He wasn't listening anymore. Something must have been done here that wasn't weirdly helpful. _Why_ would he go out of his way for _farmers_ , let alone Anakin's family? Was he going to hold them hostage later? This couldn't end well, not at all. "He looked to be your age, brother," Owen said between spoonfuls of soup. "But he said he was a Master. Can you be that young and be a Master?"

Anakin shook his head. "No, you can't..."

"...he must be _unbelievably_ talented!"

" _He isn't, Owen_!" Anakin finally snapped, leaping to his feet and bearing down on the unsuspecting farmer, and Owen just slunk down in his seat to stare up at his brother. He wasn't afraid. He was concerned for his compassionate brother. He seemed so... _angry_ , something he was never before, and never truly witnessed like this until the day their mother died. "What else did he say, Owen?" Anakin asked harshly. "What else did he _do_?!"

"...nothing much, Anakin," Owen said softly. "He wanted to know mostly about what it was like out here. I talked most of the time. He asked about how I met Beru, how I liked moisture farming, the things we did when you came here...he asked about our mother." Danger flashed in Anakin's eyes, and when Owen saw it, he held his breath, afraid of what he may do. It was the same look the passionate man had in his eyes when he had killed the Tuscans.

"...what was his name, Owen?" Anakin whispered, his voice like ice.

Owen opened his mouth to answer, then stopped, wriggling back up into his seat and looking away as he thought. "You know..." he said softly. "I didn't get his name. He stayed with us for two days, I must have heard it..." He shrugged. "I think we just called him Master."

Anakin had enough. With a vicious snarl, he tore out of the room, taking long strides through the homestead so he could stand out in the swirling sand and whipping winds of Tatooine. He _hated_ it here, and what was worse, Obi-Wan had been _in the house_ for _two days_ with his followers, not doing evil, it seemed, but _making nice_. He didn't sense the Dark Side within the homestead, didn't feel the influence of Sith evil like he could in Padme, and as he dashed across the dunes to the nearest of the fifty plus vaporators that Owen kept on his territory and opened the service panel, he found that the innards _had_ been tampered with, not just optimized, but _severely_ improved. For a moment, Anakin almost admired the genius of the work involved, was uncertain why he had never thought to do such a thing before to improve the condition of the valuable water, but farming had never been to Anakin's taste When he had remembered that this was _Obi-Wan_ that did this, he shouted in frustration and slammed the panel shut, trudging back through the sand to the homestead.

Something was wrong. Something _had_ to be. There was no way that Obi-Wan Kenobi, Sith Lord extra ordinaire Darth Lumis, would murder Jedi, burn planets, raise empires to undermine the Republic, seduce _his wife_ , and then come to Tatooine to _improve_ the lives of a couple of farmers. The thought was unthinkable, especially considering that Owen was Anakin's family. He hadn't been shy about taking away other things from Skywalker and the Jedi Order as a whole, so why should now be different? Something else was here. Something _had_ to be. The comlink on his wrist beeped as he strode into the homestead, but he ignored it, keeping his eyes focused straight ahead to keep from seeing his mother's grave, filled with the fear of what he would feel if he so much as glanced in the direction. Just knowing it was there was sending him into a near panic as it was, his heart pounding, his lungs vibrating with every breath, his hands beginning to tremble with fear and pain and remembered rage.

The feeling was so like what he now felt for Obi-Wan. Back then, with his mother, there had been the visions of her dying, suffering, in pain, the chilling grip of fear that held him when he thought of losing her, the blinding rage that sunk bone deep when she _had_ died. The grim satisfaction of driving his lightsaber into the hapless Tuscans. The feel of power that coursed through him when he understood how much they feared him. The _joy_ he got in watching them fall...all of it so, so like his new fears of losing Padmé. There were the dreams that plagued him of her passions with a Sith Lord, the fear they may be real, the anger, the _hate_ that overtook him when he knew his dreams were _visions_ , the deep freeze of the Force when he had looked upon the dark bruises that Kenobi had left upon her soft, pale skin...

It was Sith manipulation, he _knew_ it was, and the only way to save her from it was to destroy them. _All of them_ , but Obi-Wan needed to die first. Qui-Gon had pulled him from the brink before, had saved him from allowing his wrathful temper to get the best of him, had kept him from killing the girl he loved in a blind rage when the Dark Side had so, _so_ smoothly whispered to him for revenge, and Anakin knew how good revenge felt. The temptation to give in was severe, especially when he knew, _knew_ that Kenobi would continue to attack him like this, and Padme would be used again and again until the Sith Lord was dead, or she was. Anakin wasn't sure at the time which he'd prefer, but now, with some distance between him, he saw it a bit more clearly. Padme wasn't at fault, and they couldn't be happy, be _truly_ together until Obi-Wan, her old love, her first _real_ love, had been slain. And yet...

There was still the nagging pull in the back of his mind that deep down, she wanted Obi-Wan, craved his touch, yearned for his passions, and the slow, snaking, _poisonous_ thought began deep in his mind, slowly spreading until it was all he could think of. What if, _what if_ , Padmé fell in so easily with Anakin because he reminded her of Obi-Wan Kenobi? It would not be the first time he was told they were similar. Qui-Gon had said it often before they found out his ultimate fate. They shared a love for flying, a talent for mechanics, a skill Anakin had now seen first hand, they both loved royal women, were both passionate, had something of a rebellious streak, a certain defiance within them that, while manifested very differently, let them to be, as Jedi, highly unconventional. The more Anakin tried to turn his thoughts away from such toxic ideas, the more he thought of them, until be began thinking with obsessive ferocity that, _maybe_ , Padmé had been wishing that _he_ were Obi-Wan this whole time, had pretended that it was Kenobi inside her instead of Anakin in the deep of night. _Maybe_ , given the opportunity, she willingly fled into the arms of a lover, and the darkness they sensed in her was nothing more that her dark desires for a man she _knew_ was evil.

Anakin cursed under his breath as he furiously strode through the wide open courtyard of the Lars homestead, examining the depressions in the hard, compacted sand where the _Umbra_ had sat down. He shut his eyes, sighing in relief as he focused on anything but his wife, his rival, the war, and instead imagined the ship that belonged to Obi-Wan Kenobi. With the knowledge of what the ship looked like couple with the depressions in the sand, he could get an idea of the modified ship's size, the magnitude of its size, the elegance of the sleek design, and he could almost imagine the luxury of its interior. It must have been _magnificent_. After he killed Obi-Wan, he'd have to take it. He always wanted a ship like that, and it seemed right to take something the Sith bastard held dear.

He growled when images of Padmé and Kenobi flashed through his mind again, and he reached out to the Force to help him suppress the anger, the suspicion, but it was little help. Padmé's feelings were... _insignificant_. Perhaps she truly wanted her vile lover, or perhaps it was Sith mind control. Maybe it was both, but it didn't matter, it _really_ didn't. Obi-Wan's death would solve _everything_. With no Sith lover, there would be no influence on his pretty wife. With no other option, she would _have_ to choose the Jedi over the dead, _dead_ Sith Lord, and Anakin would do _anything_ for his Padmé. _Anything_. To keep her safe, to keep her _happy_ , her lover, her _tormentor_ needed to die. With his death, they could finally be happy, with nothing else to stand between them. With him dead, the war would end, the Jedi would be safe, and Anakin would be granted the title of Master and a seat beside Qui-Gon on the Jedi High Council, as he should be. He was powerful, stronger than anyone in the Order, stood opposed to the Sith Lord that threatened them all. With that sort of power, he _should_ be leading them.

He hissed, cursed again when he found his thoughts had again turned to Kenobi and Padme. Qui-Gon would tell him to distance himself, to let go of the anger, the thoughts of revenge, for the more he was rattled, the more of a target the woman became. He took a deep breath, and this time, felt his raging pulse slow, his ragged breathing calm, and slowly, _slowly_ , he got a grasp on his emotions. For now, he would have to trust Padmé. The Sith were controlling her. That was all this was. He'd save her. _He'd save her._

"Anakin?" The voice of his brother brought Skywalker out of himself, and Anakin gently smiled at the man, concern on his face. "Are you alright?"

He nodded, ignoring the comlink on his wrist that began to beep again. "I'm fine. Listen," he said slowly, measuring on if he should tell Owen what he housed here, and decided that arming him with knowledge couldn't be wrong. After all, Kenobi may come here again with worse intent. "The man, the... _Jedi_ you took in. He's _very_ dangerous."

"So are you, Anakin, you're-"

"He's not like me," Skywalker said swiftly. "His name is Obi-Wan Kenobi, and he's...a rogue Jedi. He left the Order a long time ago, and now he's fighting against us." Anakin clenched his jsw, his mechanical hand balling into a fist. "He's fighting against _me_. He cut off my hand," he said, removing the glove to show his brother the golden colored mechanics of his artificial limb, and the farmer gasped softly. Anakin hadn't been here since the war began, Owen hadn't known. "And now, he's...attacking me personally. That's what being here was about. I don't know why he did the things he did here, but...he's trying to turn my family against me."

Owen bit his lip and nodded. "Nobody could turn me against you, Anakin. You're a good man."

"...and if I wasn't?" A sudden sense of dread filled Anakin, and he wasn't sure himself if he _was_ good. But Owen just laughed, a warm smile on his face.

"My brother will _always_ be a good man. If this..." He took a deep breath and shook his head. "I'll tell you if this...Obi-Wan?" Anakin nodded. "If this Obi-Wan comes around again, you'll be the first person I tell." He laid his hand on Anakin's shoulder. "He stayed in the spare room you used to stay in. I...don't think he slept. At all." He shrugged. "Maybe you can find something there."

With a nod, Anakin took long, purposeful strides to the spare room, the room he always used to use, and he was hit by a wave of nostalgia when he stepped inside, followed by nearly unbearable sadness. His mother used to sit there, _just there_ , on the edge of the bed and talk about his hopes and his fears, what he wanted, his training, the Force, his Master, _everything_. He couldn't be here again, not ever, not in this room. Steeling himself, he entered, closing the door behind him for privacy, his sharp eyes looking around for something, _anything_ , that indicated the Sith Lord had been there, but the room was exactly as he remembered it. With a sigh of frustration, he turned to leave the room and froze when he looked upon the back of the door. There, hung at exactly his eye level, was a note scrawled in an elegant hand, the edges of the paper rolled in slightly, off-white from exposure to Tatooine's blazing twin suns. He drew closer slowly, stepping cautiously as if the room were suddenly filled with traps, until he stood before the note, reached out and grabbed it in trembling hands, his eyes drifting over the words over and over again as if he did not understand.

_Hello Anakin_ , it said. _I never knew my family, so it was a pleasure getting to know yours. I think I'll keep them. See you soon - Obi-Wan Kenobi_.

The incessant beeping of his comlink eventually drew him out of his focused, hateful rage, the Jedi seeing nothing but the words on the page blazing in front of him, even when he closed his eyes, imprinted deeply upon his retinas. " _What_?" he answered with a furious snap, pressing the button so hard that the valuable device threatened to break under his hard grasp.

"General," Tarkin said swiftly, almost excitedly, ignoring the rage in his commander. " _Negotiator_ and _Liberator_ have been spotted in the space above Onderon." Anakin could almost _feel_ the man's superior smirk, even without seeing him. "Both Kenobi and Vos are there."

"That's Inner Rim, Tarkin, that's _very_ close to home!" Anakin said excitedly, his voice trembling with anticipation and rage. "Call in everyone, Tarkin, I'll be up in a moment. Let's go hunting."


	99. The Shifting Tide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday the 13th! This chapter actually went through a serious rewrite. The first one was pretty dark, but it sort of backed me into a corner, but this one...hoo boy, I let this thing run with me, and I really like where it went. It opens up SO much for us to play with. Enjoy, my lovelies!

Obi-Wan put his lips to the bottle and threw his head back, swiftly drinking the liquor in large, thirsty gulps, the sweet liquid burning as it went down, his eyes locked with Quinlan Vos, who did the same with his own bottle. They were already suitably drunk, this being the third bottle they had consumed in this fashion, but this one was the one that had counted. Vos had won the first one, Kenobi had won the second, and this one would decide the victor, as had been their tradition for the past month when they jumped to the safety of hyperspace from the world they were assaulting. It had become something of a pattern, starting with the assault on Onderon, Quinlan's idea after Kenobi had returned from seeing his Master not only distressingly close to death, but shaking and laughing in the throes of madness. _Clearly_ , the man needed to unwind, and the best way to do that, in Vos' estimation, was to wreck havoc on the galaxy with his best friend at his side. It was working.

Vos groaned loudly around the bottle when he heard Kenobi's clatter to the ground, the Sith Lord smirking and swaying from where he was seated before the forward viewport on the bridge of the _Negotiator_. The blue and white of hyperspace filled the view as they made their jump from Antamount, a Republic held world in the Outer Rim of little significance that they had been attacking until Skywalker's fleet had appeared. Skywalker _always_ found them, and quickly, never taking more than a day to follow the chaos of the Sith Lord's assaults. Kenobi never stayed, always making the jump when the Jedi appeared, making the jump _anyway_ when Anakin broke his established pattern. Any more than a day screamed of a trap, an ambush, and with the Jedi spread thin, all of them each engaged in their own battles, with the brutally slow mobilization of a Republic bogged down in procedure, it _always_ took more than a day to bring significant numbers to Skywalker's aid. By the time they arrived in force, Kenobi was already gone. Staying wasn't the point. The point, of course, was to make Skywalker chase him, and make him angry and frustrated when he couldn't catch him.

"I win again," Kenobi drawled as Vos finished his bottle, the Sith Lord laughing when the Kiffar laid back on the floor and covered his eyes. Kenobi may have been able to drink faster, but he was also _significantly_ more drunk.

"You're cheating," Quinlan slurred. "You're using the Force to _purge_ the effects." They both did it, of course, but that was neither here nor there. They always purged afterwards anyway. They needed to be clear when they arrived at their next destination, and they always were, gleefully leaping into the _Umbra_ when they arrived to deliver a more personal assault on their selected planets.

"You're _jealous_ ," Kenobi said, attempting to stand, but failing horribly and opting instead to lay on the ground next to the Kiffar. He chuckled slowly when he felt the flames of madness lapping at his brain, not taking over, but making its presence known. It had been the state of things since Quinlan had gotten him stable. The madness had become something of a constant companion as he fixated on Skywalker, a persistent voice in his mind that urged him toward destruction, toward murder of his Master, toward jealousy, toward possession, toward paranoia. He _always_ felt it. Padmé had soothed it before, but...he was trying not to think of that, not now.

"I'm not jealous," Vos drawled. "This is just so much better done on Mustafar, there war _women_ there..." He pointed his thumb in the air in Cody's direction where the clone stood close to Boba Fett, the two examining a map of the galaxy projected upon the wall. "All I have here is _Cody_ , and he's just _not_ very good."

"Better than you, Vos," Cody droned, clearly uninterested, and the Kiffar began laughing.

"Cody," Kenobi said softly. "Where's our next destination?"

With a grin, Boba rushed to a table and picked up a handful of darts and rushed back to Cody's side, took aim, and threw it at the wall, the section sticking easity to the hard metallic surface. "Colonies," Cody said, and Boba threw another dart when the map zoomed in on the Colony Region. "Tapani Sector," the clone said when the dart landed on the area and again zoomed in.

Kenobi whistled. "That's a good sector, lots of activity, _very_ big."

"Reenforcements will be at hand, we won't be there long," Vos whispered. "Which _sucks_ , I want to blow something up..."

"We all want to blow something up," Kenobi said, closing his eyes and slowly beginning to sink into the Force. "But this isn't about us, it's about making Skywalker chase us."

"And partying hard when we escape..." Vos drawled, slurring his words a bit, and Obi-Wan nodded.

"That too...system, Cody?"

Boba threw another dart. "Soterios system, sir."

"Soterios..." Obi-Wan repeated, his voice distant as he drifted off into the Force. "Maybe you'll get what you want, Vos, there are almost seven billion people on that planet...we can cause a good deal of damage before Skywalker arrives..."

"A few hours, yes, but they're a major source of the holonet, word will got to Coruscant quickly. Have you calculated the new jump yet, Cody?"

The clone rolled his eyes. "You're such a nag, Vos. It's already done. Dropping out of hyperspace now, and we'll make the next jump as soon as we're out." Vos grinned at Kenobi, but the Sith Lord was already gone, the man's eyes closed, his breathing imperceptible, his heartbeat slowed significantly, his consciousness lost in the Force. Quinlan sighed, closed his eyes, and purged his body of the effects of the alcohol as he felt the dreadnaught come out of hyperspace. Selecting their targets at random made catching them by predicting their movements an impossibility, something Obi-Wan had decided on when they began their gleefully destructive romp through the galaxy. He had learned from before, the brush with Tarkin's trap far too close for the cautious Sith Lord, and now, his goal was focused much less on his own revenge and more on simply driving Anakin Skywalker and Wilhuff Tarkin into a frenzy.

Leaving them alone was no longer an option, and neither was tracking them. They were causing too much chaos, too much damage, taking too many lives to be ignored, but hunting them proved to be a fruitless endeavor. They appeared suddenly, randomly, caused chaos and destruction in their wake, and then they were gone, just as soon as Skywalker's ships arrived, jumping too quickly for the Republic vessels to get a lock on their jump coordinates, and even when they did, the Sith Lord's ships always dropped out of hyperspace before reaching their destination, and then jumping again to their new target a moment later. And through it all, Kenobi and Vos had been _partying_ , drinking themselves into a stupor while in transit, only to be ready for a renewed assault a few hours later, where they gleefully tore through space and spread panic and chaos to large planets and small, important space stations and insignificant moons. From the Inner Rim to the boarders of the New Mandalorian Empire, even venturing into Separatist Space when the darts demanded it, using the Star Destroyer _Liberator_ to make Confederate worlds _believe_ that the Republic was attacking, which, predictably, attracted the attention of Skywalker, who had been relentlessly chasing the Sith Lord since this pleasure tour began.

He was angry, clearly, chasing them with the determination and single-minded focus of a man obsessed, refusing to give up, break off the chase or relent, having had Kenobi out of his sights previously for nearly a month. During that time, Skywalker had grown so desperate at drawing the Sith Lord out he had even made the mistake of attacking Mustafar, a disastrous assault that ended in a humiliating retreat for the young general. Fear of losing Kenobi again drew him out now, his pursuit vicious and relentless, though the Sith never stayed around long enough to engage him. He didn't need to. Anakin would _always_ be where Kenobi appeared, and after a month of tireless chasing, Skywalker was clearly beginnign to show his anger, lashing out at Separatist worlds where he was called to do battle on, and in his fury, he was beginning to make mistakes. Small ones, yes, but as they continued, they would grow larger, and when the time was right, Kenobi would engage.

The shop hitched as they entered hyperspace once again, and Vos sighed, watching over his friend and taking the Sith lightsaber in his hand, looking at it and slowly feeling the recent memory of the weapon, as he always did to get an idea of Kenobi's mental state. It wasn't good, the Kiffar immediately struck with the feelings of grief, resignation, and anger, the fires of insanity clear and defined, and Vos couldn't help but laugh manically when he felt his own sanity temporarily suffer under the assault of Kenobi's madness. He was more stable before he had left to see Darth Sidious, and when he was returned, the _Umbra_ carrying him on autopilot back to Mustafar, Obi-Wan had barely been alive. He _wouldn't_ have died, of course. This was a lesson, a test, perhaps, that came in the form of extensive injuries to his thin frame, spidering red welts left by Force lightning, long, dark, fresh burns caused by a lightsaber turned down to just below fatal, just below maiming, but _far_ above torturous, deeper, blacker holes and burns left by the same saber at full power marred his entire body.

He had been absent for a week, and it had been clear to Vos that the week for Kenobi had been nothing but torture. It was no wonder he was insane. So when Kenobi was returned home to Mustafar, Quinlan set to discovering what had happened to his freind. The question was _why_ Sidious had seen fit to torture his apprentice, and for that, Quinlan took the lightsabers from Obi-Wan's belt, drew deep of the Force, and dove into the history of the weapons he knew must have been used. He got far more than he bargained for when he touched them, the flashes of thousands of years of a bloody history on the blade of the darksaber, far too much, far too overwhelming for Quinlan to read anything of use from the blade, but Kenobi's standard red saber was different. He got the quick flashes of memory from the kyber crystal's previous owner, all rage and hate and death that Quinlan breathed deep of and felt his own pulse race with anger, and then, the images slowed, still faded, but visible. Obi-Wan's history with the weapon wasn't extensive. He used his lightsaber infrequently, but in the blade, he saw the blurred images from his days before his fall, his training, his fight with Qui-Gon and Anakin on Geonosis, against Mace Windu and Depa Billaba on Haruun Kal, of all the hundreds of battles he had taken part in, so many more than the Jedi knew. As the memories grew more recent, the visions became more clear until the warm bedroom of Mustafar seemed to fade away, his surroundings changing to a cold, dark room, a shrine of sorts, lit red by the lightsabers in the hands of the Sith.

Obi-Wan was furious, the gold eyes glowing brighter than the burning plasma in his hand, the blade pointed accusingly at a dark, hooded figure. Quinlan looked at him and immediately felt hazy, almost nauseous, and he was compelled to look away. _That_ , he understood, was Darth Sidious, Master of the Sith, and even now, so close to him in the vivid memory, he still couldn't see him. The room was thick with the Dark Side, not the calm, inky darkness that he expected, but a raging blaze, a tempest of hate and anger and suspicion clashing against the cold walls of Sidious.

" _What is the point of this?!_ " Kenobi snarled, his saber clutched tightly in his shaking hand, his mind alight with fires that burned calm and sense away, and Quinlan felt almost giddy at the rush of warm, consuming flames he felt as well. Kenobi's insanity was _real_ , almost tangibly so, and he felt it now, the furry of consuming madness creeping into the Kiffar as he gazed closer, and he found he had to pull away from the blaze, lest he be burned as well. " _Why else would you have manipulated her like this if not to orchestrate the fall of Anakin Skywalker! Why would you want him when you have me! We can't both be your apprentice, we stand opposed in the tides of the Force itself!"_

" _Calm yourself, Lumis_ ," Sidious hissed, the red saber in his hand casting sinister red shadows upon his face that seemed to flicker and dance, and Quinlan found he couldn't look at them for long without feeling ill. " _You are Sith. You do not bend to the Force, the Force bends to you. Its tides, its plans, are nothing. And furthermore, you don't know what you felt."_

" _I felt you!"_ Kenobi shouted. " _I felt your influence, your hand within her mind, and I saw Skywalker there! Why would I see him if your hold didn't have designs on him!"_

" _You are insane, Lumis, and you can't trust your senses."_

" _I am insane because of you!"_ Obi-Wan snarled, rushing forward and striking at the Sith Master with his blade, but it was casually, _easily_ blocked. " _You wanted Mandalore to fall! You allowed Satine to die, you wanted this so you could take everything from me!"_ Sidious hissed, deep and disapproving as he gracefully spun out of the way and slashed across Kenobi's back, the raging fury of new pain making the apprentice fight stronger, harder, faster, but it was also wild and uncontrolled. He was dangerous, yes, unpredictable and so, so strong, but the Sith Master seemed unconcerned. Consuming madness was no danger to him.

" _And why should I want that?_ " Sidious asked in a calm, measured voice, almost offended at the notion, and Quinlan watched Kenobi's eyes focus on his Master, his gaze unfocused, but he was listening, confused, suddenly uncertain in himself as Sidious spoke. " _Satine was an asset, and your progeny was remarkable. His loss is a detriment not just to you, but to the Sith. He was to be mine_." A deep, disgusted frown came over Sidious' face. " _Even if you thought not to allow it. You would have failed to kill me then, just as you will fail to kill me now, my apprentice_."

With an outraged howl, Kenobi threw himself against the Master again, as wild and ferocious as ever, but it was far from enough. Sidious was ready for it all, and as his blade spun around Obi-Wan's and brought it down, the Master's hand shot out and struck the insane man with lightning. Kenobi stood against it for a moment before he dropped to his knees, his jaw clenched against the pain, but making not a sound, the blazing blade still clutched in his hand. The fight was hardly a fair one. Sidious was balanced, centered, calm and unconcerned, water to the blazing inferno that was Darth Lumis. Madness raged in him like a sickness, _a weakness_ , and Sidious preyed on this, counting on it not just to hinder his furious apprentice, but to strengthen himself.

" _As for Padmé_ ," he drawled slowly, " _she has been a nuisance to me since the beginning_. _My manipulation of her mind has been to the end of discrediting her and damaging her position in the Senate, and with your sudden...fascination, it gives us a chance to not only end her career, but force her to serve the Sith as not only a vessel for your child, but as a way to weaken Anakin Skywalker_." Sidious smiled, a sinister light coming from his yellow eyes in the shadows of his hood. " _That is your intent, is it not, Lumis_?"

"... _yes, Master_ ," Kenobi gasped, his eyes closed as he shook his head in an attempt to clear it, and Quinlan found confusion and doubt within him, the soft, smooth words of the Master caressing the fevered mind into an uneasy trust. He had to trust Sidious. He was insane, and he knew it, and he _couldn't_ trust himself. Sidious chuckled softly.

" _See? A product of your madness, Lumis. Rule yourself, and you will no longer have doubt about my intentions. You are Sith, Lumis. What use have I of a newly fallen Jedi when I have you?_ " Sidious grinned maliciously when he slid his hands into the apprentice's hair, and the man groaned and leaned back against his Master, yearning for something, _anything_ to ease the flames that burned within him. " _He would be new to the Dark Side, and regardless of his...prodigal talent, his power would be unfamiliar. He would be unbalanced, unfocused, and you would kill him. You will kill him, will you not, Lumis?"_

" _...yes, Master."_

" _And I can't get rid of you, my apprentice_ ," Sidious said coldly, his hand wrapping tighter into the man's hair, and Kenobi gasped in pain. " _It had been so difficult to notice before, but now, after so much time, it's clear to me what has happened_." He snarled and yanked Obi-Wan's head back. " _You, apprentice, haven't aged a day since I met you_ ," he growled dangerously. " _How_."

Kenobi didn't answer, only began to scream when he felt Sidious' intrusion into his mind, but the Sith Lord hissed in pain and recoiled quickly, burned by the inferno that consumed his apprentice. With a snarl of fury, Sidious aimed another barrage of lightning at the man on the ground, his lightsaber humming to life in his hand once again as he advanced on his writhing apprentice. Quinlan knew what came next. He didn't need to feel his friend's torture to know it happened. He opened his eyes and inhaled deeply, returning to the room on Mustafar, the vision fading from his eyes, but it took some time for the pain to leave his body, for the screams to stop ringing in his ears. The Sith Master _could_ be killed, but not like that. Not when madness swept like an illness through his mind. He needed to return to his old self, have a moment to forget about the pain, _all_ _of it_ , and begin causing it instead.

Which is why he had plotted to attack Onderon, and Kenobi, in his madness, gleefully agreed, only to be sent into a screaming fit when Quinlan ordered that they flee at the first sight of Skywalker. The Sith Lord had calmed slowly, the clone and the Kiffar plying him with alcohol during their jump, and by the time they had arrived at the next target, Kenobi had at least a sliver of control returned to him, quietly agreeing that the hit and run plan was a good one. Which led them to now, a month into being on the run, and the two fallen Jedi, brothers in the Dark Side, were having the time of their lives.

Quinlan ran a hand through his friend's sandy blond hair as he returned the lightsaber to his belt. They had hit something of a balance between sanity and madness, but it wasn't enough. The insanity needed to be beaten back, as it was before his latest meeting with Sidious. Madness made him unpredictable and dangerous, but it was a far cry from the focused, devastating might that he had been before Satine's death. Quinlan knew that he could regain that, and with it, perhaps the desire to murder the Sith Master would return, not as a product of his insanity, but as a carefully planned, masterfully executed event. It could be done, but not by him. Kenobi kept a mistress in Coruscant, from what Vos understood, and the last he had seen her, he had returned with his mind soothed. Kenobi didn't actually _need_ to be on the ship while they were chased by Skywalker. Perhaps it was time to see her again.

* * *

The Force was calm, cool, devoid of the fires that burned in his mind, free of all the doubts, the worries, the anxieties that raged inside him. Insanity, he found, had disrupted his connection with the Force, not _weakened_ it, but changed it, made it turbulent and chaotic, made it so difficult to see clearly, made it impossible to trust his own feelings. The waters of the Force weren't mirror still, a reflecting glass that clearly showed him exactly what he needed to see, but it was close enough, clear enough, still enough to leave no questions as to the visions he saw.

In his week with Sidious, he had been tortured far worse than he had ever been, and he was ashamed for his actions, humiliated by his lack of his control, his suspicions, his _paranoia_ brought on by his madness, but most of all, he was disgusted in himself for showing Sidious such weakness. He promised himself, promised his Master that he would rid himself of this illness of the mind, but he had no idea how to do it. Quinlan had helped, yes, but it wasn't enough. Like all things, he would turn to the Force for his salvation. If he wanted to prove his worth to Sidious, show he was strong enough to succeed him, strong enough to eventually kill him, as all Sith Apprentices must, lest they die, than this thing must be done. Or else, he really was in danger of Skywalker replacing him.

He sat on the shores of the waters, his feet dipped in the icy waters and breathed deeply when he felt darkness wrap around him, the heat of the fires cooling, the raging flames doused by the chill of ice. He was... _content_ , free of madness here, free of grief, free of pain, his fingers entwined with the small, delicate, cold ones that belonged to Satine, their child, strong, blond, eyes of ice blue that bespoke of an intelligence far beyond his five years sitting snugly between them. The pain was always worse when he returned from this place, but at least here, he was sane. Even if it wasn't real, even if he knew it to be a projection of his desires, even if neither of his ghosts could ever speak to him, ever give him any of the comfort he actually needed and actually craved, it was enough, at least for a moment, to be with his Satine and his son again.

He stood to lose himself here, he knew. There was always the very real possibility that he would never return, that the Dark Side would grip his body while his consciousness was out of it and he would never find his way back. There were a few time he thought it preferable to stay, that the calm and peace, no matter how pretend it was, was better than the grief he felt daily, better than the insanity that tore through him, made only worse by the anxiety he felt at his Master's interest in Anakin Skywalker, though...that may have been a fabrication of his paranoia. Sidious had said so, which is something Sidious _would_ say if he were lying, but...well, he couldn't trust his senses. He was sane enough to know he was too insane to trust most things he felt. Which...sounded like madness in and of itself.

The surface of the waters showed him visions of Padme's children, the girl and the boy reaching out to the holocrons in his hands, and Kenobi pulled his son closer to him almost apologetically. He hadn't cared before, but now, the idea of Padme birthing these children, _his_ , children, made him almost nauseous. The thought of Padme as his mistress made him almost _guilty_ , not because of what had happened to Anakin because f it, but because it felt like betrayal of the woman whose hand he now held. He looked at her, the woman's face pale and still, full of life only because he couldn't bear to see her lifeless. She didn't care, of course. She was dead, but it hurt him all the same. The waters rippled at his distress, clearing the visions of the children from the waters and replacing them with the old, familiar ones he had seen thousands of times before. At least these were calming, soothing, and he leaned his head against the thin shoulder of the ghost beside him as he watched the visions cycle through.

"This is an improvement." Obi-Wan didn't move, didn't even flinch when the voice disturbed his peace. It was almost as if he expected it, which, he supposed, he did. The Force was shifting, changing, as if reacting to something that had yet to be seen, had yet to happen, and with it came Qui-Gon Jinn. "You couldn't look at her before. You couldn't even _think_ about her before."

"Is nothing sacred to you, Qui-Gon?" Kenobi growled, and the Jedi simply chuckled.

"Nothing is sacred to you. Why should I be held to a different standard?"

"Because you're a _Jedi_ ," Obi-Wan said, rolling his eyes. "I'm Sith, I take what I want."

"Including other people's wives," Qui-Gon said coldly. " _Without_ their consent?"

This time, the Sith Lord rose, reeling on the Jedi and snarling, but the Master was unimpressed, his arms crossed casually over his chest. "I didn't _rape_ Padmé, Qui-Gon, she _always_ wanted me! And she wanted me when I _finally_ took her!"

"She was manipulated by a Sith Lord, Obi-Wan!" Qui-Gon said, his voice low and dangerous like Kenobi had never heard before, and he turned his head quickly as he felt the images of Satine and his son disappear before the fury of the Jedi. Kenobi looked back at him, the waters beginning to ripple with choppy waves that indicated an oncoming storm as the Sith's temper flared.

" _Yes_ , she was, by my Master, what of it!"

"Going to her with that knowledge makes you aware of her inability to consent to your seduction!"

" _I didn't know_!" Kenobi snarled, coming to stand before the towering Master. "I didn't know Sidious had manipulated her, not until after! I went there to _seduce_ her, Qui-Gon, because I knew I could because she has _always_ liked me. Knowing that my Master had a hand in her makes it..." He growled deeply, looking away from the Jedi. "... _wrong_." Qui-Gon didn't understand, so he stayed silent, but he could feel the conflict in the man, feel his doubts and suspicions through the chill that ran through the Force. "Not _morally_ wrong," he scoffed. "Don't think I'm getting sentimental. If someone has the power to take what they want, they _should_. But I never needed power to take Padmé. I wouldn't have done it if I knew."

Understanding dawned on the Jedi, and he gasped softly. "You think you're being played as well." Obi-Wan didn't meet his gaze, but he nodded slowly.

"My Master has no use for Padmé Amidala, no care about who she goes to bed with, so his influence within her speaks of something else. I... _wanted_ her not only because she is Skywalker's lover, and I _will_ take everything from him, but she's...in some ways so like my Satine. If I cared nothing for her, I'd just kill her, it would be the fastest way to ruin Skywalker."

"Why?" Qui-Gon asked softly. "Why are you doing this?"

"We stand as opposites, do we not?" Kenobi asked with a cruel smirk on his lips. "If I wasn't dealing with your former student, than I would have been there to save Satine. If I can't have my lover, _why should he_."

Qui-Gon tapped his finger against his arm, his dark blue eyes running over his lost student and measuring his concerns against what he was saying. "You think your Master has plans for Anakin," the Jedi concluded, and Kenobi nodded, biting his lip.

"I...can't trust my senses, Qui-Gon, I'm insane," he muttered. "It may just be paranoia, it may just be..." He growled in his frustration, grasping his head between his hands. "I don't know, Qui-Gon. I thought...b-but he-" He took a deep breath to calm his nerves. "I wanted to ruin Anakin before I killed him, but his death was _always_ my plan, and if he fell in the process, if his Jedi values couldn't hold him through the worst things in his life than _so what_. He was going to die anyway, but now...now, my Master may be looking to train him, and Padmé is just a part of his plans, and I...played right into my own replacement."

Qui-Gon was silent for a long while, looking sympathetically at the student he failed. "It's like what I did to you."

"No, it isn't like it, it _is_ what you did to me," Kenobi growled. "A long time ago, I told him I wouldn't never stand a betrayal like that again, and if he means to betray me..." He turned back toward the choppy waters, taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm them, the shores beginning to glow with the embers of his pervasive madness, but slowly, the waters calmed back to its calm, still, reflective surface, though the pebbles of shore glowed with heat, threatening to set fire to anything that touched it. "I can't see it," he said softly. "Not yet, not until I have purged myself of this... _corruption_ , but when I do..."

Qui-Gon took a deep breath, certain in his course, the Force itself showing him the way to go, and he stood beside the Sith, a hand on his shoulder, and he could feel their bond deepen, the flow of energy between them grow wider and stronger. The Force led him here, and Qui-Gon Jinn would follow the will of the Force. "I can help you, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said softly. "But you must not do anything to contribute to Anakin's fall. If that's what your Master intends, then pushing him toward darkness is securing your betrayal."

"...you may be right in that," Obi-Wan said softly. "But I'm still going to kill him."

"Fine," Qui-Gon said quickly. "I can't stop you from that. Go on, act like children, try to kill each other. But _don't_ play the pawn to your Master."

"It may be too late," Obi-Wan said softly.

"You're right, it may be. But it's not yet, not while I live."

Kenobi nodded. "I may have broken my Master's influence on her last time I was with Padmé. On that front, your student may be safe, but I _did_ swear to protect her."

"Last time..." Qui-Gon smacked his hand against his forehead. " _Last time_ , Obi-Wan! You've already been back to see her?!"

"Just once! I've been terribly busy." He frowned at the Jedi's frustration and leaned over, placing his finger in the water and watching the ripples extend outward until images began to appear. They were hazy at first, Qui-Gon's eyes narrowed as he held his breath and watched the waters, looking intently as one of the visions sharpened, becoming crisp and clear and he saw... _himself_ , standing on the brink, the Force howling around him. Suddenly, his image disappeared, and the Dark Side opened up, howling and furious and consuming. A wave tore through the still pond, ripping the vision apart, and Qui-Gon found himself breathing heavily.

"I've never had your gift of foresight..." the Jedi mumbled, and Kenobi nodded beside him.

"I see it all the time. I have yet to truly understand its meaning, but I feel it may have something to do with Skywalker."

"...you may be right."

Kenobi took a deep breath. "I...promised to take care of Padmé, Qui-Gon, and I will. I failed one woman once, and I won't fail her."

"...she isn't Satine, Obi-Wan."

" _No_ , I _failed_ Satine!" he shouted, the waters rising in dangerous waves as the shore erupted into flames that burned on the water as well. "I failed her, and now she's dead, and it's because of me!"

"...you need to forgive yourself, Obi-Wan," the Jedi said softly. "She would have."

He started to answer, raging and furious as the shore dropped away, and a moment later, he felt himself slam against the cold, hard steel of the bridge of the _Negotiator_ , his breathing fast, his pulse racing, his eyes wide and the effects of the alcohol gone from his system. The source of the pull back to reality chimed again, and he fished the holodisc out of his pocket and answered, the cowled form of Darth Sidious standing before him. He felt anger, cold and hard within him, his conversation with Qui-Gon fresh in his mind. He wasn't sure what to believe, but he did know this. He was going to kill Darth Sidious. It may not be now, _could_ not be now, not when his Master expected it, not when he was diminished by his mental state, but he would, and it would be soon. This was his role as the apprentice to the Sith, and if Sidious feared his death so much that he sought to replace his powerful apprentice in favor of another that needed training, then he was no Sith at all.

"Lumis," Sidious said softly. "I have need of you. How is your mental state?"

"Better, Master," Kenobi said, inclining his head in respect. "Your wish is my command. What do you need of me?" In light of his recent torture, he could play the supplicant apprentice for a time longer. He had been taught patience, and when Obi-Wan knew for certain, he would strike.

"You have done well this past month," he said, smooth and pleased. "Your assault on the galaxy has the Jedi in chaos, spread thin in an attempt to reel you in."

"Thank you, Master."

"I have plans, and the time is right to execute them. General Grievous and the _Invisible Hand_ are on the way. I need you on Coruscant. _Now_. Keep hidden until I summon you." The hologram faded, and Quinlan chuckled softly behind him.

"Well," the Kiffar drawled. "I was going to suggest that you go see your mistress. Now you have an excuse."

Obi-Wan nodded slowly. "It seems that the Force keeps pulling me to Padmé Amidala. I can't deny its call." The tides of the Force were changing, shifting, and Obi-Wan felt the favor of the Force was shifting away from Darth Sidious. He'd be a fool not to follow it. As his Master always said, the Force could bite back. Perhaps it was doing so now because of Anakin Skywalker.

* * *

It was... _unthinkable_. Obi-Wan stood in Padmé's apartment, and while the woman had let him in, she was... _cautious_ , uncertain, so different from how she had been before. Gone was the brashness, the surprise to find him there, the initial swell of outrage, but also gone was the pull of lust that sat within her. There was affection, yes, but it was tempered with worry and fear and concern. As he thought, the influence of Sidious within her had been broken, and it left her with all the emotions she previously had, but tempered with her restraint and her inhibitions. And still...

He could barely feel the twins within her now, the pulse of their lives weak and barely noticeable, concealed by the Force itself, and _that_ was what he had felt drawing him to her side. The swell of protection he felt may not have been just for her, but for the children that grew within her, protected by the Force and now protected by him as well. It was...the will of the Force, and it must be followed. No matter the cost, no matter how little he understood, no matter how unthinkable this had all been to him. The Force had always been with him, and it would continue to be so now if he just followed its will. In time, he knew, it would turn him toward's Sidious, the fury of the Force brought to bear because his Master became too greedy, reached too far in his ambitions, thought to control the Force where none could. It still flowed toward darkness, but it had... _shifted_. He had yet to fully understand, but he would.

The twins were _not_ his. They lacked the strain of darkness, the deep, pervasive pulse that would have sounded from his own child, and even if he was mistaken about what influence his child would exert upon the Force, he _felt_ they were not his. These children belonged to Anakin Skywalker, which meant that her Jedi husband had been within her just before he had, since the conception had lined up with _his_ own affair with his mistress. Her fear was understandable, her acceptance of him being there made so much sense, her resignation as she let him in becoming clear. She knew she was pregnant, but she _didn't_ know who the father was. Her world was coming apart, and she was coming to terms with how to handle it.

He understood less, but it made things... _easier_. His child was irreplaceable to him, a wound that sat deep and bleeding within him that would never heal, and making a new one did nothing but wound him further, the feeling that he may be replacing his beloved son driving him to the brink of madness. That these were _Skywalker's_ children changed everything, and while he had promised that he would keep from pressing Skywalker further into darkness, soon enough, he would deprive Padmé of her husband, these children of their father, and _someone_ had to remain to raise these powerful children. After all, Skywalker was a vergence, like himself, and the children were guaranteed to be powerful, just as his own son had been, and with the Force itself protecting them, it seemed that there was something planned for the twins.

That had been said of his own son, and Maul had taken the Force into his hands and ripped it apart, depriving the child of the destiny laid out before him, and Obi-Wan knew that this couldn't be allowed to happen again. The Force had drawn him here for a reason, and Sidious couldn't be allowed to have a hand in them, had to be kept far, far away. Perhaps Skywalker could defend his children from the Sith Master, but if that was the case than why would the Force bring _Kenobi_ here? He felt the Force shifting and changing, but to what end? Was this why? Was Skywalker's fall somehow inevitable, just as his own fall had been? It couldn't be, of course. His own visions had made clear that Qui-Gon stood between the galaxy and a fate that must be avoided at all costs, and the old Jedi Master simply _couldn't_ die. The Force was protecting him, as it was protecting Padmé's twins. And if Skywalker _were_ to fall...where would that leave him? They stood as opposites, not fellow travelers on the same path, and Obi-Wan was much too far down the road of darkness to return, so...

"Have you seen Anakin?" Padmé asked softly, her hands folded tightly before her, her eyes cast toward the ground.

"Have you not heard from him?" he asked softly, and the woman shook her head, unshed tears coming to her eyes.

"Not since he left to hunt you," she whispered. "But that was almost two months ago. I haven't heard from him, and I haven't heard from _you_ either," she growled, her eyes narrowing in anger and the movement making the watery film over her eyes break and run down her cheek. "What's the point of having a lover if he _isn't around_. This was one of the reasons I had you to begin with, I was _lonely_!"

"I know," Kenobi said quietly, slowly taking a step closer to her, but she drew back, her shoulders trembling in rage. "I'm sorry. It may please you to know that Skywalker has been chasing me, so he's safe."

"That _doesn't_ please me!" she snapped. "My husband and my lover fighting to the death _isn't pleasing_."

Kenobi winced. He hadn't thought about it that way. "Then would it please you to know that we _haven't_ been engaging?" Padmé was silent for a moment, biting down on her lip as she looked away from the Sith Lord and slowly nodded.

"I just want this war to end," she said softly, gripping the cloth of her dress between her hands. "Anakin would be home, we could be together, we..." She shook her head, her breath coming in shaking, unsteady gasps as she fought back the tide of emotion that flowed through her. "I'm pregnant," she whispered, so quiet, so breathy that Kenobi could barely hear her.

"...I know." She looked at him swiftly with large, wet eyes, confused and hopeful and so many things, and Obi-Wan couldn't look at her. "I felt it in the Force," he quietly explained. "I've always been sensitive to these things."

"Do you think Anakin-"

"I don't know if he sensed it. If he did, though, I feel he may have run home to you." Padmé's lip quivered and she gripped the cloth between her hands tighter as she shook her head. She hadn't heard from Anakin. He didn't know.

"If he didn't feel it, he-" She stopped, her voice suddenly raw, and with a surge of emotions and nowhere for them to go, she threw her arms around Obi-Wan, gripping him like he was a lifeline, like he too would disappear if she didn't hold on. Slowly, hesitantly, she felt Kenobi's hand lightly brush her back, her long curly hair, and he gently embraced her. She didn't feel the want and the desire and the longing that she so usually felt with him, she just felt... _comfort_ , warm and encompassing, and it was exactly what she needed to feel safe. This issue was beyond her, and if Obi-Wan could help...

"I don't know who the father is," she whimpered, her grasp around the man tightening. "And if _you_ felt it, then..." She sucked in a sharp breath and fought back the tears once again. "Obi-Wan, if it's yours, I don't know what I'm going to do! Anakin will never forgive me. _I_ can't forgive _myself_! They said I was influenced, but I have _always_ wanted you, I..."

"Padmé."

"He's going to leave me!" she said, becoming increasingly frantic as she fretted in her lover's grasp. "And I _certainly_ can't be with you, not in the position I have! I'm going to be a _single mother_!"

Kenobi laughed, kissed the top of the woman's head and held her at arm's length. "I don't think Skywalker will abandon you."

"You didn't see him, Obi-Wan, he was _so angry_! He wouldn't stand with me to raise another man's child!"

The Sith Lord shrugged. "Your child isn't mine." Padmé stared at him for a long while, her jaw slack, her face blank as she processed his words, and slowly, tears once again fell from her eyes, her hands coming up to her mouth to cover the bright smile upon her lips.

"How do you know?" she asked cautiously, but she couldn't keep the excitement from her voice.

"I have the Force, Padmé," Obi-Wan said, wiggling his fingers in her direction. "I felt it when you conceived, of course I can feel if the child came from me. I've...done this before."

He smile suddenly dropped, replaced instead with sympathy and concern, and Obi-Wan had to look away. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, drawing near him again and laying a comforting hand on his chest. "I forgot, I...didn't mean to bring it up..." Kenobi waved the notion away, and the smile returned to the girl's lips, though she tried to repress it. "This is wonderful, she said, laughter and joy lining her voice and making her sound melodic. And suddenly, the smile faded to be replaced with something darker, something that went beyond her previous fears and concerns. "...this could be bad for Anakin's career. The Jedi don't allow relationships like this, could he even _be_ a father? Would he even believe that he _is_ the father?"

"That's simple enough to prove, Padmé," Kenobi said, taking her hand in his and kissing her fingertips. "A basic medical examination will give you everything you need. Your other concern is much more valid."

She nodded absently. "We'll have to discuss it when he comes home to me." Padmé took a deep breath and smiled at her lover, laid a hand upon his bearded cheek. "Thank you," she said softly. "You've been more helpful than you know." The Senator stood on her toes to swiftly kiss the man, an almost sad smile on her lips. "But we can't do this, not anymore."

"...I know." He swiftly grasped her hand in his and pulled the startled girl against him and held her close, a faint flush on her cheeks from the closeness of this man that she had once loved, and perhaps, in some way, still did. "But I'm not letting you go, Padmé. I promised to protect you, and I sense that you're going to need it. Something's... _stirring_ , Padmé. I don't know what it is, but it claws at me, and I won't lose another I have sworn to protect."

"Anakin-"

"May be the one I need to protect you against." The Senator sucked in a sharp breath as she looked into those golden eyes, saw the sincerity in them, and she nodded, slowly slipping her arms around him, her hands running over the back she knew was crossed with scars, her head resting on his chest and listening to his strong, slow heartbeat. She couldn't help but wonder if all of this was because of what happened to Satine, if some part of him longed and ached to correct a mistake he wrongly thought was his. If this is what he needed to forgive himself, to put that awful tragedy behind him, then...perhaps having the protection of Obi-Wan wasn't such a bad thing.

And...he was right. Anakin had become so angry as of late, perhaps rightfully so, but his anger bred a violence that she had never seen in him before. There was something dark, something monestrous in her husband that lay in wait just under the surface, and it frightened her, not in the least because she felt she may have been the one to put it there. She brushed the thought aside. They were going to be a family now. Everything was going to be alright, though a faint, soft feeling deep inside her seemed to whisper that Obi-Wan was right, and she may come to need that protection after all.


	100. The Battle of Coruscant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY 100 CHAPTERS YOU GUYS! WOOOO! PARTY! Honestly, thank you all so very much for all your support, and a special than you to those who share your thoughts, your comments, your questions, your suggestions, etc. I have had a blast writing this because of you all, and I can't believe how much we've actually managed to cover on this journey of ours. I don't respond to you guys as much as I should (I'm writing the next chapters for you guys instead) but I read each and every one and take the things you guys say to heart. I really think about the things you guys say, so thank you for helping me craft something fun. Now, sentimentality out of the way, let's get to it! I've made this one EXTRA long, just for you! To celebrate! Tiny bit sexy, isn't it? Onwards, my lovelies, and please enjoy!

"Sit, Anakin," Qui-Gon said softly, the Master kneeling upon the cold, hard ground of Skywalker's _Vigilance_ and watching with calm detachment as the Knight furiously paced back and forth, back and forth, occasionally shouting at Tarkin when he passed the Admiral at the helm, the command of the ship passed to him by Qui-Gon until they reached their destination. Anakin fought the decision, of course, insisting instead that he maintain control of his own ship, that they continue on their course for Karkaris, the Separatist world where Kenobi's _Negotiator_ and _Liberator_ were last seen,. The Sith Lord had shot down the Republic Star Destroyer that had been fighting there, and Anakin was getting ready to rush after him with support for the rest of the Republic ships taken by surprise by Kenobi around the aquatic planet when Qui-Gon arrived to redirect him.

"Sit, Anakin..." Qui-Gon said again when the fuming man strode past again, and with a sigh, Qui-Gon grabbed Skywalker with the Force, lifted him in the air, and deposited the squirming man before him, taking his hands in his grasp and allowing calm to flow through him, and a moment later, Anakin's body slumped, his eyelids heavy as he relaxed for perhaps the first time in two months. The Master patted his hand. "There's so much darkness in you, Anakin," he said softly, and Skywalker's hand twitched with sudden tension brought on by a flash of anger.

" _Kenobi put it there_!" Anakin shouted, would have rose to his feet, but Qui-Gon held him fast. "He's killing Jedi, he's tearing apart the Order, he's making this war _impossible_ to win, he's turning Jedi into Sith, he stayed in _my brother's home_ , he's making me chase him all across the galaxy, and he _had sex with Padmé_!" Qui-Gon winced when Skywalker's mechanical appendage tightened so hard around his hand he thought the bones may break. "He's taking everything from me, Qui-Gon, _everything_!"

"You are allowing him to, Anakin," Qui-Gon said sternly. "Distance yourself, my student, set aside your feelings, put them in their place."

"Their place is fueling my lightsaber as I _drive it through his vile heart!_ "

"He has already beat you." Anakin's eyes, blazing and furious and _betrayed_ bore through Master Jinn, but the Jedi was unaffected. "Anakin," Qui-Gon said softly, "you are following him into darkness. He doesn't even need to lead you into it, you are willingly rushing after him in your obsession with his death because of what he has done to _you_." Anakin sucked in a sharp breath, still furious, but now listening. "You are a Jedi, Anakin. You cannot beat a Sith Lord when darkness is concerned, and you are drawing dangerously close. It has left you unbalanced, and it is making you _stupid_."

"...but _Padmé_ -"

"Is under Sith influence, and your relationship with her has made her a _target_ ," Qui-Gon growled. "Your involvement, your passion, your obviously violent reaction to what Obi-Wan has done has only served to put her more at risk, not to mention putting _you_ in the sights of the Sith Master, who, may I remind you, may _sit in the Senate_ , and even if he doesn't, he's close enough to exert his influence over Senator Amidala."

"...y-you think he's watching me?" Anakin asked, his voice little more than a high, thin whisper.

"I don't know, Anakin," the Master said softly. "What I _do_ know is that if I were Sith, I would know all the threats to my power, as Obi-Wan has done. I would know you are a vergence in the Force, and I would watch you closely because of it. " _And_ ," he said firmly, "I would be certain that the threat were neutralized, be it through death, or through his own fall to the Dark Side." The Master's dark blue eyes narrowed. "Guess which one you are, Anakin."

"You think I'd fall to the Dark Side?!" Anakin asked, outraged.

" _You already are_." Qui-Gon took a deep breath and stroked the back of the boy's shaking hand. "When we get to Coruscant, we'll be facing our greatest challenge yet. The bulk of the Separatist fleet is over Coruscant, the Chancellor is aboard General Grievous' ship, and it's likely we will be facing more than one Sith Lord when we go to rescue him."

"It shouldn't be a problem," Anakin growled, and a sharp tug on his earlobe made the boy hiss in pain.

" _Arrogance_ ," Qui-Gon hissed. "You are reckless and angry and unbalanced and you're making stupid mistakes, and when we're on the _Invisible Hand_ , these things will get you _killed_." Anakin's gaze dropped from his Master's face, sufficiently cowed and reticent. "You need to be perfectly balanced in the Force, or you _will_ die. They didn't attack Coruscant without bringing their best."

"Kenobi-"

"Will be there," the Master said softly. "Even if his ship is not." Qui-Gon smiled softly. "The Sith deal in passion, Anakin, they are trained to harness and embrace their anger, but you aren't. You may feel the swell of power if you embrace that darkness, but it will be wild, unfocused, untrained. You are a youngling to them in matters of the Dark Side, and they are _Masters_ , all of them. You may find additional strength, but you will also be off-balance. Do not give them this advantage. If you are lost to the Jedi, than we have truly failed."

Anakin nodded without hesitation, his breathing deepening as he relaxed. "I understand, Master," he said softly. "I'll...try to control my anger."

"There is no try," Qui-Gon said, a soft smile on his lips. "Not in this."

Anakin laughed softly. "Help me?" he asked, and Jinn took the boy's hands tightly in his own.

"Let go your fear and your anger, Anakin, and replace it with sympathy and understanding. Your enemy is a Sith Lord, a man that has done _horrible_ things, not just to the galaxy, but to _you_ personally. But the evil in him was not born, it was made, just as it will be made in you if you continue to follow the path your anger takes you on."

"...he's trying to take Padmé from me," Anakin softly growled.

"Yes, and he _wouldn't_ if his involvement with her left you untouched. You see a man trying to take what is yours, but I see a man who has lost _everything_ and is struggling to reclaim balance. If you meet Kenobi with hate, Anakin, you will lose."

"...he needs to be killed, Master, he is a danger to us all."

"...I agree he must be dealt with," Qui-Gon said softly. "And the Jedi may yet defeat him, but a fallen enemy may rise again. It is a reconciled one that is truly defeated."

Anakin scoffed. "You think you can _reconcile_ with him?!"

"I know I can." The strength of Qui-Gon's conviction startled Anakin for a moment, and slowly, he begun to relax again, his eyes closed as he opened himself to his Master.

"Alright," he said quietly. "Help me be what I need to be, help me understand."

* * *

Grievous tossed Chancellor Palpatine to the ground of the ship, the feeble old man giving a sharp yelp of pain that was met by the deep, cruel laughter of Pong Krell. They bowed deeply to the men that stood before the viewport, the two looking out at the battle that raged around them, the space above Coruscant alight with the red and green of lasers fired by starfighters, the blues of ion cannons, the purples of proton torpeedoes. The _Invisible Hand_ was the mightiest ship in the Separatist fleet, and any stray fire that managed to strike their mighty shields was insignificant. Their defenses were still at nearly a hundred percent, but the bulk of their reenforcements hadn't arrived yet. Soon enough, more Star Destroyers would fill the sky as Anakin Skywalker's fleet emerged from hyperspace to chase back the invasion.

"My Lords," Grievous said, cruel laughter playing at the edge of his metallic voice. "We've brought you a gift."

"You monsters won't get away with this," Palpatine said, his voice wavering and afraid, and Krell laughed harshly.

"We can kill him now, Master, and be done with it."

" _Patience_ , my apprentice," Dooku growled. "We must give the Chancellor an opportunity to surrender the Republic to us. After all, we _have_ conquered them."

"Having him alive on this ship will be the _only_ thing keeping Skywalker from destroying us," Kenobi said softly. "His success cannot be discounted, and his piloting skills are said to be among the best in the galaxy. We are not to underestimate him."

"...yes, Master," Krell said softly.

"My death and my capture brings me no closer to victory," Palpatine said in a shaky, fearful voice, his thin shoulder quaking with nerves, unable to find the strength to rise to his feet.

"We shall see," Dooku said, looking back out the viewport. "Grievous, Krell. Leave us. Prepare to face the Jedi." Both men bowed deeply and turned to leave, their footsteps echoing as they walked into the elevator, talking softly to each other and chucking deeply, clearly amused and excited at the prospects of facing the Jedi. The elevator hissed open, carrying the two away, and the fearful look on Palpatine's face dropped away into one of cold, emotionless indifference. He rose, his soft steps making hardly a sound as he slowly made his way to stand between his two apprentices.

Dooku frowned when Sidious slid his hand up into Kenobi's hair and the young man moaned softly and leaned into the touch. They had agreed that their Master needed to live until the end of the war, that he was necessary to the foundation of the Empire, but today may very well be the end. Perhaps not the end in the way their Master had planned, but Sidious had several contingencies in the event things didn't play out exactly as he anticipated. But Obi-Wan was in no condition to destroy his Master now, and Dooku knew that Sidious had taken _very_ careful steps to ensure Kenobi's loyalty, especially after he had discovered that Darth Lumis had discovered a route to immortality.

Dooku had noticed that Obi-Wan was _extremely_ youthful in appearance, and while his beard did make him appear older, Kenobi had aged not at all in the thirteen years he had known him. It made him _invaluable_ to Sidious, and in the past month, the Sith Lord had been bordering on obsession on learning what his apprentice had somehow discovered. Torture had done nothing to tear a confession from him. Reaching into his mind had yielded nothing but burns from the flames of his mind. Whatever it was, the information was lost to Sidious, and if he were to obtain eternity, Lumis needed to be kept close, kept loyal, kept mad enough to be controllable, but sane enough to destroy all that opposed him. It was a delicate balance, but Sidious had seemed to strike it.

"Today," Sidious said softly, "is the day you kill Anakin Skywalker." Kenobi closed his eyes and shivered.

" _Yes_. Yes, my Master..."

"Are you strong enough to do it, my apprentice?" The younger Sith scoffed, disgust flowing off of him, and Dooku couldn't help but smile softly. _Something_ had eased Lumis, soothed his feverish mind and left him clear, focused, _powerful_. His insanity was far from his mind, the power of the Force he commanded laced with the burning embers of his madness, but far from consuming. They wouldn't kill Sidious today, it was still premature. But they _could_.

"I am one with the Dark Side, Master. The Sith are my strength. I will not fail." Sidious smiled, his hand dropping from Obi-Wan's hair, and the young Sith reached up to smooth it back. "What's it like to pretend to be Palpatine before all these fools?"

The Master frowned deeply. "Soon enough, there will be no need for disguises." He said nothing else, simply strode to the command chair at the center of the deck and sat upon it, making himself comfortable as he awaited the Jedi that were certain to come to his rescue.

"...you seem better," Dooku said under his breath, leaning down to speak near the other Sith's ear, his eyes focused on the Master that sat in meditation. He could feel Kenobi's pleasure through the Force.

"I find my mistress to be... _soothing_." He smiled, shifted from foot to foot as Dooku snorted in amusement.

"Is that all it takes to bury your grief?" Dooku asked. "Stealing a woman from a Jedi so you may slip inside her when you please?"

"...no." He took a deep breath as he laid his hand on the viewport and pressed his forehead to the cool, thick transparisteel. "Nothing will heal that wound. But she is pleasing to me, and thoughts of her children help keep me centered and focused within the Force." Dooku arched an eyebrow and looked at the young, apparently excessively virile man.

"Children so soon?" Dooku asked, bemused. "I would not have thought you'd be so quick to become a father again."

"...perhaps its what I needed," Obi-Wan said softly. "The children... _my_ children..."

"...does our Master know?" Obi-Wan looked over his shoulder at the Sith Master and back to the concerned face of the Sith he used to hate and had come to deeply respect.

"I don't know," he said softly. "I haven't told him, but I feel he's watching her closely. If he knows, he has said nothing to me."

"Our time is fast approaching, Lumis." Kenobi nodded, but said nothing. "You have something he wants. _Badly_ wants, and desperation to learn it will one day reveal a weakness."

"I can't teach him what he wants, Tyranus, I don't know how I do it myself. It's...instinctual, I suppose." Dooku held his breath as he looked at the man, and a small smile tugged at the edge of his thin lips.

"Could you... _confer_ youth upon others?" Kenobi bit his lip, eyes closed as he lost himself in thought.

"...I don't know. I've never tried it. I suppose it's possible."

"Then our Master is never going to let you go." Obi-Wan thought that would relieve his fears about being replaced, but he felt the Force run cold, tug at his being in warning, and he knew that Dooku was right, and it filled him with dread.

* * *

Even in the protection of Coruscant, the Jedi were divided. Reenforcements were slow to arrive, and with so many Jedi off the planet fighting in defense of a thousand other planets, many could not return without losing the worlds they were fighting for. It was a sacrifice the Order was not willing to take, and so they called in Anakin Skywalker and his fleet, the General that led a thousand victories, to save the Republic and rescue the kidnaped Chancellor. Droid armies on the ground in Coruscant left the clones stationed there and the Jedi that remained in the city to launch the defense, and in doing so, the Masters of the Council that remained were forced out into the streets to defend the billions of civilians that lived on their planet. Victory over the Separatist fleet was left in the hands of the most talented pilot in the galaxy, and there was no question that Skywalker would return in triumph.

The problem was that Chancellor Palpatine was being held hostage inside the _Invisible Hand_ , the largest ship Anakin had ever seen, and there was a very real fear that Palpatine would be executed by jumpy Separatists if the Jedi came too close, if the massive dreadnaught took too much damage, if it seemed the Republic was _winning_. So far as Anakin figured, this was very much like any other mission he had embarked on. At the end of the day, it would come down to a couple of Jedi with a clever plan to save the day, and Anakin had a very clever plan.

"The plan _isn't_ clever," Qui-Gon growled from the passenger seat, his arms crossed over his chest, and Anakin rolled his eyes, his hands on the yoke and the accelerator as he pressed the starfighter forward, the yellow ship swerving and spinning around the field of battle with practiced expertise, his copilot Tarkin shooting down any droid fighters he could get a lock on. Qui-Gon _always_ knew what was on his mind. _Always_.

"This plan," Anakin drawled as he deftly avoided the green lasers of the vulture droids, "is reckless and completely foolish and suicidal, really." He smirked. "They'll never suspect it."

Qui-Gon groaned, putting his face in his hands as the ship looped around and flew through the fiery explosion of a ship they had hit. The _Invisible Hand_ loomed overhead, its open hangar drawling ever closer, even with Skywalker's meandering path. The plan was madness, of course, but it was the sort of madness that the Jedi excelled at. Anakin in particular had a knack for the impossible, and for three men to sneak deep into the heart of the largest, most well-defended ship in the Separatist fleet, rescue a valuable, elderly hostage, and escape again would take nothing short of the miracles that Skywalker had become famous for.

They were nearly there, the talented pilot directing them almost effortlessly along the belly of the dreadnaught, and with a sharp tug of the yoke, the ship spiraled upwards, a sharp turn up the side of the ship and heading directly toward the exposed hangar, the orange environmental shield covering the open bay. Alerted to the presence of a fighter along it's flank, the heavy doors began to slide closed, and Anakin pushed the ship harder, his focus on the rapidly narrowing entrance. Just as he was about to swing the ship inside, twisting sideways to enter the narrow space, a beam of green plasma struck the ship's engines, the explosion rocking the fighter enough for the wing to hit the doors as they entered the hangar, smoke pouring a trail after them as the ship slid to a crashing stop.

The cockpit shielding slid open, and Anakin and Qui-Gon jumped out, lightsabers igniting in the air as they deflected the onslaught of the blasterfire the sentry droids rained down upon them. There weren't nearly as many as anticipated. Anakin had been right. They never expected anyone to get this close to the _Invisible Hand_. Reenforcements poured in through blast doors that opened wide, and the two Jedi raised their weapons, ready for combat when their burning ship groaned, turned, and opened fire on the droids, releasing its full armament into the hapless mechanicals, explosions rocking the hangar as the powerful missiles detonated and destroyed the enemy ranks. When the smoke and flames had cleared, the hangar stood still, the droids destroyed, the sound of their ships engines burning as Tarkin climbed out of the hatch, securing his pistols to his belt and his rifle to his back. Qui-Gon pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned.

"There goes our chance of escape..." the Master complained. "Honestly, Anakin, we were _so close_..."

"It's better than not getting in, Master," Anakin said, laughing as he looked around the empty hangar and watched R2-D2 eject himself from his place on the burning starship and quickly make his way across the hangar to a wall where he could plug in. "They stole a ship from me, maybe we'll steal the _Invisible Hand_."

"There are _Sith Lords_ on this ship, Anakin!" Qui-Gon hissed as his former student fiddled with the wires in a console on the wall, and a door beside them opened, the hallway beyond dark and cold.

"And Grievous," Tarkin said casually, adjusting the extra ammunition he had brought with him upon his belt. "And two million battle droids." He shrugged. "Perhaps stealing the ship is a bit out of our skill range. Even for a Jedi."

"Tarkin, I have proven-"

"That you are an _idiot_ , sir," the Admiral droned. "One month of chasing Kenobi around the galaxy and ignoring the advice of your advisors does _not_ instill confidence in your leadership abilities." He scoffed slightly when Anakin activated his lightsaber to light the dark corridor, keeping close to the two Jedi as they slowly navigated the Separatist dreadnaught. "Perhaps the Jedi _shouldn't_ be leading the war. Victory would be achieved quicker without your Code to get in the way, or without your _ridiculous_ feud with this Jedi offshoot."

"Perhaps you're right..." Qui-Gon said softly. "It's true that our rules often get in the way of our mission."

"You and General Skywalker are refreshing exceptions to that rule, sir," Tarkin said, checking the datapad where the schematics of the _Invisible Hand_ had been downloaded, the plans accessed by R2 from his mining of the ships data from the port he plugged in to. "Connection established with your R2 unit, sir. It has activated alarms in the posterior of the ship and has disrupted security monitoring devices in our area. Left down this way, Generals."

The Jedi silently did as directed, with Anakin taking the lead and Qui-Gon bringing up the rear, the three men close and silent as they infiltrated the ship. They stepped out into a wide corridor, brightly lit unlike the others they had been in, and Anakin rushed forward to begin taking apart the control console on the wall when Tarkin pointed to the elevator that would bring them to where he believed they needed to be. While Anakin worked, Qui-Gon and Tarkin stood guard, weapons in hand and watching down opposite ends of the corridor. There was no movement, no sounds save for the groaning of the ship, the hum of the engines, and the sound of the futile attempts to break through the shields of the massive dreadnaught.

Qui-Gon smiled softly when he felt Skywalker's focus and determination. It had been difficult to talk him away from the edge, so close had the boy been to darkness, so consumed by fear and jealousy and hate and anger that there was almost no reaching the boy. He had seen far too little of his former Padawan in the months since he had soothed the raging boy after the mess with Padmé, but his duties to the Republic had sent him to distant Mygeeto. There was nothing to be done about that, but when they returned, he would make certain that he never left Anakin's side. Obi-Wan had been correct about the vision that he had shown him within the Force, of that he was certain. It had _everything_ to do with Anakin., and the prospect of the boy's fall was a terrifying one, one that would certainly signal the end of the Jedi Order. Perhaps they could survive the might of a Dark Side nexus in the form of Obi-Wan Kenobi with a counter on their side, but without that balance, without _Anakin_ , they would certainly be lost.

It wasn't too late, not yet. The Dark Side was difficult to turn away from, yes, but it was possible and it could be done, and Anakin was in a better position to do it than most. Yes, he was impulsive and passionate, but Qui-Gon had centered his training of the boy around _managing_ his emotions instead of repressing them. He needed guidance and help, but young Skywalker was never shy on seeking it, and Qui-Gon had always been there to render aid whenever needed. He had tasted the Dark Side once on Tatooine after his mother had died, but he had been pulled away from the edge then, first by Owen, then by Qui-Gon, and while he may never fully recover from the incident, he had _managed_ it. He would manage this as well. Padmé's infidelity due to Sith manipulation had been carefully discussed on the way here, and logic had slowly prevailed, leaving Anakin centered and focused, rooted in the Force like he had never been.

The challenge would be in maintaining his cool, his calm, his detachment in the face of Obi-Wan, but Skywalker had faced greater challenges before. He would overcome this one. He could feel it through their connection, the calm resolve, the slow, even pulse of his heart that belied his ease, his measured confidence, his soft, easy pull for strength from his Master, and Qui-Gon willingly gave it. They were one housed in two bodies, one mind sharing every thought, every feeling, and any flare of nerves, of fear, of anger, was quickly countered with patience and understanding, so Anakin remained serene. The conditions were ideal. However, if their opponent was at his best, if Obi-Wan had managed to push through the insanity that tore through him, then the man would be fearsome, powerful like that hadn't seen from him in the past. It was a serious problem, especially considering how much could go wrong.

"This would be faster if we had your droid do this, Anakin," Qui-Gon said quietly, and Anakin smiled, amused, and rolled his eyes in mock irritation.

"We went over this before, Master, R2 is going to be covering our infiltration, accessing anything on our path will give anyone who looks a clear idea of where we are.."

"He isn't doing a good job."

"He's _trying_ , Master, and I don't see any droid patrols, so he's doing _something_." The elevator slid open with a hiss, and with a cocky grin, Anakin gestured for the other two men to enter. Once inside, the elevator swiftly rose through the ship, the three men focusing or checking their weapons in silence until Anakin quietly asked, "What do you think we can expect?"

"General Grievous is on board," Tarkin said quickly. "And we know Count Dooku is here as well, supposedly _discussing_ terms with the Chancellor. If we are fortunate, we can end the war _today_ , General Skywalker. I cannot stress the importance of killing those two in particular." Anakin looked to Qui-Gon, the old Master standing tall and silent, his eyes closed as he reached through the ship with the Force.

"...Obi-Wan is here," he said softly, and Anakin tensed, his heart beating faster as anger rushed through him, but it was quickly soothed by the Master. "We knew he would be, Anakin. We are ready for this. Remain focused. You are a vergence in the Force, its energy naturally flows to you. Do not disrupt the flow by losing your balance."

"Yes, Master," Anakin said, smiling softly as calm spread over him. His mental walls were in place, strong and impenetrable, just as Master Yoda had taught him. His lightsaber felt weightless in his hand, an extension of himself less than an object that existed separate from him. And he was balanced, focused, calm like the Jedi Master by his side, confident and unafraid. Their opponents may be Sith, but _they_ were Jedi, and their strength was eternal. They could not be beaten, not here, and not today. After all, as fearsome as they were, these were just men, angrier than most, but they still bled when they were cut, and they would die just like everyone else must. The Sith walked a path of pain and suffering, and for that, they deserved to be pitied, not feared.

The elevator stopped, the doors slid open, and Qui-Gon Jinn, Anakin Skywalker, and Wilhuff Tarkin were met by the staring faces of twenty plus MagnaGuard droids, and in the middle of them all stood General Grievous.

"Oops..." Anakin said sheepishly, slouching as he felt the angry, disdainful eyes of his companions upon him. The ends of the weapons in the droids' hands ignited in a cackle of pink and purple energy as Grievous cackled. Palpatine was nowhere in sight. "Wrong floor."

" _Wrong floor_?!" Tarkin snapped, aghast. "We're all going to die, and _that's_ what you say?"

"Hey, I'm cracking into high security areas using _wires_! Give me a break!"

"Focus, boys..." Qui-Gon said softly, igniting his lightsaber when Grievous' arms disconnected, thin and dangerous, and held four glowing blades in each hand, each one belonging to a Jedi he had killed. "The space is small, and their greater numbers may work to our advantage." Anakin's eyes lit up when he saw what his Master did, and a slow, sly smirk spread across his face as he nodded to his fellow Jedi.

"General Skywalker," Grievous growled, an amused ring to his hollow, mechanical voice. "We've been expecting you."

"And _this_ is how you treat your guests?" Anakin asked, taking his lightsaber into his hand as Tarkin drew his pistols from his holsters and pointed them at the cyborg. "Really, I'm offended."

"You won't be for long," the cyborg threatened, the lightsabers in his hands spinning in his grasp two held out before him and the other two held over his shoulders. "After I've beant you and killed your friends, I'll be taking you to Lord Kenobi."

"You may try," Anakin said as he smiled, and the moment Grievous moved, he held out his hands and blasted the mechanicals back with the Force, clawed feet screeching and leaving trails of sparks upon the ground, and with a little space created, Anakin took two steps into the room and jumped over the heads of the droids, twisting in the air and angling his lightsaber down at the cyborg General, the furious Grievous slashing the air and batting Skywalker's blade out of the way. The Jedi landed in a crouch at Grievous' feet, and the cyborg swept his lightsabers in a wild, vicious arc at the young man, and Anakin easily ducked under them, the General's weapons connecting with the droids that stood closest to him. Grievous didn't seem to mind as he continued his aggressive pursuit of the swift, athletic Jedi, his own elite droids unable to get out of the way of his furious assault, and Anakin wanted to keep it that way.

His glowing blue blade held out before him, light and easy in his relaxed grip, Anakin focused on the Force, allowing it to guide his hand as he blocked and dodged Grievous' flurry. It was... _taxing_ , even at his best, and defense and retreat never came easily to impulsive Anakin, though he knew that in order to thin the numbers, in order to deal maximum damage to the sturdy, highly advanced MagnaGuard, he would have to utilize Grievous' fury. His bodyguards weren't fighting him, after all. Keeping his hand held out behind him, Skywalker casually threw the droids out of the way when they rushed him, when he felt an attack coming, clearing his way for his retreat and more often than not throwing them into others, their weapons damaging their own comrades, the electric ends of their weapons shorting and frying their circuits and making them move slower and disrupting their refined movements. A droid was a machine like any other, and if Anakin Skywalker knew one thing better than anyone, it was mechanics.

As he retreated, ducking under Grievous' blades and agilely dodging out of the way of the electrostaffs the MagnaGuard carried, he looked over to see Qui-Gon standing in the door of the elevator, his weapon held defensively as he held his ground and protected their exit and the Admiral that stood behind him unloading his blasters into the droids that surrounded them. Qui-Gon never budged as he cut through droid after droid, one by one falling as easily as the one beside it, the Jedi and the Admiral working in tandem to disrupt, distract, and destroy their assailants. From Tarkin and Qui-Gon, all Anakin could feel was cold, clear resolve, calm in the face of danger, and before they knew it, the MagnaGuard lay in pieces upon the floor of the bridge. The way clear, Qui-Gon shifted his grip on his weapon, clutching it in both hands and signaling his intent to his former student. With a wide grin, Anakin dodged two swift cuts and slipped under Grievous' guard, forcing the cyborg to back up and defend just as Qui-Gon struck. The tide had turned, and the Jedi began their offensive.

Grievous' increasing fury only made him hit harder, move faster, his anger not unbalancing him but making him far more dangerous than he had been before, but Anakin and Qui-Gon stayed close, their minds open to each other, knowing each other's movements before they had been executed. They were not a team, they were one, and Anakin knew that there was nothing Grievous could do to come between that. He was done. They pressed their assault, their blue blades blazing trails in the air and countering what they could of the cyborg's rapidly spinning weapons, one using the Force to pull him off balance while the other struck at him, but Grievous had managed to block and deflect every strike so far. It wouldn't last. Grievous may be tireless, but without a connection to the Force, he was simply no match for two that lived and breathed it.

A sharp, sudden crack echoed through the room, and Anakin and Qui-Gon both backed away, ducking low and wincing against the ringing in their ears, and shielding their eyes as they were showered by sparks and shrapnel. They looked up to see Grievous, beginning to hear his pained, outraged howling through their deafened senses, the cyborg's arms on his right side and a portion of his chest shot clear off by a perfectly aimed shot by Tarkin, who stood ready and aiming outside the elevator. The Jedi didn't waste a moment, and together, they attacked Grievous again, the crippled General struggling to retreat and hold off the two dangerous men.

Even badly injured, Grievous proved to be a dangerous opponent, and despite the ragged, labored breathing that echoed behind his skull-like mask, despite the limping caused by severed wires and connections, he felt no pain, and his crippling injuries only made him more angry, his movements more random, and Anakin was reminded that an injured enemy may still hold victory when the tips of the General's green lightsaber grazed his ribs, making the Jedi recoil and hiss in pain as robes and skin burned and smoked. That small stop was all Grievous needed to throw himself at the viewport, his fist slamming on the console and his lightsaber thrusting through the transparisteel, and with an earthshattering roar, the forward viewport shattered, sucking Grievous out into the vacuum of space, along with all the air and everything that wasn't bolted to the deck.

Anakin and Qui-Gon felt themselves pulled toward open space, and they both reached out and grabbed the command chair, their arms stretching and straining against the pull. Anakin looked up to see Tarkin firmly grasping the frame of the elevator, his breath held and his face discolored as space rushed in to meet them. Jaw clenched, Anakin reached deep into the Force, felt its warmth fill him, and let go, pulled quickly toward the opening. He reached out and grabbed the control console, grunting in pain as his arm was violently pulled with the sudden force of his stop, and he reached out and slammed his hand on one of the furiously blinking, beeping lights of the console. Protective ray shielding slammed down over the exposed viewport, obscuring the battle before them behind hard, black tempered steel, and with a hissing rush, oxygen began to fill the room as it was pressurized, the three men collapsing to the ground and taking large gulps of air. It only took a moment before the men were back on their feet, checking themselves for damage and making certain their weapons were fixed to them.

"Do you think he's dead?" Anakin asked, but he already knew the answer, even before Qui-Gon shook his head. Grievous was almost certainly alive. It wouldn't be unreasonable to think that the General's enhancements could allow him to survive for at least some time in the vacuum of space. "A _slugthrower_ rifle, Tarkin?" Anakin asked in disbelief when he turned to face his Admiral, the man quietly securing the weapon in question to his back once again.

"It may be primitive," Tarkin said in his crisp accent, superiority affecting his every word, "but I was led to believe that we would be fighting opponents that wielded lightsabers, making modern blaster technology ineffective." He allowed a small smirk to grace his lips. "They cannot be blocked by plasma, and it is _shockingly_ effective at punching holes through most energy resistant armor."

"Shit, let's just have Tarkin shoot holes through the Sith!"

"If it was that easy," Qui-Gon said softly as he stood, "then someone would have done it already. It will be up to us to defeat them."

"And we will do _nothing_ that interferes in the mission to rescue the Chancellor," Tarkin said firmly. "Ideally, we can save him and kill Dooku and Kenobi and whatever other allies they may have gathered, but his rescue comes first, even if it means letting them escape with their lives if they run."

Anakin frowned, his heart beating faster as anger burned within him, cold and hard and deep. He wouldn't be letting them escape. Not today, not when victory was in reach, not the end of the war was in sight. "We _will_ kill them, Tarkin," Anakin growled, but the Admiral just shook his head.

"With all due respect, General, the Chancellor outranks even _you_ , and I will submit to his authority. If you wish to run off and die in your quest for revenge, _fine_ , but I'm bringing Palpatine safely back to Coruscant."

"He's right, Anakin," Qui-Gon said softly, laying his hand upon the younger man's shoulder. "We will do our best to end this here, but if it puts the Chancellor at risk, we must relent. Life before death, Anakin. We are Jedi. We aren't like them." Anakin bit his lip and slowly nodded, the anger fading as he accepted Qui-Gon's wisdom.

"You're right, of course. There will always be another chance to get at Kenobi."

"Your droid is assuming control of our path, Skywalker," Tarkin said swiftly, striding to the Jedi and handing his General his datapad. "He has located Chancellor Palpatine on the observation deck at the front of the ship." Anakin groaned. It was a long way through a ship that would now not only be aware of their exact location, but very keen on destroying them. "Also," the Admiral said softly, "the _Invisible Hand's_ shields have been significantly reduced. It seems our allies are tired of waiting. We _have_ been here for some time. The assumption of our death is a good one."

"Can we get a message out?" Anakin asked as he reviewed R2's data feed, frowning when he saw how damaged the ship's systems were because of their fight on the control deck. This ship was doomed, it seemed. The central computers had been damaged, and the machine was now forced to operate on local systems. Ship failure was imminent, and based on the state of the shields and the remaining systems, he put the dreadnaught's life expectancy at two or three hours at best. They had a _time limit_.

"The R2 unit has attempted, but without any luck," Tarkin said. "We must make haste. Time is no longer on our side."

They didn't need to say more than that. Together, Skywalker, Tarkin and Jinn rushed through the ship, every path closed to them opened remotely by R2-D2, lightsabers and blasters cutting down any droid patrols in their path, but their numbers were surprisingly thin. With their path clear, they quickly made their way to the front of the ship and sealed themselves inside the elevator that would bring them to where the Chancellor was being held by the Sith Lords. They had been calm before, but now, their hearts were pounding in anticipation, and they each had to close their eyes to take deep breaths that would soothe their nerves.

"Anakin," Qui-Gon said softly, and the young Jedi looked up at the Master, his face calm and serene and distant, those dark blue eyes almost seeming to be lost in the Force, and for a moment, Anakin felt fear run through him. "Remember what we're up against. These are Sith Lords, and they are powerful beyond what you can imagine. Hate will make them strong. Pain will make them _stronger_. You are not to underestimate them for a second. Take no risks, show no emotion, lest they prey on your darker urges."

"I'll put my faith in the Force, Master," Skywalker said, and the Master looked down at him and smiled gently, almost sadly, and the elevator hissed open. The room was _much_ bigger, far more spacious than the closed, cramped quarters of the control deck. In the middle of the room sat Chancellor Palpatine, his knobby fingers tightly grasping the armrests of the chair he sat in, his thin frame shaking. A faint, hopeful smile came to his face when he looked up and saw the three men enter the room, but it quickly faded to be replaced with dread.

"You shouldn't be here," the Chancellor said, his thin voice shivering, and the Jedi stopped dead in their tracks the moment they began to move toward the elderly man. Here, the Force had been blown open wide, the Dark Side thick and oppressive and hanging heavy in the air, almost tactile on the skin like a thick, corrosive mist, and both Jedi took their lightsabers into their hand and ignited them, hoping the soft blue glow and the gentle thrum of the weapons would somehow keep the darkness back. Tarkin remained unaffected, but the sudden pause of his Jedi companions made him unsling his rifle, the weapon primed and ready to shoot at a moment's notice. They were frozen to the spot, none wishing to move, lest they disturb the stillness of the room, though they knew the occupants were alerted to their presence.

The long, sweeping viewport showed the expanse of the battle that raged, green and red and blue and purple light blazing across the black backdrop of space as hundreds of thousands of starfighters raced and spun and burst into flames, a hundred mighty dreadnaughts and Star Destroyers hanging heavy over the planet dotted with a million lights of its expansive city. Standing before it were three silhouetted figures, one a hulking creature with four arms, the one next to it tall, elegant, imposing, and beside him stood a man that came up to his shoulder, smaller than the others, but no less fearsome. Pong Krell, Count Dooku, and Obi-Wan Kenobi. Anakin swallowed his mounting anxiety. They had been anticipating two Sith Lords. They hadn't expected a third, and certainly not one as dangerous as former Jedi Master Pong Krell.

"Tarkin," Anakin whispered, the Admiral leaning toward the Jedi as he spoke. "You need to get the Chancellor to safety while Qui-Gon and I deal with these guys."

"That isn't going to happen, Skywalker," Dooku said, his deep voice rich and echoing across the large room, his lightsaber coming to his hand and igniting as he turned to face the Jedi. "The Chancellor isn't leaving. _None of you_ are leaving."

"Master!" Qui-Gon gasped, stepping forward a few steps before Anakin could grab him, and he quickly rushed to stand beside his friend. He had forgotten that Count Dooku had trained Qui-Gon. This whole thing was... _disgustingly_ personal for Qui-Gon Jinn, and Anakin couldn't help but marvel at how brilliantly the Jedi managed it all, how firsmly he stood rooted in the Force, how unshakable his resolve was. He wanted to be like that. He _needed_ to be like that. His eyes drifted to Obi-Wan, his golden eyes glowing in the dim light of the room, and he could feel anger and bile rise up within him. He forced it back down, demanding his heart to stop rcing. He would be like Qui-Gon in this, distant and removed. There would be time for emotion after Kenobi lay dead at his feet.

"Qui-Gon," Dooku said softly, almost affectionately, his sonorous voice warm and inviting. "It has been a long time, my old friend. You should be pleased to know that I have cared for your student after _you_ failed him."

Qui-Gon bowed his head and lowered his weapon. "And I appreciate it more than you can possibly know," he said softly, and Anakin could feel the Dark Side seem to tremble as the Count lowered his saber as well. "As much as I hate what my failure has made him, I am... _glad_ that there was someone there for him. The suffering and pain he has endured would have been far worse had he been alone."

Dooku took a few steps forward and extended his hand toward his former student. "Come, Qui-Gon. The Jedi have _never_ suited you, as they have never suited me. You understand the corruption of the Republic. Come with me, and we can bring change to the galaxy."

Qui-Gon smiled sadly and shook his head. "I can't, Dooku, you know I can't." The Count frowned, his weapon raising, and Kenobi strode to stand beside him, as did the Besalisk, his twin double bladed lightsabers igniting with a low, menacing chuckle.

"Tyranus," Kenobi whispered, his hand on the Count's arm. "You can't kill Qui-Gon." Dooku looked at the younger man like he was crazy, but he held his gaze. "I mean it. You _can't_ kill him. I don't know if it is the will of the Force, but it cannot happen."

"It is them or us, Lumis, you know that."

Obi-Wan nodded slowly. "I will kill Skywalker first, then. Qui-Gon can be safely managed after he is dead." Kenobi drew his blade, the red weapon thrumming to life in his relaxed grip, and he faced Anakin, a devious smirk on his face. " _Skywalker_..."

"Kenobi," Anakin returned, his voice steady and smooth and far more confident than he felt, and Qui-Gon drew closer, both men slowly beginning to advance.

"I sense no madness in him, Anakin," Qui-Gon whispered. "Be careful, remain open to me."

"Yes, Master."

It wasn't Dooku or Kenobi that moved first, but Krell, the massive Besalisk jumping high into the air and over the Chancellor, putting himself between the Jedi and their goal, and a moment later, the deadly spinning blades swept at the Jedi, and Anakin and Qui-Gon dashed out of the way, each defending against one of Krell's lightsabers, the quick deflection only causing the double blades to whip around and strike again, the Jedi moving swiftly to counter the fast, graceful movements. The Sith Lords joined a moment later, and it became chaos.

Dooku and Kenobi fought as one, just as Anakin and Qui-Gon did, but the Jedi's focus was divided between what they knew they must engage, and what they were forced to contend with. Dooku and Kenobi were dangerous enough on their own, and Krell's presence did nothing but shift their focus away from defeating the Sith to merely surviving. The Sith pressed hard and fast, the intention to kill clear in their yellow eyes while Krell danced between the two pairs, raining the fury of four additional blades upon the Jedi when the fighting became too even. It was a serious problem, but neither Anakin nor Qui-Gon could divide their attention from the relentless Sith long enough to deal with Krell.

The opportunity arose when Tarkin slipped unnoticed by the combatants to come to the Chancellor's side, take his shaking hand, and run with him up to the easily defendable, elevated position by the elevators. With Palpatine safely secured behind two steel containers, the Admiral used the guard rail to steady his rifle, took aim, waited for an opening and shot at what he perceived to be the greatest threat to the otherwise balanced fight. He pulled the trigger, the deafening crack sounded throughout the room, and Pong Krell effortlessly spun his blades to deflect the shot, enough to deflect a bolt of plasma, but only serving to superheat the metal slug that sped toward him. The steel quickly melted, one projectile suddenly becoming a spray of several smaller, superheated fragments of molten metal, and the burning shrapnel struck the Besalisk in the arms, the side, his face, sending the man screaming and reeling in pain and temporarily blinded.

It was enough. Feeling the other's intent through the Force, Anakin and Qui-Gon spun their blades around Sith red, creating an opening they knew they would be too slow to take advantage of, and they flipped backwards into the air, lashing out with spinning blades as they landed, crossing the howling Krell and severing his arms as they hit the ground, the four limbs falling with a heavy, wet thud. Without hesitation, Qui-Gon and Anakin thrust their blades behind them, the glowing blue plasma piercing through the stunned creature as burning filled his lungs. The Sith were upon the Jedi a moment later, but it was too late. The blue lightsabers hissed as they slid out of Krell to block the ferocious strikes, and the Besalisk dropped to his knees and fell dead to the ground.

The satisfaction that Anakin felt at his death lasted only a moment. He had been so pleased that one threat had been dealt with, the field of battle evened considerably in the Jedi's favor, that he didn't see the wicked gleam in Kenobi's eyes, but he felt the effects a moment later when the Dark Side swelled, a vicious, powerful pulse ripping through the air and taking the breath from him. He could almost see the Dark Side in the air, drawn like a vortex to the Sith Lord he engaged, the hard, fast strikes becoming increasingly more powerful as he fed off the death that sat heavy in the Force, the darkness fading from Krell, all the considerable Force energy contained within him ripped out of his dead body and commanded to strengthen Kenobi. Anakin could almost feel his heart stop beating. He had thought this to be an advantage, but the death of Obi-Wan's comrade had only strengthened the Sith Lord.

Anakin struggled to regain his footing and secure an advantage long enough to shift to an offense, but the newly strengthened Obi-Wan was far too fast and far too aggressive to even attempt to do anything other than defend. With deep, even breaths, Anakin connected with the Force and with his Master, and he felt new strength surge within him as he found his footing. He ducked under Kenobi's blade and spun around to strike, only for his blue to meet blazing red, and the Jedi was forced to jump awkwardly back then a sharp whistle signaled Kenobi's darksaber slicing through the air towards him, the second weapon drawn while the Jedi had spun to strike. Obi-Wan dashed forward, both blades crossed, and Anakin met them in the middle with his own, locking them together as the Sith bore down upon him. His heart was beating faster, the chill slowly creeping into him when he looked into those blazing golden eyes, eyes that Qui-Gon said burned with madness wrought by grief, but Anakin couldn't help but feel the rage build, even though he _understood_ , even felt sorry for the creature that stood before him. He was going to kill Kenobi, yes, but once, so very long ago, this man had been Qui-Gon's student, and he was _so like Anakin_.

"Y-you slept with Padmé..." Anakin stuttered, not intentionally, and not angry, but it was accusatory none the less. A cruel, pleased smirk spread across the Sith Lord's lips, and Anakin knew what Qui-Gon had said was true. This was spite and malice, born out of a compulsive need to harm Skywalker, not out of any obsession with the Senator, and though what had happened angered him, he felt Qui-Gon's words enter his mind and soothe him, and soon enough, Anakin felt himself cool and detached from his emotions.

"And she loved _every_ second of it..." the Sith drawled, and Anakin found himself smiling, his sudden and unexpected shift in emotion stamping confusion and curiosity on the Sith's face.

"That's alright," Anakin said softly. "If that's what you need to feel complete again after losing your lover and your child, do what you must."

Anakin could see the change occur in Kenobi, swift and sudden across his face, like a mask he had been wearing had suddenly cracked. He was amused before, almost indifferent and removed from what was happening. Now, he could see something in those golden eyes shatter, the soft glow snapping suddenly to swirling yellows and reds that blazed more fierce and wilder than any fire ever could. Qui-Gon had been right. Insanity shone clear as day on his youthful, handsome face, and with unrestrained madness came _power_ , more than Anakin had ever seen or felt, and he shivered when a manic, crazed laugh was torn from his throat, melodic and chilling all at once. Sensing Obi-Wan had always been difficult, if not impossible before, but now, it was like staring into a black hole, deep and dark and infinite, unstoppable in its power, impossible to escape were one only to draw close enough, and Skywalker suddenly feared that he had drawn too close.

Another crack sounded in the room, Anakin watching Tarkin out of the corner of his eye as the Admiral took aim at Kenobi, but this time, no lightsaber instinctively rose to deflect the shot. The Sith Lord instead brought his arm up behind him, blocking the shot not with his weapon, but with the flesh of his forearm, and Anakin's face was splattered with blood when the steel ripped through lean muscle and exited through the other side, spraying blood and gore upon the floor and upon the Jedi. Skywalker could feel pain spike through the Sith Lord, pain that was almost instantly turned to blind rage and converted into power, the Force howling in his ears as Obi-Wan extended his hand and shot arcs of blue lightning at him. Anakin brought his lightsaber up and caught the electricity just before it struck him, but the raw power of the blast was enough to send the Jedi backwards, struggling to keep to his feet as his boots left long, dark marks on the ground.

He swung his blade around when the lightning stopped, expecting to find the Sith Lord bearing down upon him, but Kenobi had taken the opportunity to turn his attention elsewhere, the focus of his fury shifting from Skywalker to Tarken. The Admiral was swiftly taking aim again, his finger on the trigger when the Sith Lord's gaze focused upon him, and he fired again, only to find the rifle kicking back against him as the barrel bent, the Kenobi's hand extended as he gripped the weapon with the Force. Obi-Wan tore the weapon from Tarkin, the man's jaw clenched against the sudden pain of the misfired weapon, and the rifle twisted and bent in the air. The deformed lump of wood and metal was thrown at the Admiral, the man groaning in pain as it struck him, and the Force suddenly slammed into him, throwing him against the steel wall hard enough to dent it, and was held there as lightning struck him. It only ended when Anakin rushed Kenobi, the Sith's attention again refocused on the Jedi, and Tarkin fell to the ground, his unconscious body twitching as residual electricity leapt over his body. Palpatine peeked out over the crates, fearfully observing the fierce battle that was taking place and slowly climbed out of hiding to drag Tarkin to safety behind the crates.

He may have been powerful, terrifyingly so, but in the Sith's insanity, Anakin sensed he was deeply unbalanced, wild and uncontrolled. So long as he kept his wits about him, kept centered in the Force, kept connected to the warmth and calm of Qui-Gon, he knew that he could bring the Sith down. Maybe not now, maybe not in the next few minutes, but Kenobi would make mistakes, and he _would_ fall. The Sith wasn't centered, his attention and his focus deeply divided, and yet, the Dark Side still flowed to him, twisting and turning in an uneven cyclone of power, but drawn to the Sith none the less. The battle would be difficult, but as Anakin blocked and dodged the powerful slashes and returned with his own swift, controlled counterattacks, he knew he could win.

They were evenly matched. Long ago, that had not been the case. Once, Dooku had taught Qui-Gon all he knew, instructed him on how best to wield a lightsaber, how to hold the hilt light and relaxed in a delicate hand to facilitate swift, precise movements. Qui-Gon had taken well to the lessons, had always listened carefully, had always heeded his Master, at least he did where their lessons were concerned. In all else, Qui-Gon had been wild, a free spirit confined to a life of rules, and rebellious Jinn had always harbored a desire to break them if it suited him, choosing instead to follow the will of the Force, not the will of those that claimed to interpret it. He would follow his own path, the path the force laid out for him, for good or for ill in good faith that it would always lead him exactly where he needed to be.

Dooku always thought this would lead Qui-Gon to the Dark Side, had always thought that the Jedi would see the truth of the Force, how it yearned for darkness after a thousand years of uncontested light. But as ever, Qui-Gon Jinn was unpredictable. The Force had drawn him elsewhere, and Jinn had made his destiny his own, just as he had taken Dooku's lessons and altered them, adapted them to suit his own needs. He fought now very differently from when he had as a Padawan, as a Knight, as a young Master to the quiet talent that was Obi-Wan Kenobi. Before, he had been wild, reckless, aggressive, not unlike his own spirit, but time and experience had tempered him, made him more cautious, more aware of how an aging body fatigued, and he had changed again. Qui-Gon wasn't offensive, nor was he defensive. He stood in the middle, a perfect balance of careful offense and measured defense, his blade swift and efficient, his movements practiced and conservative in order to increase his stamina. Truly, his former student had become a Master worthy of being considered one of the best in the Order.

"You follow the Force, Qui-Gon," Dooku said softly, his blade locking with the other Master's for just a moment before a swift flick of Qui-Gon's wrist sent Dooku's blade swinging outward, and the Sith only just managed to bring his red blade around to block the swift stab aimed directly at his heart. "Surely you must feel the pull to darkness."

"I do," Qui-Gon softly confessed, sidestepping as Dooku stabbed at him, and he slashed down on the blade, only to have the Sith circle around and renew his offensive. "But that does not me _all_ are drawn to the Dark Side. Balance must remain, and even if the Force craves the dark, there can be no balance if the light is extinguished completely."

"The Jedi cannot survive the tide that is yet to come," Dooku growled. "Save yourself and accept that, come to the Sith. We would appreciate your talents more than the Jedi ever have."

Qui-Gon smiled slightly, a sad, secretive thing. "You may be right about that. But no matter what I wish, the Force has guided me to the light for a reason. I will not deny its will, not now, not after all this time, not after all the pain that following it has caused. I believe it will lead me to set things right."

Both men winced as the flow of the Force violently shifted to the sound of crazed laughter, and the older men shifted, their sabers stabbing and slicing with swift, precise strikes as they moved around to see the fury of Darth Lumis, gripped in the claws of madness as he bore down upon the centered and focused Anakin Skywalker. Dooku sneered, his attention snapping back to his former student when he felt the Jedi's blade arch far too close to his face.

"Anakin Skywalker is going to die here today," Dooku growled, and Qui-Gon's face hardened, his blue eyes narrowing as he looked into the face of his Master, so changed from what he remembered by time and by the Dark Side's touch. "You are too. Obi-Wan said not to kill you, but I see no other way to victory here. You will fight until we are slain, and therefore, you _must_ die."

That small, secretive smile graced the Jedi's lips again as he moved out fo the way of a downward slash, his blade sliding over the red and up the hilt toward Dooku's hands, and the Sith quickly twisted the blade to avoid being cut. "I bet that isn't what Obi-Wan said," he whispered, his smile deepening when he saw confusion on Dooku's face. "He wouldn't have said not to kill me. He said you _couldn't_."

"That's the same thing," Dooku growled, and Qui-Gon just grinned.

"It _really_ isn't."

Dooku had enough. With a snarl of rage, he drew deep of the Dark Side and redoubled his efforts, striking at the Jedi Master with everything he had, the arrogance of the Jedi enraging him into blind wrath. He pushed his body far beyond its limits, could feel the energy and the stamina draining from him, and felt new power surging through him again as his wrath rose. The Masters blocked and dodged, stabbed and slashed, the red clashing with blue and showering the area with sparks. Kenobi's insanity had stirred the Dark Side to terrifying new heights, and Dooku drank deeply of its power, strengthened by the other Sith Lord's strength. He slashed at Qui-Gon, the blue blade circling his, and the Jedi lunged forward, stabbing toward the Sith Lord, but instead of moving out of the way to block, Dooku had sidestepped and moved in, causing Qui-Gon to overreach just slightly, but it was enough. The Jedi couldn't correct his mistake in time, and before he could turn to meet the Sith that was suddenly behind him, pain shot through him, heated the very air he breathed as the red blade pierced through his back and extended out before him, the fatal dead center that Maul had tried to hit but missed so many years ago.

Pain ripped through Obi-Wan, fierce and intense as the Force howled around him, screaming in agony as he did, the roar of the Dark Side the only thing in his ears as he watched Anakin Skywalker, his eyes wide and his mouth opened as he screamed, his attention torn away from the Sith Lord as he watched helplessly as Dooku's blade slew his Master. Obi-Wan couldn't think, couldn't feel, could see nothing but Darth Tyranus before him, Qui-Gon impaled upon his blade, the Jedi Master shivering as his lightsaber dropped to the ground, his eyes closing as his life quickly faded from him. Qui-Gon Jinn was dead, his life ended in a swift, perfect strike. Obi-Wan didn't know how long he watched, but it felt frozen before him, time stopped as the Force suddenly became silent, the roaring ceased, and slowly, _slowly_ , the silence was broken by the sound of heavy breathing, monotonous and regulated, dreadful and awful and so, _so close_. The red blade retracted, and Qui-Gon fell to his knees, his posture gradually slumping, and he slowly fell. Nobody saw it when it happened, but when the Master's body hit the ground, it had _vanished_.

Dooku stared at the ground where Qui-Gon's body should have been, nothing but his lightsaber on the ground where he should have fallen. It was... _impossible_. Qui-Gon Jinn was dead, but there was no evidence of his passing, nothing to show for the murderous deed he had committed, and it took a moment in his shock for him to realize that he may have made an _awful_ mistake. Qui-Gon had said he couldn't be killed, a claim Dooku had mistaken for arrogance, but now he believed it. He didn't know if Qui-Gon had somehow evaded death, or simply transcended it, but the deep foreboding he felt made him believe that whatever it was, he had just helped the Jedi achieve power far beyond his comprehension, the indomitable will of the light made manifest to stand against the oncoming storm, not just in opposition, but to survive it.

In his shock, he didn't see it coming, didn't _feel_ it coming, but he felt it when it happened, and saw it after it was too late. There was pain, thick and sharp and heavy deep within him, not the kind that he drew power from, not the kind that the Dark Side thrived upon, but the kind that sapped his strength, the kind that made him feel weak and old and tired, eighty three years of life sitting heavy upon his shoulders as it never had before. The Force left him, faded into nothing, and it left him frail, deprived of the vitality to life his elderly body, the exertion he put forth in the fight with Qui-Gon weighing heavily upon him, the exertions of a young man preformed by one that should have been far too old to do so, aided by the Force before, but now that aid was gone. Before his eyes closed, before he dropped to the ground, Dooku looked down to see a red lightsaber piercing out of the left side of his chest, his heart impaled upon Obi-Wan's blade. As he fell, he thought it fitting that a Sith should end the Sith, and when he lay dead upon the ground, his body did _not_ vanish.

Obi-Wan stared vacantly at Dooku's body, his own thin form wracked with unconscious twitching and shuddering as the Dark Side drew in vast amounts of power from the death of the other Sith Apprentice. It was as intoxicating as it was terrible, and Kenobi felt his power swell, rise to heights he never thought imaginable, but it felt hollow. All he could hear was the heavy breathing drawling closer with each slow, torturous breath, all he could see before his eyes was the face in flames, its eyes blazing red and gold, it's mouth opened wide in silent screams of pain and anguish. The warnings of the Force were becoming reality as fool after fool worked to undo everything the Force had planned. Qui-Gon was supposed to live. Qui-Gon wasn't supposed to even be able to die, he was supposed to be _immortal_! And yet...

When Obi-Wan closed his eyes, the visions and the fires of madness dancing before him even then, he could _feel_ Qui-Gon's presence in the Force, strong and vibrant and painfully bright, just as it had always been. Death had not diminished it at all when it should have. Death should have taken the Force out of the man, should have returned him to the waters of the Force's eternal flow, the fire snuffed out, but never truly gone, simply part of something else. But that isn't what had happened. Qui-Gon was still... _Qui-Gon_. He didn't understand. He _couldn't_ understand, it was madness, all of it, and deep inside him, he knew this simply to be a product of his insanity, the Dark Side warping and twisting his understanding as it sank it's teeth into his neck, dug its claws deep into his arms, took control of his every movement in his consuming madness. Obi-Wan reached his hand out and silently called Qui-Gon's lightsaber - _his_ lightsaber - to his hand, the blade igniting with a low thrum of brilliant blue, and it felt warm and natural and familiar in his hand. His red blade clutched lightly in his other fist, Kenobi turned to Skywalker, his golden eyes blazing with fury and madness and murder.

Anakin felt everything within him come crashing down as he watched Dooku murder his Master. Qui-Gon was his best friend, his greatest ally, his confidant, his kind and understanding father, _all of it_. Everything Anakin was, everything that had ever been good about him was because of Qui-Gon Jinn, and he was _gone_. He felt unbalanced, reeling as he helplessly lost his focus, his footing in the Force, and he could feel the light fading, could feel the warm comfort of the Force become dark and cold, a freezing chill that sunk into the heart of him and filled him with darkness. There was _nothing_. His support was gone, his powerful connection was severed, the strong river of the Force that flowed between them only a moment before had dried up into nothingness, any light at all unable to pierce the impenetrable darkness that he could feel rising inside him. He and Qui-Gon had leaned on each other during this entire ordeal, and now that he was gone, Anakin felt himself scrambling for balance he knew he would never find again.

There were whispers inside his mind, soft at first and growing increasingly louder, a soft, smooth coaxing, a light, freezing touch upon his consciousness that promised him power, promised him victory, promised him balance, promised him _everything_ so long as he submit to his anger, feel it cold and strong and rushing within him. It was the promise of a constant companion, as deep as the Force and far, _far_ stronger if only he were to embrace it. He could feel it calling, could feel the power rising in him, could feel his focus returning as he looked at Obi-Wan Kenobi holding Qui-Gon's blue blade in his filthy, _bloody_ hands, and he knew what he needed to do. With a shudder of rage, Anakin embraced the cold in the Force and felt his power erupt into a storm of raw strength, cold and uncompromising, and all he could think about was the last Sith that stood in the room and how satisfying it would be to pry that saber from his cold, dead fingers. Obi-Wan had no right to that blade. That weapon belonged to Anakin, and he would take what was rightfully his.

It began again when gold eyes met pale, ice blue, but it was not like before. Unbridled insanity clashed with untethered fury, the two combatants more powerful than they had ever been, their weapons moving so fast they left long trails of red and blue light, their movements so swift that they appeared as nothing but a blur of undefined movement. There was focus only in that the two men could see, could hear _nothing_ but each other, their movements wild and random and dangerous, reckless to the exclusion of their own safety, and only the grip of the Force that each employed kept them out of the way of fatal strikes, but all others got through. Within a very short time, both men were tattered and bleeding, burns covering their bodies where the other saber had grazed, the skin seared and smoking and ripping their bodies with pain that only served to fuel their rage.

Palpatine frantically shook Tarkin, the man groaning as consciousness slowly returned, the Chancellor keeping his eyes on the bitter enemies. This wasn't a fight either of them would win, that much was obvious. They wouldn't stop until the other was dead, and as the fight dragged on, it became obvious that they would slay each other, but neither would be the first to fall. It had to end, and it had to end now.

"Wilhuff," Palpatine said in a frantic whisper as the Admiral sat up, and the Chancellor thrust the man's datapad into his hands. "The shields are down, this ship is going to be destroyed." Tarkin bit his lip and looked at the screen, eyes blurry as his dazed mind struggled to focus. He looked over the crates, squinting as he saw the blur of red and blue that was the Jedi and the Sith, and handed the datapad back to Palpatine.

"We're linked up to General Skywalker's droid," he quietly explained as he slammed his hand on the control console in the wall by the elevator and drew his blaster pistols. "Tell him to send a message to the _Vigilance_ , tell them to send Clone Captain Rex in for an immediate pick-up. Bring his best pilots and an escort and have them meet us in the closest hangar bay to our present location." The Chancellor nodded, his eyes wide with fear and understanding, and Tarkin stood, groaning as his body protested the movement. He looked out at the room, the blur that was Anakin and, presumably, Kenobi, a smirk of intense satisfaction sliding across his face when he saw that Dooku lay dead, and then confusion when he saw that Qui-Gon Jinn was gone.

He shook his head. It didn't matter. If the Jedi was not here, they were leaving without him. Nothing would get in the way of the successful completion of this mission. He pointed his pistols, took aim, and fired rapidly at the two fighters, and their blazing pace stopped long enough for Tarkin to actually _see_ who he was shooting at. With Obi-Wan in sight, he unloaded the blasters at the enraged Sith, the twin lightsabers effortlessly blocking and deflecting the plasma, and Tarkin had to dive out of the way to avoid being struck when several of his bolts flew back at him.

" _Anakin_!" he shouted, and his General's attention snapped to him long enough to see pale, blue eyes glowing furiously in the low light. "Anakin, we need to go! The shields are down, we're out of time!"

" _I'm going to kill him_!" Skywalker shouted, throwing himself once again at the laughing Sith Lord, and the fight was stopped again by more suppressing fire from the Admiral. Kenobi snarled in anger, his hand raised to command the Force to destroy the nuisance, but Anakin's lightsaber swept at him, and with a snarl of fury, he was forced to ignore the Admiral in favor of the more important threat. Tarkin began shooting again, disrupting the fight for the third time.

"Anakin, we are _all_ going to die if we stay here a moment longer! We need to run _now_!" Skywalker looked at the Sith Lord, Kenobi cursing and snarling in rage as he knocked back bolt after bolt of suppressing fire, and a sharp tug deep in the back of his mind pulled Anakin out of his furious rage. Tarkin was right. Howling with fury, the Jedi turned and ran, Tarkin covering his escape with rapid fire from twin blasters that was enough to slow Kenobi down just long enough for Anakin to leap onto the elevated platform and rush into the elevator where a shaking, terrified Palpatine stood holding the door. Tarkin rushed in when Skywalker made it to safety, and the door hissed closed just as Kenobi's raging form came into view.

They exited the elevator soon after and entered another, just in case the Sith Lord was following them, and from there, Anakin helped the terrified Chancellor and the limping, injured Tarkin make it to the safety of the hangar where Rex and Jedi Master Saesee Tiin were waiting with their means of escape. R2 had already been loaded on, and when the dreadnaught began to rumble and shake, smoke and flames clearly visible outside the open doors of the hangar, Anakin pushed Tarkin and Palpatine onto the ship as fast as he could. With the valuable cargo loaded and the master pilot Saesee Tiin to fly them to safety, Anakin sat in the hold with Tarkin and Palpatine, his knees drawn to his chest and his eyes closed. He didn't need to see their flight away from the doomed dreadnaught, didn't need to see the Separatist fleet in ruins, didn't need to see the safety of Coruscant swiftly approaching. He knew they'd make it safely back, but in the end, it didn't matter. Dooku was dead, the war likely over, and if not immediately, it would be _very_ soon. The head had been cut off the snake, and soon, the body would die. But none of it mattered, because Qui-Gon Jinn had not lived to see it.

He opened his eyes when he felt Palpatine's hand, gentle and comforting, upon his knee. "I saw what happened," he said softly. "I am so... _deeply_ sorry for your loss. The Jedi Order will not be the same without Master Jinn."

"No..." Anakin choked. "It won't."

"We'll avenge him, Anakin," Tarkin said, his usually hard clip touched with something softer, and Skywalker nodded.

"Yes. Revenge. On _all_ of them. I'll destroy them all, not just Kenobi."

"Do you think he escaped?" Palpatine asked, his thin voice still shaking, and Anakin's eyes narrowed as hatred swelled within him.

"He's alive," he growled. "I can _feel it_."

Tarkin nodded. "We'll do it together, General. As soon as we're cleared for duty, we'll make up a plan and hunt those bastards down."

Anakin responded with a soft grunt of affirmation and closed his eyes. For a moment in the silence, he thought he heard the voice of his Master, soft and faint and calling his name, and his heart leapt, his body twitching as he moved to answer him, but he stopped suddenly, his face cold and hard and angry as pain and grief pierced through him. Qui-Gon was _dead_ , struck down by Count Dooku, and immediately avenged by Obi-Wan Kenobi, a vengeance that by all rights belonged to Anakin. That Qui-Gon's body disappeared was irrelevant. It was confusing and inexplicable, but he had seen him die, had felt the Force tremble when the blow was struck, and he was _dead_ , whether a body was left behind or not. He slammed the door on the voice, and it was immediately silenced, the void his Master left filling with the cold and the dark, and with a shivering sigh, Anakin laid down on the ground and embraced it.


	101. The Balance

Jedi hopes, for the first time since the start of the war, were up, and confidence was at an all time high. The staggering loss of the Separatists at the Battle of Coruscant left millions of battle droids broken and mangled in the streets, and bits and pieces of destroyed ships rained down constantly, the debris lighting up the sky with thousands of shooting stars as they burned up in the atmosphere. The Separatist fleet was in tatters, and most importantly, Count Dooku, leader of the Separatist movement, was dead. His body had not been recovered, but reliable Confederate news feeds confirmed it, as did Chancellor Palpatine, who bore witness to the man's death. Also dead was Pong Krell, fallen Jedi and supposed apprentice to Dooku, and the Jedi, though saddened by the loss, were glad to see another Sith menace out of the galaxy. Suddenly, the explosion of Sith in the galaxy was drastically reduced back down to manageable amounts.

The loss that touched them all, however, was Qui-Gon Jinn, yet another Master and member of the Council slain by Sith evil. The body wasn't recovered either, but they didn't need it. Yoda had felt his death in the Force, though the tiny Grandmaster had seemed confused, almost bewildered by it, as if he simply didn't understand what had happened, which was a rare thing for the Jedi to see in the diminutive creature. It was a heartbreaking loss, though they would push through, as they always had. After all, his death had turned Obi-Wan Kenobi against Dooku, which had resulted in the Sith Lord's death. What this meant for the future was uncertain, but with the death of one Sith, it seemed very plausible that Kenobi would turn on his Master as well.

Obi-Wan had escaped, of course, as had General Grievous, but it seemed to be of no consequence. The Confederacy was falling apart with Dooku's death. The power of his personality had been what bound them all together, and without him, the remaining leaders seemed to be scrambling and struggling for power, and with their fleet in ruins, things weren't looking good for the Separatist cause. The war wasn't over, not yet, but before it had seemed endless, and now there was a clear end in sight. All they needed to do was sweep up the remainder of the mess. All that was really left was General Grievous, Barriss Offee, Quinlan Vos, and Obi-Wan Kenobi, and of those, only Grievous and Kenobi really mattered. With them gone, there would be nothing left for the Separatists to do but surrender.

Anakin didn't care, didn't feel the sense of accomplishment that the other Jedi did. All he could feel was the cold and bitter, bitter rage as he stood in the Council chamber, his eyes fixed on Qui-Gon's empty seat as Chancellor Palpatine and extolled the virtues of the young Jedi Knight whose daring rescue had saved his life and helped bring the war closer to the end. He had even recommended that Skywalker should take the fallen Qui-Gon's seat on the Council, which got his attention for a moment, but he hardened quickly again. Palpatine was right. He _should_ have that seat. As Qui-Gon's student and as the one that had helped secure the victory against the Separatists in the Battle of Coruscant, it was his _right_ to sit there. No Jedi had his strength, his raw talent, his overwhelming power in the Force. Not a single one of them could have stood against Obi-Wan in the way he did and lived. He deserved to be leading them, _should_ be leading them, but he knew it wouldn't happen. The Masters were too stubborn, too foolish, and without Qui-Gon's wisdom, they were _lost_.

He looked around the room at the Masters that sat in attendance, via hologram or in person, and he felt the cold grip him with loathing. Aayla Secura, her blue projection flickering as she leaned over and excitedly talked to Kit Fisto, the Twi'lek still out in the galaxy hunting her former Master. Seasee Tiin sat, his head bowed and his visage somber, in the seat that had once been his, his valor in the Battle of Coruscant proving without a shadow of a doubt the strength of his convictions and his loyalty to the Jedi. Depa Billaba sat trying to calm her excitable Padawan, the young teen bouncing on the balls of his feet in his excitement at having participated in his first battle, and Anakin had to look away. The youthful enthusiasm reminded him too much of Ahsoka, also lost to the Jedi. But mostly he looked at Luminara, her face drawn and pale, the strain clear upon her. They had always been three, Luminara Unduli, Quinlan Vos, and Obi-Wan Kenobi. Then Obi-Wan was gone, and the grieving Qui-Gon had stepped in to take the place of his student among his grief-stricken friends. Now, Quinlan had fallen to the Dark Side, and Qui-Gon lay dead, and only Luminara remained. Even her Padawan was gone, lost to darkness like the others. Anakin wondered how long it would be before she fell as well.

His business concluded, Palpatine bowed, wished the Masters wisdom moving forward, and laid a hand on Anakin's shoulder, quietly gave him his deepest sympathies for his loss, and reminded him that his door was always open should he need a sympathetic ear. Anakin nodded and thanked the elderly man, and with a small smile, Palpatine left the Council chamber, leaving Anakin to stand alone with the Masters. He stood in silence, shifting his weight from foot to foot and wincing as he did so, the aches and pains in his body sharp and uncomfortable. In their final engagement, Kenobi had hurt him much more than he had thought, and it wasn't until he had returned to Coruscant that he had felt the agonizing pain of burning skin, had seen the long cuts and charred slashes that covered his body. He didn't have many scars before. The Force had kept him safe, and there was rarely an opponent he met that was his equal, but Obi-Wan _was_ , and the extended fighting had left its toll.

"So," Mace said, his hands folded in front of his face, "Chancellor Palpatine thinks you should serve on the Council. He trusts you, and he believes your value to the Order is unmatched."

Anakin shrugged. "He's right." Mace frowned, and it just made Anakin feel indignant. " _What_. It isn't my fault that what he says is true. No Jedi has the military record I have, and you wouldn't have taken me in for training when I was too old for it if I _wasn't worth it_." He look a deep breath and held Windu's gaze. "I _should_ be on the Council."

"Nobody is doubting your skills and your value to the Jedi Order," Mace said softly. "But we are not appointing you to the Council because Chancellor Palpatine recommended it."

Anakin clenched his jaw tightly. He _knew_ this would happen, but he felt a rush of anger fill him anyway.

" _Why not_."

"Uh...because we elect our own members?" Mace said, questioning and confused. The boy was grieving, so it was natural for him to exhibit anger, even if it was misplaced. His Master questioned everything as well, so this was expected.

"Defying the Chancellor is defying the Republic we are sworn to serve," Anakin growled, and held up a hand when Mace rose angrily from his seat. Even the excitable Padawan stopped to listen, drifting closer to his Master. "But _I get it_."

"Only Masters sit on the Council, Skywalker," Mace said firmly, and the defiant knight just shrugged.

"Make me a Master. I deserve it."

"That is _not_ for you to decide," Mace snapped, watching as defiance and anger flitted across the Jedi's face. "We didn't bring you here to argue about your perceived injustices, Skywalker, we're here to talk about what we do now. The end of the war is in sight, but it isn't over yet. Kenobi is still at large, as is Quinlan Vos and Barriss Offee. If we form teams to hunt each of them down, we should be able to bring a swift end to them." The silent, contemplative Yoda suddenly grunted in disapproval, his ears drawing back in thought, and Mace stopped talking.

"Killed Dooku, Obi-Wan has," he quietly rasped. "Correct, Qui-Gon may have been. Destroy the Sith, Obi-Wan may."

"Obi-Wan _is Sith_ ," Anakin snarled. "He isn't going to destroy himself and as long as he lives, we are _all_ in danger! He needs to die, the sooner the better."

"Hidden from us, the Sith Master is," Yoda said quietly. "Knows him, Obi-Wan does. No chance we have of catching him without Obi-Wan's help. If discover him, we do, than too late will it be for the Jedi."

" _The Separatists are done_!" Anakin shouted. " _The war is over, the Sith plan has failed_!"

"Know that, do you?" Yoda asked, and Anakin shut his mouth tight and looked away. "In the Senate, the Sith Lord is, Obi-Wan told us long ago. Possible, this is, but certain, it is not. Certain, though, is Obi-Wan." He grasped his stick tightly in his hands. "Through him, clear is the path to the Sith. Two Sith he has killed already. Next, the Master may be."

"Which would make Kenobi the Sith Master," Anakin said slowly, his voiced raised as if speaking to someone who didn't understand Basic in the hopes that they would understand. "I fought him. I know what he's capable of, and we _don't_ want him having more of it, certainly not as Master of the Sith! We'll never kill him then!"

Yoda grunted his displeasure. "Victory, you will have over Obi-Wan?"

"Yes, I'm going to kill him."

"Think you death is victory?" Yoda shook his head. "No victory is there in death. For Jedi, for the Republic, victory there is in _compromise_."

"...you think you can _reason_ with him?!" Anakin said in disbelief. "I saw him, Master Yoda, Kenobi is _insane_! He only killed Dooku because he has _no_ idea what he's doing, he's out of control!"

"Know Obi-Wan's heart, do you?"

"He has no heart to know!"

Yoda frowned, thought, and slowly nodded. "Changing, the Force is," he said softly, eyes shut tight in concentration. "Darkness, there is. All around us. But ever flowing is the Force." He opened his eyes and looked around the room, a sad smile on his lips. "Hope, we must not lose. Light there may be in Obi-Wan. The key to destroying the Sith, he may be."

"Master Yoda," Anakin growled, "Qui-Gon Jinn wasn't right about everything, and he was _never_ right about Obi-Wan Kenobi! The Sith killed him, we should be _fighting_ them, not discussing the possibility of an _alliance_!"

"Killed Qui-Gon, did Obi-Wan?" Yoda asked, and Anakin flushed deeply.

"...no."

"Avenged him, he did." Yoda pointed his stick at Anakin. "Betrayed by Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan believed he was, and avenged him anyway, he did. Lives, Obi-Wan does, inside Darth Lumis. Find him, we must."

"I will find him," Anakin growled dangerously. "And when I do, I'm going to kill him." He didn't wait to hear what the Masters had to say. The furious Jedi Knight turned and stormed out of the room, striking call button for the elevator so hard he thought the screen may crack. He needed to get to the Grand Republic Medical Facility to check on Tarkin. _He_ at least supported his desire for revenge, the need to destroy every last one of those Separatist scum, the burning drive to murder the last of the Sith. Palpatine would support him too, he was certain of it, and if he did, it wouldn't matter what the Jedi said. With one word by the Chancellor, Anakin would be dispatched to end the war and take no prisoners. The Jedi's position _disgusted_ him. Compromise with the Separatists was unthinkable, and making peace with a _Sith Lord_ was even worse. The whole thing reeked of Sith influence, of disloyalty to the Republic they were sworn to serve. The Jedi, it seemed, were _corrupt._ He'd just need to speak to Palpatine. The Chancellor would fix it.

His swift stride through the empty halls of the Temple and was stopped suddenly when he was grabbed from behind by a pair of thin, familiar arms, and he felt a rush of warmth flow through him, the first time since Qui-Gon died that he had felt anything but cold. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her around, wrapping his arms around her in a crushing grip and refusing to let go, the feel of her soft and comforting, a thing he desperately needed, but could not get from the cold, detached Jedi.

"What are you doing here?" he quietly asked, looking around to make certain nobody was there, and gratefully, they were alone. He took her by the hand and quickly pulled her in the direction of his room. They weren't far away.

"I had to see you," she whispered, following swiftly at his side. "As soon as I knew you were back, I came here, I'm sorry, I _had_ to."

"It's alright," he said, stopping outside his door and quickly opening it. "I'm glad you came." He smiled at her as she stepped inside, and he swiftly followed, locking the door behind him. He embraced her again, kissing her softly on her lips, and he moaned softly for the contact, whimpered in yearning when she broke away.

"I heard about Qui-Gon," Padmé said softly, her brown eyes large and wet and deep with emotion. "Anakin, I am _so_ sorry. I know he was like a father to you, and..." Her voice wavered, cracking with emotion as tears ran down her cheeks, and Anakin held her tighter, his hand in her thick brown hair. It didn't help. Nothing would _ever help_. But she was trying, and that was enough.

"He died fighting the Sith," he whispered, not trusting his quivering voice enough to talk any louder for fear that his overwhelming emotion would overcome him. "He fought to the end like a true Jedi Master, the best I've ever known..." Padmé sniffled and buried her face in the folds of his robes.

"I can't believe he's gone...he was always such a good friend to me." Padmé looked up, ran her hand over his cheek and smiled softly. "I have...news." Anakin instantly tensed, holding his breath. As of late, no news had been good news. He felt the cold creep back in. But the woman smiled, soft and secretive and nearly bursting with joy, and it was infectious. Anakin found himself leaning in, waiting for her to tell this secret news. "I'm pregnant."

Anakin found himself staring like an idiot, hearing the words, but not exactly understanding them. Slowly, a smile spread across his face. _Pregnant_! He was going to be a father! He and his wife had come together to make a _child_. It was amazing, and he could feel the warmth spread through him, could feel every fiber of his being aching and yearning with love for this child, and couldn't wait to hold it in his arms. He would spoil the child _senseless_. He _knew_ everything was going to be alright between them, just knew it. First marriage, and now a child. They would be a _family_ , never to be divided, not by anything. He reached out and felt her through the Force and grinned broadly when he found that she _had_ changed. It was slight, subtle, but there was an undercurrent of something else in the Force within her. _His child_. He wondered if it would have his Force sensitivity. He hoped so. He was going to teach it _everything_ about the Force. He'd always wanted to have a Padawan when he was ready, and in a few years, it looked like that would become a reality.

His smile faltered slightly, fading from his face into an expression of concern. The Jedi would _never_ allow it. All Force sensitive children born were detected and taken, property of the Jedi Order. Family ties were forbidden, and they would _never_ allow him to train his own child. It fostered too much attachment, undermined the emotional distance that the Jedi taught. And worse, the entire Order would _know_. They would all know about his relationship with Padmé, his _marriage_ , his love for her deep enough to make a child in defiance of the Jedi Code. He would _never_ be a Master, not ever, not if they found out. Worse, he could be expelled from the Jedi Order, never to be allowed to return again. Being a Jedi Master like Qui-Gon was all he ever wanted, and this stood to ruin that all. That wasn't to say he didn't want this child. He did, just as much as he wanted Padmé, but it was a complication he didn't need, not with all that was going on with the war, with the Jedi, with the Sith. And speaking of...

The concern faded into the cold familiarity of jealousy, and as he looked at his lovely wife, he saw _him_. Obi-Wan Kenobi, eternally young and _just_ as Padmé remembered him from before he had fallen. He remembered the shadow of his grip upon her, could see in his mind their passions, rough, mindless and animalistic, an expression of pure lust and little more, but the motivations didn't matter. Maybe she was forced to, maybe it was on her own, but the fact of the matter was that Padmé had been to bed with the enemy, had taken him deep inside her, and it was foolish to think that they had been _cautious_ in their heedless rutting. And Qui-Gon said it would happen again. Even after they had been wed, he saw them together in his mind, tormenting him like some endless nightmare of moans and breathless begging for more, and Anakin knew that dreams weren't always just dreams. The thought hit him hard, and once it entered his mind, he could think of nothing else. _The child could belong to Obi-Wan_.

He wanted to say _anything_ other than he did, but when Anakin finally managed to speak, he choked a bitter, "Who's the father?"

Disbelief flashed across Padmé's face for a moment before her eyes narrowed in anger, her entire being screaming in offense, and with a sigh, she closed her eyes and calmed, resignation, understanding and not a small amount of shame settled inside her, and it made Anakin _sick_. The flash of emotions said it all. She must have been with Kenobi after they had been married, or she wouldn't have reacted in this manner. She should have reacted in _any way_ but this. She should have hugged him, kissed him, told him that _of course_ the child was his, but no. Padmé Amidala understood her husband's doubts and she was _ashamed_. Anakin hadn't seen his wife for two months, not since they were married. The most logical explanation was that two months alone gave her plenty of time to spend with her lover, a mistress in the arms of a Sith Lord. _True_ , Anakin had been chasing Kenobi all over the galaxy, but when he had thought the man was flying for the Outer Rim, he had been with the Separatists attacking Coruscant. Kenobi didn't _have_ to be with his ships. He could have been anywhere. He could have been _here_ , groaning his release into Padmé Amidala and planting his seed within her.

The child was Obi-Wan's, it must have been, _had_ to be! Two months of being filled by the Sith Lord, two months of a mindless rush preventing her from protecting herself, _two months_ of sinister Sith satisfaction as he claimed what rightfully belonged to Anakin Skywalker. _Of course_ she was pregnant. After all of that, there was no way she couldn't be. The image of his family came crumbling apart, all hopes of training his son or his daughter dashed when he imagined the holding the newborn in his arms, the infant with the Sith yellow eyes of its father, corrupted and tainted by the Dark Side at its conception. He sat on the edge of the bed, his head swimming and suddenly nauseous. He was absolutely going to be sick. He could kill that child. It would be a mercy. And he could kill her too...

"It's your child, Anakin," she said softly, almost shyly looking at him, and Anakin could feel himself flush with joy and with anger. The child was his! But he didn't believe her. He went back and forth on this more than once, wanting to believe her, but finding he couldn't. It was impossible, it-

"How do you know," was his harsh, snarled response, and Padmé winced at both the tone and the words, but silently accepted them.

"I-I went to the medical lab the other day," she whispered, folding her hands behind her back. "I'm at two months, we made this child on our honeymoon..." She took in a deep breath and held it for a moment, her heart beating fast as she watched suspicions and joy and hate rush through her husband. "I... _understand_ your feelings, I do, which is why I got tested. _Please_ , Anakin, I don't know what to do..."

"Have you seen him again." Padmé winced, broke eye contact, and against her better judgement, nodded. She could _feel_ Anakin's wrath in the air and quickly raised her hands.

"To call it off, Anakin! I told him we couldn't do this anymore and he _agreed_!"

" _What_ , Padmé, so the evil Sith Lord suddenly grew a conscious?!"

"He isn't evil, he's-"

" _He's a dead man_ , that's what he is!" Anakin shouted, rising from the bed and grabbing Padmé by the shoulders, hateful blue eyes blazing and looking down into his wife's terrified face. "I'm going to tear his vile head from his shoulders for _everything he's done_!" he said, his voice high with tension, and his grip tightened. He wasn't just going to kill him. He was going to _murder him_. He was going to disarm him, catch him unawares, capture him, _torture him_ for everything he has done, for everything that he had taken from him. For killing Jedi. For tearing apart the Order. For fighting against the Republic. For _daring_ to set foot in his brother's home. For killing Dooku and depriving Anakin of the revenge he so rightfully deserved. For taking Qui-Gon's lightsaber, a weapon that now should have belonged to Anakin, not held in the hands of the vile Sith that betrayed his beloved Master. For Padmé, _especially_ for Padmé. For making her obsessed with him, for making her _want_ him, for taking her to bed, for even having the _possibility_ of being the father to her child!

Darkness rushed through him, raw and powerful and unrestrained, and for a moment, he could hear Padmé screaming, could see the woman he loved sobbing, her hands clutched over her swollen stomach, her body wracked with pain, and over her stood Obi-Wan, golden eyes glowing in the shadows of his face, his red lightsaber held in his hand. A moment later, and it was gone, and he found himself looking into large, terrified eyes, his hands grasping her shoulders so tightly that he could already see bruises forming. He could still hear the screams, _her_ screams, echoing all around him, pained and endless as she died. He shivered, closed his eyes and stroked her shoulders, pulling her back to him when she backed away. The child was his. He believed it, though the doubt still remained. It could _still_ be Obi-Wan's, still could be the vile, corrupted, _disgusting_ spawn of the Sith Lord. He could _never_ love that child, could never find it in him to love a creature that was Padmé's, but not his, put inside her by his most bitter enemy. But he could love her. He would _always_ love her. This wasn't her fault. It was Obi-Wan's... _Obi-Wan's_...

"Padmé..." he drawled sweetly, stroking her trembling shoulders. "Oh, _Padmé_ , don't be afraid..." He kissed her, not soft and gentle like he always did, but rough, claiming, his hand on the back of her head when she tried again to wriggle away. "I believe you...we aren't going to worry about this, alright?" he cooed, soothing her as best as he could, the touch of the Force on his fingertips, and slowly, the shaking girl began to relax. "We're going to be happy, and we're going to be together forever, and we're going to love and raise our child. And if it isn't _ours_ ," he growled, his hands tightening again around her shoulders, "I'll kill it and we'll _try again_."

She gasped in horror, and this time, she managed to pull away, but utter terror kept her frozen in place, her trembling hands resting over her stomach where Anakin's child lay. " _Anakin_ ," she said in a hushed whisper. "You don't mean that, you _can't_ mean that..."

"I _do_ mean it," Anakin said sweetly, stroking her cheek and smiling. "I would kill that Sith spawn in a moment to spare the world the evil that it would bring to it."

"Evil?! Anakin, it's a child, and _innocent child_!"

"It _isn't_ his, is it, Padmé?"

"N-no!"

"Then we have _no_ problem..." he whispered, pulling her in close and pressing her back onto the bed, the Jedi climbing on top of her and feeling the could pulse within him, filling him with the strength and power to protect the woman and the child that belonged to _him_. "I love you, Padmé," he said, his voice almost seeming to freeze in the air before the woman. "And when I kill Obi-Wan, _all_ our problems will be solved. _All of them_." And they would. What he had seen was a vision, he was certain of it. Padme's death, and Kenobi standing above her, the perpetraitor of the crime. He could save her. He _would_ save her, and with Obi-Wan death, she would live. They would be together. She didn't understand now, didn't understand the dangers, the _evil_ of the Sith, but she would come to agree that Obi-Wan Kenobi must die. She would understand. He would _make her_ understand.

* * *

_What did it mean to be a Sith alone_?

Obi-Wan frowned when the thought entered his mind. It had been drifting through his thoughts since he had returned to Raxus to sit on the Separatist Council in Dooku's place. He was certain it was his insanity speaking, but he had heard none of the heavy, pendulous breathing, felt none of the heat, saw none of the flames. He supposed he was simply getting used to being crazy. That had to be it. After all, he _wasn't_ alone, he still had Sidious. No Sith was truly _ever_ alone. And when he killed his Master, Quinlan would be his Sith apprentice, and one day he too would be destined to be slain by the one he trained. It was the way of the Sith. It had _always_ been this way since Darth Bane brought the wisdom of the Rule of Two.

He shivered in his seat, absently listening to the Council fight and argue over their next course of action. It was... _pathetic_. But it was his fault. In his fury, in his _insanity_ , he had slain Darth Tyranus for the death of Qui-Gon Jinn, avenging the Master that betrayed him, taking vengeance on a _Sith_ for a _Jedi_. And he was alone. Krell was expendable, but Dooku was, in some ways, like a father. Or a grandfather who adopted the child of his deadbeat, failure offspring. Like a deranged, cruel, murderous grandfather that, occasionally, was stirred to care about his mentally unstable grandson. Kenobi smiled softly, a light chuckle coming from him and immediately silencing the Council, the wide-eyed creatures looking fearfully toward him. Kenobi frowned. Dooku handled them better. Dooku handled _all of this_ better.

He waved a hand casually in the air. "Carry on." And they did, quietly, uncertain at first, but when no further sound came from the Sith Lord, they returned to their scheduled program of yelling at each other. He sighed, his cheek resting on his hand as his eyes casually looked over the datapad in his lap, Darth Bane's writings in Ancient Sith upon the screen. Now that there were only two, he felt it appropriate to catch up on his studies. Sidious had been pleased by the events of the battle over Coruscant, had praised his apprentice for his work, his strength in the Dark Side, his fierce determination, had sent wave after wave of searing, _blissful_ pleasure pulsing through his body, near orgasmic in its intensity when he told him what a _fine_ job he had done slaying Dooku.

It was almost as if Sidious had expected this to happen sooner, as if the Rule of Two had been in place this whole time, and the Master simply neglected to tell his apprentices' about it as a way of testing them. Obi-Wan would have thought this possible if Dooku wasn't so unbelievably important to the Separatist movement, but he supposed that the war could still limp along for a while longer without him. He didn't know how _he_ was going to manage without Dooku, though. A moment of madness, and he had killed his comrade at the single most inopportune time to do so. With Dooku, they could have killed Skywalker together, but _no_. Obi-Wan was _crazy_ , and crazy knew no master, heeded no rules, followed nothing but chaos and its own whims. And he was dead, Obi-Wan may have killed him anyway for killing Qui-Gon against his wishes, against the will of the Force itself. Perhaps his insanity was an instrument of the Force. Perhaps the Force had struck back against Dooku, instantly and without remorse, through the vessel of its will.

Obi-Wan stroked the lightsaber at his hip, the blade lost to him so long ago when he had left the Jedi, and now returned to his hand with the death of his former Master. It was... _odd_ to have the weapon back, but even odder was the mysterious circumstances surrounding Qui-Gon's death. There was _no body_. None at all, and when Obi-Wan closed his eyes and lost himself within the Force, he could still feel the old Master's presence, clear, defined, his energy not at all dissipated as it should have been, and by all accounts, he felt alive when Kenobi knew this not to be the case. Qui-Gon was slain aboard the _Invisible Hand_ , so...why did it feel like he was still alive. Still blinding in his presence, still carrying the weight of eternity within him?

If Sidious had any thoughts about Qui-Gon's mysterious death, he wasn't saying anything, which was _typical_. Sidious didn't have much time for his apprentice right now anyway, not with a war to win and an empire to build. The might of the Republic would be coming for him soon, and it wasn't a fight that the Separatists had any chance of winning. Victory wasn't the point, he supposed, but Sidious had told him to draw the war out. _How_ was he supposed to do that with a fleet in tatters, with a Council bickering constantly, with his greatest ally dead, with the threat of madness looming over him, with-

" _Obi-Wan_."

His eyes darted up, looked frantically around the room, and saw a dozen eyes staring at him in anticipation. His heart was racing. For a moment, _just a moment_ , he thought he heard Qui-Gon Jinn, but...it must have been the collection of filth gathered before him. " _What_ did you call me?" he growled, just to be safe, and General Grievous shifted by his side, the protective cyborg reaching for the lightsabers he kept under his cloak. Kenobi smiled. He controlled Grievous, so he controlled the Separatists. There was no question who their leader was.

"M-master!" Gunray squeaked, his voice comically high-pitched. "T-that is what we're supposed to call you, isn't it?"

"...yes." He placed his elbows on the table and leaned forward. "I wasn't listening, what is it?"

"Our next move," Wat Tambor said. "We cannot agree." Poggle the Lesser chimed in with some of the typical Geonosian chittering, and Kenobi rolled his eyes.

"Sith hells, _someone_ shut that bug up." More chittering, this time outraged and indignant. "He's a plan for you." Kenobi laid his hands flat on the table. "We go back to negotiations." The room fell silent. _Nobody_ agreed. "We can't win this war, do you want to keep fighting?" Obi-Wan asked. "I say we call a peace summit and get them to sit down and talk while they still fear us."

"They _don't_ still fear us," Grievous growled.

"Give me a few days to remind them that the death of one man doesn't mean the war is over. It won't take much, and then we try to reach for peace before we are forced to agree to an unconditional surrender."

"But-" one of the others began, but Obi-Wan was already rising to leave.

"In the meantime, gather the fleet and concentrate on our bigger battles. Kashyyyk, Mygeeto, Felucia, Cato Neimoidia, and Saleucami. Tambor, increase production on droids and dreadnaughts, I want a new fleet by the end of the week."

" _The week_!" the Skakoan gasped, his breathing heavy through his respirator. "Master, we-"

" _Press them_ , Tambor," Kenobi said as he begun to walk away. "I will steal us new ships, but I need you to compliment them." He rolled his eyes. "We can't have the _Republic_ supporting our victory." He left without another word, a plan quickly formulating in his mind. He'd have to call in the Mandalorians. Their Shadow King needed them.

He walked in silence to the hangar and walked up the ramp of the _Umbra_ , punched in the coordinates for Mustafar, and was on his way a moment later, the autopilot engaged as he sat in deep meditation, sinking within the Force and allowing the tide to carry him away. The visions came just as often as before, but there were less of them now. Still the face in flames, still the field of dead Jedi, the shadowed figure of Ahsoka Tano growing closer with each and every day, still the furious battle between Jedi and Sith on the burning world, still Padmé's children reaching for the holocrons. And now, there was blackness as well, infinite darkness punctuated by the monotonous, assisted breathing. He heard it everywhere, its sound an echo of warning throughout the Force. It seemed inevitable now. The future led to this grim conclusion by fools who damned the river of the Force and altered its course. They could have had an _empire_ , a thousand years of darkness built upon Dark Side, an Empire ruled by him and Satine with their beautiful son, a Mandalorian Sith Lord to carry the future forward. And now, there were left with _this_. Breathing and _nothingness_. The course of the Force was changing, shifting, he could _feel it_...

" _Obi-Wan_."

And there it was again. He looked around, his eyes glowing as he observed the calm sky, the waters mirror-still and black, the shores dark and thick with ash from his latest bout of madness. He heard it that time. He _knew_ he did. Breathing deep, he opened himself to the pull of the Force, warm and comforting, and though it still burned him, he did not look away this time. The waters slowly began to lighten, reflecting something on the opposite shore, a cloud of shimmering lights floating on the soft and gentle breeze. It was coming closer, drawing nearer, and Obi-Wan did not look away. He heard the voice again, and this time, he _knew_ he wasn't mad.

" _Qui-Gon_ ," he said softly, breathless, the very air kicked out of him like he had suddenly been struck. The lights flitted in the air, almost as if in an expression of joy.

"Yes," the voice said, echoing in Kenobi's mind, and he looked down. He couldn't look directly at it. "I completed my training, but it is...more difficult in practice. Give me a few months and I'll have it." There was a brief pause. "...has it been long? How long is a month? Time has no relevance here, it's... _confusing_."

"Oh, no, no, _no_ ," Kenobi snapped, looking up again at the spots of light and squinting. "You don't get to be casual about this, I _saw you die_."

The lights _scoffed_. "You know what I am, Obi-Wan, you _know_ I achieved immortality."

"Well, _yes_ , but I didn't think it was _real_! I thought...I-I thought it was just the Force protecting you!" He paused. " _How_. How did you do it."

"Study on maintaining consciousness after death." Qui-Gon said. "And Force Priestesses. Long story, look, the point is, you can't learn this. No Sith can." Kenobi frowned, and the lights danced furiously around, and Obi-Wan felt... _scolded_. "Give me time to acclimate to my new state and I _should_ be able to be more than a disembodied voice. Theoretically, I _should_ be able to take form."

Kenobi frowned. "Like a ghost." The lights stilled, than fluttered in amusement.

"Yes. _Exactly_."

"Well, this is _fantastic_!" Kenobi shouted. "Now I know I'm insane. Burning it all down, everything, urn it all, and then get _haunted by a ghost_. I avenged you, you know, you should be haunting someone else, not me!"

He was quiet for a moment, the lights still, and slowly, th heavy breathing began to sound again. With a growl, Kenobi waved his hand in the air, the still waters rippling as the darkness faded to be replaced by the image of Padmé's children. He sat petulantly upon the shore and thrust his feet into the water, the chill numbing his legs, the rippling sending little waved through the boy's outstretched hand, the girl's look of marvel. They were not his children, no, but he cared for their mother, promised to protect her, and it went beyond angering Anakin Skywalker. The Force took an interest in Padmé, and if not in her, in her children, so much so that it had nearly perfectly concealed them within the Force. He could sense them, but the two felt as one, their lives felt small and insignificant, untouched by the Force and its gifts, but he knew this not to be the case. The Force was strong in them, _uncommonly_ strong, and they were being hidden from... _what_.

The tide had turned to darkness, yes, but the Sith had been acting in defiance of the Force. If Sidious _truly_ intended to steal Anakin Skywalker from the Jedi, if his Master foolishly overstepped and reached for that which was not his, the greed of the Sith uncontent for _one_ vergence in the Force and grasping for the second...than Padmé's children may very well be the Force's way of biting back.

They were not his, of this he could be certain, but the children were hidden to all but him. The Force was pushing him toward Padmé, to the twins, and he would be a fool not to obey. He could raise these children, train them in the ways of the Force, make them formidable, too strong for even Sidious to conquer. They were not his son, the did not come from him, but from his hated enemy, and yet...he felt he could cherish them as his own, raise them as he would have raised his own son, love them as any real father would. Aliit ori'shya tal'din. Family is more than blood, the Mandalorians say, and their culture, _his_ culture, has a strong tradition of adoption. If the Force willed this...it may have been meant to be. It was easier than stomaching the idea of making another child of his own, a child that would feel like a pale substitute for the son he lost, but this...he wanted these two. Looking at them eased his fevered mind, healed his madness, the Force itself preparing him for the task. He could do it. He could protect them. He _wanted_ to, and he wondered if Satine would have been proud.

"I tried to get through to Anakin," Qui-Gon said softly, the light drifting to the shore and hovering next to Kenobi. "He shut me out. There is too much darkness in him, more than I thought, so much more than I imagined..." He sighed. "The Jedi have diminished. I see it clearly now. It's no wonder so many of us have fallen without our notice."

Obi-Wan nodded absently. "A thousand years of corruption. A thousand years of light has left you blind and stumbling in the dark."

"Yes."

"...how much can you see?" The lights fluttered.

"Not everything. Not yet. There's a learning curve. In time, I will get through to Anakin. In time, I will reach out to Yoda. You were easy. You and I are already deeply connected." Kenobi frowned, kicking his legs and making the image of Skywalker's children -no, _his_ children - ripple with tiny waves.

"I am more in the dark than your student."

"And yet, you follow the will of the Force, as do I...as _did_ I." He chuckled softly. "We are on the same path, Obi-Wan. The brightest light casts the darkest shadows. We walk together in the flow of the Force." Kenobi said nothing, just looked at the vision in the water, and felt himself soothed. The fires were gone, at least for now. He would set out again on the path of destruction in the morning as soon as he gathered Quinlan and Barriss and set them on their task.

"...is Satine with you?" Kenobi asked, soft and distant and so unlike himself.

"...that isn't quite how this works. She has joined the Force. Her presence is...everywhere." It did nothing for his fallen student, and Qui-Gon could feel the pain, the grief, all the things the Sith felt, but also felt him focus on the children in the vision, the madness in his mind fleeing before them. "...they heal you," he said softly, and Kenobi absently nodded, but said nothing else. There was nothing else left to say. Insanity had been raging within him for months, and now, he had killed Dooku and failed to kill Skywalker because of it. It made him wild, unstable, and now, within the clarity of the Force, he had the sinking suspicion that Sidious was keeping him in that state on purpose. Insane enough to give him powers beyond his imagining, but also too wild, to scattered to use it. It made him easy to control, easy to send off balance, easy for his Master to defeat...

It had to be managed, the fires had to be put out, not just for a time, but for good. If Sidious was to be killed, if Kenobi was to rise as Master of the Sith, if he was going to kill Anakin Skywalker, he's have to regain his sanity. The Force had given him a way to do that, and if that meant being near Padmé and her children, so be it. The Will of the Force must be obeyed, and the Sith would be _his_.


	102. Secura

Quinlan Vos crouched in the underbrush, the jungles of Felucia hot and humid and filled with lush, vibrant flora and fauna, beautiful and dangerous. Since Dooku's death, Vos had been living high, promoted under the command of Obi-Wan to an Admiral of his fleet. The dreadnaught given to him, the _Enigma_ , was massive and brand new, only recently completed and immediately handed over to the fallen Jedi on the condition that he do one thing, and one thing only: draw Jedi attention to himself. It was an easy enough thing to do, and in the week after the Battle of Coruscant, Quinlan had won every battle he engaged in, had captured ships and killed Republic officers by the hundreds. He _would_ have killed the clones as well, and did end up having to kill a fair number of them, but Obi-Wan had requested they be taken alive as possible, and Vos was in no hurry to disappoint his crazy friend.

It only took Vos a few days to find himself hounded by a fleet led by the Star Destroyer _Intrepid_ , the sister ship of his own _Impavid_ , and he knew full well who was in command. _Aayla Secura_. His old student. They had been _so close_ , were so similar in many ways, and while the Twi'lek was good, Vos knew he was better. Kenobi had ordered him to draw out the Jedi, and _what_ a Jedi hunted him. He couldn't have asked for better. When Obi-Wan called his fleet to defend Felucia, Quinlan did as commanded, and Secura had followed. For days, they had fought in space above the jungle planet, the Jedi clearly emboldened by the Confederacy's perceived weakness, and the leapt on the opportunity to secure critical Separatist worlds. Vos wasn't going to lose easily, though, but the Republic force was _much_ larger than the Separatist, and they had quickly broken through to the planet's surface, the fallen Jedi forced to abandon the battle in space for one on the ground. That was fine. Vos was more at home planet side anyway. It allowed him to become the hunter.

Quinlan lowered himself closer to the ground and closed his eyes to keep the yellow glow from the shadows to alerting others to his presence. The Force on this planet was _strong_ , which allowed him to sense further and more accurately, but it also made his own dark presence easier to detect. At times like this, he wished he had his prodigious friend's ability to completely conceal his Force presence, but he wasn't sure if it was even a skill that could be taught. It may have been, since the Sith Master was said to have the same ability, but it was possible that Master and Apprentice were just... _similar_. He held his breath when he sensed movement nearby, quieted his mind as he saw the boots of the clone troopers moving past him a little ways off, and he smirked. Slowly, surely, the hunter was becoming the hunted. He just needed to be patient. Kenobi would be here soon.

He was presumed to be on Raxus running the war from his command center, but Kenobi had never been one to lead from a desk. His involvement so far since Coruscant had been minimal, the Sith Lord opting instead to submerge himself in the Force. _Why_ , Quinlan had no idea, but he spent a fair amount of time in his meditations while Quinlan made himself the center of attention, and when he fled to defend Felucia, Kenobi had promised to be there. And he would be, Vos knew. Even if it had been a few days since his feet had fallen on Felucian soil. Even if he had been running for days, leading Republic troops into ambushes and hiding in caves and trees and underbrush to avoid the Jedi that hunted him. Obi-Wan would be there. Kenobi had never let him down before.

Except for the time that he betrayed the Jedi and became a Sith Lord, but...that was neither here nor there anymore.

He was intently focused on the sound of the receding steps of the clones, the shouts of the Jedi as they searched for him, the feel of his former student, the feel of Aayla as she relentlessly hunted her Master. She was good. She had to be, having learned from him, but Quinlan was better, as the moment was showing. So intently focused was he that he didn't hear the soft wisp of the air move, and he tensed, nearly jumped out of cover when a hand took his lightsaber from his belt. He breathed a sigh of relief and settled back down into his position when he found himself looking into the golden eyes of Kenobi.

"If I were a Jedi," Obi-Wan whispered, "you'd be dead."

"If you were a Jedi, I'd have sensed you coming," Quinlan quietly retorted. "What took you so long?"

"We've been capturing ships and clones for nearly two weeks," the Sith said softly. "Nothing particularly notable, but enough to make them consider you a threat." Kenobi smiled when the Kiffar's chest puffed with pride. "It's time to break their confidence. I was capturing the armada surrounding the planet."

"What, the whole thing?" Vos said lightly, laughing as he punched the Sith in the arm, and Kenobi just looked displeased.

"No..." he hissed, disappointed and irritated. "One Star Destroyer, seven heavy cruises, and _many_ smaller vessels had to be destroyed. I have captured the rest, though."

Quinlan's jaw dropped. By the time he had fled planet side, there had been six Star Destroyers in orbit. He had thought Kenobi was _joking_ about capturing them. "What. Seriously?" he asked, breathless and in awe of the man who simply smirked his amusement. " _How_." Kenobi patted Quinlan's tattooed cheek.

"A Master _never_ reveals his secrets, Quin. But capturing a ship is a simple thing when they don't know I'm there. Cody and my Shadow Legion have been monitoring all communications between the ships and the ground while I captured and converted their crews." A sly grin spread across Quinlan's face.

"Is that how you captured _my_ ship and _my_ clones?"

"Oh yes." He shrugged. "I'm better at it now. Insanity has made me... _quite_ powerful." Kenobi closed his eyes and reached out through the Force, feeling for the life the planet teemed with, the deaths that occurred where organic and synthetic met in battle, the swirling of the Force around the Jedi that commanded it. "What is the Jedi strength here?"

Four Jedi Knights, three Padawans, and one Jedi Master in the form of Aayla Secura." He grinned broadly when Kenobi's eyes flashed with something sinister.

"They sent your student to hunt you?" Vos nodded excitedly, and Obi-Wan scoffed. "How terribly cruel of them."

"It's more likely she decided to hunt me herself." Vos sniffled. "The hot ones are _always_ trouble." A cocky smirk spread across Kenobi's lips.

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"Oh, _baby_ , I would let you take me right now if the screams wouldn't attract the Jedi's attention..."

"After we win here, lover," Kenobi drawled, his sharp eyes peering past Quinlan and at the distant clone company. "The four Jedi that are unaccounted for were on the Star Destroyers, but they're dead. I don't think we need to worry about reenforcements, Cody and Fett have been sending false reports back to the Republic. That should buy us time, but this honestly shouldn't take more than a few hours."

"You have a plan, Kenobi?" Vos asked softly, and the Sith's eyes narrowed in focus.

"Kill the Jedi. Kill the clones. Capture Secura." When Quinlan didn't acknowledge and the Sith felt worry, concern and reluctance coming from the man beside him, his eyes turned on him, blazing flames and anticipation, but not unkind, though the light was _harsh_.

"What will happen to her?" Vos asked softly, shuddering under his Master's gaze. "I mean...it's _Aayla._ I love that girl, and she really liked you. I don't-"

"I've need of her, Quinlan," Kenobi said forcefully, and the man beside him shivered. "In tact, as a Jedi. Trust me, I see no need to harm her. Her... _fair_ treatment will serve me better." Quinlan nodded. That settled it for him. He nudged the Sith and pointed out to where the company of clones stood. They couldn't see the Jedi from where they lay, but Vos _knew_ they were there. They had been hunting him for days, and had stayed together to ensure their success, but now, it was only serving to put all their targets in one spot.

"The second they see me, they're all going to attack." He surveyed the group, felt them through the Force and found them all to be tense, focused, and ready, even his slightest brush against them alerting them to the presence of something nearby. "That's _eight_ Jedi and a whole mess of clones, and they're already on high alert. I can't hide myself like you can." A slow, gleeful smile came to the Sith's lips, his eyes lighting in delight and youthful excitement, like a child who just received a gift.

"I've waited _so_ long to try this..." Kenobi mumbled, closing his eyes, breathing deeply as he spread his fingers and laid them upon the ground. "Something I learned from Shaak Ti..."

Quinlan shifted uncomfortably. He didn't fault Kenobi for what had happened to the Jedi Master, but it was... _awful_. Slave to the Sith Lord was one thing, the woman somehow coaxed into opening Jedi holocrons so that her Master could learn. But the Togruta had become a pleasure slave to a _clone_. A remarkable clone, yes, truly exceptional, but a clone none the less. The Master was worthy of more, and if it was her fate to service a man, it should have been the mighty Sith she was slaved to. However, in the short time he had seen her, Shaak Ti seemed to have her wits about her, not a captive broken to slavery, but a _willing_ one that seemed to hold a great deal of affection for Cody, came to treasure the time they spent together, even if most of it involved her legs wrapped tightly around his hips to pull him deeper inside her. But she deserved better. She deserved a _Sith Lord_. Hell, even _he'd_ be good enough for her.

Quinlan gasped softly when the plants around them began to shift, slightly at first, and then as if the flora possessed a mind of its own, squirming and swaying despite the heavy air and the lack of wind. And then, it began to grow rapidly, further concealing their position, and through the gaps, Vos could see the clones examining the rapidly changing vegetation. "How are you doing that?" Quinlan asked quietly, and the focused Kenobi smiled ever so slightly, his eyes closed in his focus.

"One of my holocrons is all about altering the environment. Be prepared to attack, you're going to have fog cover in a moment." Quinlan just stared, not exactly understanding what the Sith was saying until the air seemed to grow even thicker, heavier, his vision blurring as a thick mist very suddenly rolled in. Through the heavy air, he could see lightsabers swinging in a futile attempt to beat back the obscuring fog and the tangle of overgrown, snaking vines and plants around them. The Sith beside him indicated forward with his hand and promptly disappeared, melting into the shadows as if he were a shadow himself. Taking his lightsaber in his hand, Vos rushed forward as well.

There was chaos among the ranks as rapidly growing plants snared the clones, heavy mist limiting their visibility, the Jedi fighting the forces of nature as fiercely as they did any enemy of the Republic. Vos could hear them on their comlinks swiftly barking commands and the need for additional support on the ground, and he felt the panic that filled them when the coms returned nothing but static and silence. Their ships were lost to them, and they were only now discovering it. He saw a blue lightsaber suddenly ignite and swing down at one of the Jedi, the man falling with a sharp, pained scream before there was silence, and another followed soon after, shock on her face when Jedi blue was turned against them. Following the lead of the Sith Lord, Vos ignited his own blade and rushed toward the Jedi.

The Jedi in his path happened to be the Padawans, trying to be centered and brave, but the quaking of the Force, the swell of the Dark Side, the feel of death around them, the brutal severing of the connections to their Masters left them weakened and afraid. The Jedi, in their desperation to win the war, had been putting out Jedi too young and with a lack of talent simply to bolster their numbers. It had been a tragic requirement, and Quinlan now saw first hand what a terrible idea this was. He had been forced to take a Padawan as well near the beginning of the war when there were still initiates to draw from, but now...these had barely stepped out of being younglings. He wondered how Ahsoka was. If she was even alive. He'd have to ask Kenobi to find her.

His blade pierced through the third Padawan, and he barely had the time to dodge away, his green blade swinging around to clash with the hard striking blue of Aayla Secura, her beautiful face contorted with anger, the full weight of the Force behind her every swing, and Quinlan had _no_ idea how he was going to capture her. He shifted his focus to Kenobi for a moment and saw his red blade finally drawn as he fought against the last two Knights, his movements slow and easy, almost casual. The plants had stopped growing, the mist was fading, but the clones never attacked. They were on the ground, in the air, held tightly by the Force as their blood boiled within them. Quinlan could feel that they weren't dying. They were just _suffering_.

His attention swiftly shot back to his former student when her lightsaber grazed his arm, and he loudly cursed himself for his divided attention. It was a _huge_ mistake to take his focus off the dangerous Master. She was trained by him, after all.

" _Master_ ," Secura hissed, her voice laced with disgust, and the Kiffar grinned. "I've been trying to find you, Master. I had hoped your Padawan was wrong about you."

"What'd she say about me, sweetheart?" Vos drawled, leaning in and smirking, the blades hissing and sparking as they slid against each other.

"She said you fell to the Dark Side," she said, a curious, mischievous smirk on her lips. "Your eyes confirm at least that much, but I think we can save you."

" _Save me_?" Vos gasped. "Save me from _what_. Can you bring my Master back? Can you keep the woman I _loved_ from betraying me?" Fresh anger tore through Quinlan as he felt the wound on his heart rip open, pulsing and bleeding the Dark Side in thick, flowing streams and he lunged forward without warning, his attacks become fast and fearsome, and with a gasp, the Twi'lek staggered backwards in a hasty defense. Quinlan reached deep, drawing on the darkness to fuel his use of Vaapad, Mace Windu's deadly form of combat, and with fast, random strikes coming hard upon the Jedi, all Secura could do was retreat, her own blade swinging furiously to defend against the Master that taught her all she knew.

If he had been _anyone_ else, it would have been enough, but Quinlan Vos knew Aayla as well as she knew herself, and he knew exactly where her blade was going. With the random, vicious slashes of his own green blade, Vos feigned a strike low, predicted the rise of her elbow, the angling of her wrist, and with a swift motion, he turned his blade away from her and drew his weapon back toward him, catching the blue blade along his and with a swift twist of his wrist, the Jedi's saber was torn from her hand. Vos reached out, called the woman's lightsaber to his hand, and swiftly kicked out at her legs, catching her knee and sending her crashing to the ground. Labored, heavy, _furious_ breathing accompanied him as he crossed the blue and green blades, thrust the points into the ground beside the Twi'lek's slender blue neck, and pulled the hilts apart, the cross of the blades descending along the length of the lightsabers and stopping as they crossed just above her exposed throat.

"Do you want me to choose, Aayla?" Vos growled, his red and yellow eyes blazing with fury as he glared at her. "Is that it? You want to hear me choose? I choose _Obi-Wan_." A small, faint smile tugged on her lips, her beautiful face filling with sudden hope and joy, and her smile widened.

"Choosing Obi-Wan isn't the same as choosing the Sith."

A sharp, shrill scream carried on the humid air, and Quinlan's eyes shot over to where Obi-Wan had been fighting to see the Sith Lord, his sabers clipped back to his belt and leaning against one of the towering fungus trees the planet was famous for, one of the remaining Jedi impaled upon the blade of the other. The blue weapon powered off, and the woman collapsed upon the ground, shaking slightly as the last of her life left her, her murderer coming to kneel before the Sith, his head bowed and leaning into Kenobi's touch when he bent down to stroke the long, thin tendrils of the Nautolan's head.

Quinlan grinned wickedly when he looked back at Secura. "Or maybe it is." A firm hand clasped his shoulder, and Vos looked at his friend, sighing in satisfaction when he felt the Sith's pleasure through the Force. The enthralled Nautolan Jedi trailed behind him, his wide eyes a mix of submission and bliss, and he felt Aayla shiver, her eyes fixed on her comrade. All around them, the clones were groaning, their hands clutched to their heads, some rising, others left squirming upon the ground, and Quinlan felt his chest tighten with tension and a sudden rush of fear when he heard the high whine of blasters priming. He glanced to his side to see the clones slowly beginning to rise, their weapons held ready and primed and aimed to shoot. He quickly glanced at Obi-Wan, who hardly seemed to notice them.

"Hello, Aayla," Kenobi said almost warmly, and he softly hit the Kiffar's shoulder. "Quin, you _shame_ me. Turn off your weapons, Aayla is our guest." Quinlan looked back at his friend like he was crazy, eyes darting back to look as more clones rose, more clones surrounded them, more clones raised their weapons, and yet, the Sith remained calm. _Fearless_. Swallowing the dread he felt, Vos thumbed the sabers off, but kept them held tightly in his hand, ready to switch them back on at a moment's notice. "I'm pleased to see you made it to Knighthood," Kenobi said softly, watching as the Jedi slowly, cautiously sat up, looking around and taking in her situation. She smirked when she saw the clones, weapons ready and awaiting their orders. She wasn't beaten yet.

"Beyond that," she replied. "I'm a Master of the Council now."

"On the _Council_!" Kenobi gasped, laughing as he looked at the Twi'lek. "Oh, this is better than I imagined!" He smiled and extended his hand to the Jedi. She did not take it. "Come with me, Aayla," Obi-Wan said, and Secura felt herself falter, waver when she looked at him, his face so like the Padawan, and then the Knight she used to know so, so long ago. It was... _identical_ , aged not a day from that time, and she felt her heart tug toward him, felt compelled to rush to him and throw her arms around the man she had known and missed...until she looked into the blazing, passionate glow of his golden eyes, the eyes of a Sith Lord. Her features drew together in resistance.

"Go _with_ you?" she asked, disbelieving and uncertain she heard him right, but the man just nodded, his features sincere.

"I asked you once, long ago. I asked you to come with me on my next mission. It _isn't_ my next one, but..." He reached out, his hand extending closer to her. "Come with me. Join me on _this_ mission."

"To do what?"

"To end the war," Kenobi said, his tones hushed, his entire being almost seeming to quiver in anticipation and excitement. "To finally bring peace to this torn galaxy..."

She smiled up at him. "This war will end with your death, Sith Lord," she hissed, suddenly leaping to her feet and backing up, her fist raised in the air to draw the attention of the clones. Quinlan activated the lightsabers in his hand, a blade on each side of his Sith Master, ready to defend him, but Kenobi just stood, a small smile on his face, his hands clasped behind his back. "Kill Kenobi, but don't bring any harm to the other two!" Secura commanded, and Vos sucked in a sharp breath, ready to defend the fire, even though he knew he couldn't deflect them all.

Nobody moved. No blasters fired, no trigger fingers twitched, and when the tightness in his chest became too much, Vos exhaled, his eyes widening as he looked at the clones and realized where they were pointing their weapons, the Jedi seeming to realize at the same time. Every blaster, every pistol, every rifle was trained on General Secura.

"Well," Kenobi drawled, a smirk on his face when he felt Aayla tremble. "That was anticlimactic." He brushed off the front of his robes. "Shall we see who your soldiers obey?" he asked sweetly, snapping his fingers, and every one of the white helmets turned to look at him. "Boys, kneel before your Master." Every clone dropped to their knee, a sea of white armor suddenly lowering around them, and the Twi'lek paled, swaying on her feet as she watched her fellow Jedi kneel with the rest, the tentacles on his head squirming in elation as he grasped the Sith's robes, moaning softly when Kenobi's hand ran over the sensitive tendrils. "I should mention, Aayla," Kenobi said softly, sweetly, his accented clip sending a shiver up the Jedi's spine, "your part in this mission is _not_ optional."

"You're controlling them..." she said, staring wide-eyed at the Nautolan as he took the Sith Lord's hand and began fervently kissing it. "You're controlling _all_ of them..."

Kenobi rolled his eyes. "This _is_ what I do, Secura, you all know that. Or..." He smiled and pulled the moaning Jedi closer. "Are you bothered because this one reminds you of your lover?" She gaped at him, a dark flush on her cheeks, but could find no words, and the Sith Lord laughed. "Yes, Quinlan told me all about your... _dalliance_ with Master Fisto. And even if he didn't, your thought betray you. I can _see you_." He smiled and pointed to his temple. "Mind reader. It's a curse."

"No..." She shook her head in disbelief. "No, you can't be in my mind."

"Of _course_ I can be," Obi-Was said, rolling his eyes and drawing closer to the Twi'lek. She didn't move. "I have a great deal of personal experience with your race. You _crave_ submission on a _cultural_ level, it's like it's a part of your genetics." Gold eyes roved over her as the Jedi looked away, refusing to meet his gaze. "There's a reason your species are kept as pleasure slaves by so many. I'm certain your...biological urge has made Kit _very_ happy."

" _Stop it_!" she cried, her hands coming up to cover her ear cones, but it was no good. She wasn't hearing the Sith with her ears, but in her mind through the Force. She tried to look away from the Nautolan, but she couldn't.

"Oh, he _does_ remind you of him!" Kenobi chirped, pleased as could be, the tentacles running over his hand. "Before I cut these off of him, in any case."

"If you're going to kill me, hurry up and do it," Secura said through grit teeth, and Kenobi looked hurt, almost offended.

"Kill you?" he asked. "I'm not going to kill you, Aayla. As I said, you're my guest. You're going to help me bring peace to the galaxy." He whistled, and two clones rushed forward and grabbed the Twi'lek roughly by the arms. "Hey now, easy!" Kenobi chided. "She's an old friend, I won't have her harmed." He smiled softly and laid his hand against her cheek, and Secura found that she couldn't pull away. "I'm going to take care of you, Aayla. Until you get back to the Jedi, you will be safe in my care."

"The promises of a Sith mean _nothing_ , Kenobi."

"Than take it as a promise of one friend to another." He waved in the air for the clones to follow him, and he slowly turned to make his way back to the ships on the ground, the sea of clones parting to let him pass before they followed in behind him, their weapons still trained on the Jedi and the enthralled Nautolan standing close, his lightsaber in hand.

"...thank you," Quinlan mumbled as he lightly pressed his knuckles to Kenobi's arm in the weakest punch ever. The man just smiled.

"We've accomplished a great deal here today. We've reestablished the Separatists as force to be feared, _and_ we've captured an extremely valuable prisoner." He whistled and chuckled under his breath. "Member of the Council..."

"The Jedi will be eager to get her back," Vos whispered. "Especially when Fisto sits by her side"

"Yes, but the Republic may not." There was silent confusion for a moment before Vos gasped in understanding.

"You mean to play the Jedi against the Republic."

"Oh yes." Vos simply grinned. "It should work. And if it doesn't..." He shrugged indifferently. "I return her anyway." He looked behind him and saw the Jedi, her hands bound behind her back, her head lowered, her feet dragging far behind them. "It will divide the Jedi, not just against each other, but against the Republic and against the Sith."

Quuinlan laughed. "We just captured her, Obi. How are we going to change Jedi minds about the Sith?"

Kenobi grinned, a devious gleam in his gold eyes and Vos felt excitement rush through him. "Oh, that's easy, Quin," Kenobi drawled. "We're going to be _perfect_ gentlemen."


	103. Hostage

For three weeks, Anakin Skywalker had been flying across the Outer Rim cleaning the Separatists out of the worlds they occupied, but no longer had the strength to hold. With the bulk of their remaining forces concentrated on only a few remaining key systems, it seemed like the best time to bring the rest of the galaxy back into the Republic, especially since the weakening Confederacy stood to rapidly increase the size of the Mandalorian Empire. Already, hundreds of Separatist systems had rushed to sit under Mandalore's protection after the devastating losses suffered at the Battle of Coruscant, which to many spelled doom for the Confederates. So Anakin moved quickly, the full force of his fleet sweeping the galaxy and ridding it of the scum that stood against the Republic. It wasn't difficult work, but it was necessary to secure these systems before the Separatists regrouped. There would be time to go after their key worlds later, when they were shaking from their rapid losses. Those planets weren't going anywhere.

When Anakin had been called back to Coruscant rather urgently by the Jedi, he almost ignored them, but when he got the same call from Tarkin, who _still_ hadn't been cleared for duty after his brush with the Sith, Skywalker turned for home. They didn't tell him _why_ , only that the matter was vastly important and highly sensitive and couldn't be discussed over any channel, be it open or secure. Which was fine. Kenobi hadn't been seen outside of Raxus since he suddenly found himself leading the Separatist movement, left to scramble for the pieces as they fell, but Anakin didn't believe it. He knew this Sith Lord, and _knew_ that he had to be doing something. He needed to check on Padmé, in any case. As she began to enter the second trimester of her pregnancy, he began to feel increasingly worried about her and her condition.

He _had_ checked the medical tests that she had done, and found they confirmed what she had said. The child _was_ his, though he still had difficulty believing it. It was so difficult to feel its presence in the Force, a trait that he _knew_ was associated with the Dark Side, and with Kenobi in particular. When the child was bigger, when she was closer to giving birth, when the child was more than a collection of rapidly dividing cells, he'd have her checked again. _Just_ to make sure. Though he knew there was a possibility, always a _chance_ that the Sith's corrupting influence was somehow still there. He'd have to see when it was born. He'd know for sure then, he _knew_ he would. All his doubts would be gone, his fears ended, and the nightmares would _finally_ stop.

He saw it more often now. Every time he closed his eyes, Padmé lay dying, every time he stood in silence, he could hear her screaming, _every time_ he could see Kenobi with his bloody blade in hand as the woman he loved died. His nightmares had been visions before, had so far always eventually came to pass. It had been true with his mother. It had been true when that vile, _awful_ Sith had mentally manipulated his innocent wife into her own willing rape. It may be true now, with her death so fresh, so vivid, so _incessant_ in his mind. He had to stop Kenobi, he had to kill him, no matter the costs. He would save Padmé, _he would_. They were going to be together forever, just the two of them to raise their family, and _nothing_ would stand in the way of that. Not the Jedi, not the Sith, not the war, not the Republic, _not anything_.

The Jedi wouldn't understand, _couldn't_ understand his need to save his wife, and they certainly wouldn't help him. And with Qui-Gon dead, Anakin had _nobody_. Rage flashed through him, rough and primal and vivid as he remembered the still fresh pain of his Master's death, his denied revenge, the lightsaber that was _stolen_ from him. Qui-Gon would know what to do. The fear of losing Padmé was so overwhelming, so consuming that he thought of little else, the drive to kill spurring him forward, the murder of one to save the life of another motivating him on his quest for justice and revenge, and there was nobody left for him to talk to, to listen to his fears, his concerns without judgement being passed upon him. The Jedi certainly wouldn't listen to him. The Jedi _never_ listened to him. But every now and again, when it was very, _very_ quiet, he thought he could hear his name being gently called, the voice of his Master distant but clear. He shut it out every time. His mind was playing tricks on him. More _Sith manipulation_ to cause him further pain. He wouldn't listen to it, not now and not ever, not when the shock of his death was still so fresh, so new, so _painful_ , and filled him with such hatred.

His long, angry stride took him to the Galactic Senate, and he found Tarkin waiting for him, the Admiral leaning on one of the giant pillars that lined the grand and mighty halls. Anakin quickened his pace when he saw the man, and the Admiral looked up from his datapad as Skywalker drew near, pushed off the pillar and limped to the General. Anakin frowned and caught the man under the arm to lend him support. He knew full well the agony of Force lightning, knew what it could do to a body, had felt the agony of its touch himself and keenly remembered how bad it had been for him. Tarkin, though, didn't have the resilience of the Force, He was _just_ a man, and the damage must have been astounding if three weeks later, he was _still_ feeling the effects, even with the best medical care the Republic could offer. It was a wonder that the man wasn't dead.

"I've been reading about your exploits," Tarkin said softly, shaking free of the General's grasp, but keeping his one hand on his forearm for support. Their pace was slow, but that was fine. This meeting with the Chancellor wouldn't start without them.

"You must be _terribly_ bored if _that's_ what you're reading," Anakin said lightly. Tarkin shrugged his indifference.

"That, among other things. The rate at which you have been reclaiming the galaxy for the Republic has been astounding. I'm shocked you haven't won the war for us yet."

Anakin beamed. " _Well_ , I was waiting for you to tackle the big stuff. I need my tactician by my side when we finally destroy that filth." Tarkin said nothing, but a small, slight smile crossed the man's thin lips, and Anakin could feel the Admiral's respect for his Jedi commander grow. "And besides, you said we'd do it together. I'm holding you to that, Admiral."

"As you should," he mumbled as the two stepped into the elevator that would bring them to the Chancellor's office. "I meant it."

They were silent for a moment as the doors hissed closed, and when he felt the elevator begin bearing them upwards, Anakin leaned over and asked, "What's this about?"

"Our forces converged upon Felucia," Tarkin said, blinking back surprise. "Haven't you heard? It was nearly two weeks ago." Anakin shook his head absently.

"I've been a little busy, Tarkin, I haven't exactly been keeping track of targets I had no plans of attacking." A pause. "Why, what happened?"

"It would seem," Tarkin drawled as the elevator opened, the two stepping out and crossing the short distance to the Chancellor's office, "that the Confederacy is far more dangerous than we anticipated." The doors slid open, and when they stepped inside, the room was filled with Senators and delegates and Jedi Masters, all talking in hushed, furtive tones, eyes wide and worried. Anakin looked around to see the Jedi huddled close together, all of them highly concerned. Yoda was there, the tiny creature seeing to be lost in thought as Mace Windu spoke with Kit Fisto and Luminara Unduli, the Jedi liaisons to the Chancellor, but Anakin carefully avoided them when he saw Padme, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, her head bowed, her eyes fixed on the floor, her hands folded over her stomach, and Anakin felt himself swell with pride. That was _his_ child, possibly, and if not now, it _would_ be his in the near future. She wasn't showing yet, but she would be soon. They'd have to make up a story before then to explain the "unwed" Senator's sudden pregnancy, but he supposed it wouldn't be difficult to do. There would be scandal, yes, but he supposed that was the price Padmé would have to pay for spreading her legs for a Sith Lord. Even if she _was_ an innocent participation in her own corruption. Kenobi would pay worse than her, but she _still_ had to pay something for daring to even _think_ of Obi-Wan as anything other than an evil beast.

"Padmé," he said softly as he approached, and Amidala looked up, met his eyes, and flushed, her eyes casting down toward the floor again. "What's happening? Tarkin's been locked up in medical, so he's out of the loop."

"We attacked Felucia," she said softly. "That was two weeks ago. We thought the battle was going well. They broke through the Separatist blockade and landed on the planet, and the reports from one of the Jedi serving in the fleet made it seem like we won, but-"

The room fell silent when the Chancellor rose, and Padmé stopped talking as well, turning her attention to Palpatine, who stood nervously fiddling with something in his hands.

"As you all know," he began softly, a tremor in his voice indicating just how concerned he was, a far cry from how confident they had all been when Anakin had left, "we found out yesterday that we have lost the fleet that attacked Felucia." There were quiet mumbles of ascent throughout the room, but Anakin could feel the floor drop out from underneath him. A _fleet_? The Separatist army was _finished_ , it lay in tatters, how could a massive assault _lose_.

"How many was in the attacking force?" Anakin asked, leaning over to Tarkin, and instead of answering, he simply handed the Jedi his datapad that, conveniently, had all the relevant information already displayed. Anakin's jaw went slack. Six Star Destroyers attacked Felucia, along with all the heavy and light cruisers that accompanied a fleet of that magnitude. Hundreds of thousands of clones would have been on board, as well as _twelve_ Jedi commanders. Anakin's jaw clenched. This whole thing _reeked_ of Kenobi. He frowned when he looked over the data. The ships hadn't been destroyed, it seemed. They were _captured_.

"This news," Palpatine continued, "was confirmed via a diplomatic missive from Obi-Wan Kenobi himself." A few swipes of the datapad on the desk, and the room darkened, the holographic projector activated, and the communication in question was displayed, handwritten in an elegant scrawl instead of typed, as these things so often were. Anakin moved closer and squinted to read it. It didn't seem like much, but Anakin knew what this was. It was a _threat_. The exact size of the Separatist fleet was detailed, and it was _far_ bigger than what Anakin had been led to believe, explained in the letter an part of an initiative to rapidly expand their fleet for _protection_ against Republic aggressors that threatened the stability of otherwise peaceful Confederate worlds. But more than that, this message was sent to request a meeting, and the word _request_ was being used in the loosest sense of the word. This wasn't a request. In light of the _supposed_ knowledge that a massive fleet was being kept grounded for the time being, the request was more of a demand, a promise that if this meeting did not occur, the war would intensify once again. Tarkin was right. The Confederacy was still a serious threat.

Palpatine held up the small data card he had been fiddling with. "Obi-Wan Kenobi left us a way to communicate with him., and we seem to have little choice. We must know his intentions." There was nervous fidgeting and hushed, concerned whispers, but nobody objected. Anakin held his breath as the Chancellor slid the card into the reader on the desk, the mechanics of the device whirring and feeding the data of the card into the holoprojector, and Anakin saw the Jedi step forward as the other Senators stepped back. Padmé stayed by his side, her breath held and her heart beating quickly. A moment later, the hologram flickered, clearing away the diplomatic missive and in it's place stood Obi-Wan Kenobi, the newly appointed leader of the Separatist movement. Anakin felt himself tense in rage, his hand instinctively flying to the lightsaber on his belt as he looked upon the Sith Lord's hated face. A clever, sly smirk was on the Sith's face, and he folded his hands behind his back and bowed slightly to the Chancellor and the Jedi, who now stood by his side.

"Chancellor Palpatine," Kenobi said calmly. "I regret that I haven't made contact sooner. The change of command is... _very_ complicated, but my advisors said that I should get in touch." He grinned. "As a sign of good faith."

Anakin opened his mouth to protest, but the Chancellor beat him to it. "Good faith?" Palpatine gasped. "You attacked Coruscant, took me hostage, and have recently destroyed our forces on Felucia! You do _not_ get to contact us in _good faith_ when your intentions are clearly hostile!"

Kenobi scoffed and waved a dismissive hand. " _Please_ , it was not my idea to attack Coruscant, that was Dooku, and _I_ didn't take you captive, that was General Grievous and Pong Krell, _and_ , if I remember correctly, Krell and Dooku are dead." He shrugged, uncaring and nonchalant. "I have no quarrel with you, Chancellor. It was Dooku that wanted war, not I." His eyes narrowed dangerously. "And Felicia is a Separatist world. You have _no_ cause to be there. You came as an invading army, and it was _our right_ to force you out. _Skywalker's_ sweep of the Outer Rim is nothing short of an invasion of undefended planets that _willingly_ joined the Confederacy. What you are doing is an _atrocity_."

" _You son of a bitch_!" Anakin shouted, rushing to stand before the hologram and glaring into the cold, indifferent eyes of the Negotiator, and he felt rage pulse deep within him. Kenobi simply looked amused.

"And look, you brought your rabid animal to the meeting! I keep my pets _outside_."

Anakin sputtered in rage, and before he could formulate a response, Palpatine folded his hands upon the table and quietly asked, "What is it you want, Obi-Wan."

The Sith Lord turned away from Skywalker, a small, sad smile on his lips. "Chancellor, I want _peace_." The silence in the room was deafening. Every rustle, every whisper reduced to nothing as Kenobi held the breathless attention of everyone gathered in the room. Even the Jedi leaned forward. "This was has gone on long enough," he continued. "We have all lost. _All_ of us. The Jedi alone have lost thousands. Millions of lives have been taken from the innocent of the galaxy. Even I..." He took a deep breath and looked down at the ground. "Even I've lost friends, and mentors, and...my future is gone with the death of my lover, and all of it because of the war."

"Why now?" Palpatine asked, his voice tense with suspicions, and Kenobi laughed softly.

"Dooku wanted the war, Chancellor, but I never did. I tried for peace in the beginning, but after that, the Separatists pushed for war and I was ultimately outvoted." Kenobi's eyes narrowed, his features hardening as he stared intensely at Palpatine. "But Dooku's dead, and I'm in charge now, and I want peace. I want to sit down and discuss terms to end this war that will benefit _all_ of use before its continuation gets even worse."

" _He's lying_!" Anakin shouted, rushing to stand before the Chancellor, his hands planted firmly on the man's desk, the Jedi looking at him like he was positively crazy. "The Separatist fleet is in _tatters_! He's trying to save face before we sweep in and kill them all!" He reeled on Kenobi, the Sith Lord's face expressionless and calm, a stark contrast to Skywalker's unhinged fury. "Is that the plan, Kenobi? Is the Sith Lord _afraid_?" Anakin smiled cruelly sand slowly drew closer to the hologram, so close that he nearly stood nose to nose with the man, so close that he could see the different shades projected within his eyes. "Your defeat is inevitable, Kenobi. We see through this _act_ of yours. You say you have a fleet, you say you have more ships than we know, but you are _bluffing_ to scare us into negotiations when we are _so close_ to victory, the Separatists' unconditional surrender, and _your execution_."

"Anakin, _stop it_!" Padmé snapped from her place near Tarkin, stepping forward into the light of the holoprojector, and Skywalker snarled in irritation and rage when he watched Obi-Wan's eyes dart to her and slowly rove over her, appraising, _appreciative_... _possessive_. He was certain of it, he was _so sure_! Kenobi was sizing her up, taking the measure of her, a predator looking at what amounted to prey for his desires. A moment later, the eyes returned to Skywalker, an amused smile on his lips, but there was danger in the depths of those eyes.

"Would you like to test that, Skywalker? He asked, his voice a low, dangerous growl. "Are you so certain that we are as weak as you believe? If so, by all means, continue to attack us and discover exactly how serious I am. But remember this," he warned, looking away from the fuming Anakin and up to the Jedi Masters that surrounded the Chancellor. "You _lost_ on Felucia, and five of your six Star Destroyers were captured. This isn't the first time we have stolen your ships, and mark my words, it won't be the last."

A sudden pained whimper carried in the air, and both Skywalker and Kenobi looked up to see Jedi Master Kit Fisto, his hands planted on the Chancellor's desk and leaning over, his dark eyes wide. Luminara's hand rested on his shoulder, trying to soothe the Nautolan, but he would hear none of it. "Obi-Wan, _please_ ," he whimpered, his shortened head tendrils squirming in aggravation. "Aayla Secura led that fleet, she was chasing Quinlan Vos, she hunted him all the way to Felucia, she contacted me right before she went down to the planet after him!" His arms were shaking under the strain of his emotions, and Windu tried to pull him back toward the Jedi, but the Nautolan shook free and ran to the hologram, stopping before him and breathing hard and frantic. " _Please_ ," he said again. "What happened to her..."

Kenobi smiled softly, started to speak, and was interrupted by Skywalker's furious, "She's dead, Kit! They're all dead, all twelve of the Jedi sent to Felucia! Dead or worse, or we would have heard from them!" He pointed an accusing finger at Obi-Wan. "We do _not_ make deals with _Jedi slayers_. Do you really think you can get away with all you've done with a few words?"

"She's alive," Obi-Wan whispered, his eyes focused on Fisto and pointedly ignoring the furious Anakin. "She's here with me, actually, would you like to see her?"

Kit's frantic, panicked whimper was drowned out by Mace Windu calmly, _strongly_ saying, "If this is some trick, if she's come to _any_ harm at all-"

"No, no," Kenobi said quickly. "Nothing like that. She's fine, and I haven't touched her." He raised a hand, a sly smile on his lips. "My conditions, Jedi."

Anakin scoffed bitterly. "We won't-"

"Anything, _anything_!" Fisto interrupted, his distress causing Yoda to limp out and stand beside him, the proximity of his presence instantly calming to the Jedi, but not to Anakin, who was growing more and more angry by the second as he watched this Sith Lord twist and manipulate his way into getting exactly what he wanted.

"I'll let you speak now, of course," Obi-Wan said softly. "We'll call it a show of... _good will_ , yes?" Anakin _growled_ , which made Kenobi's smile widen. "And when we sit down to negotiate peace terms, I'll bring her along so I can _personally_ deliver her back to Jedi hands." He shrugged. "We don't even need to reach peace, we just need to _try_. Agree to this, sit down and help us find common ground to end the war, and I'll give your friend back. Unharmed, untouched, free of my influence."

"Yes, _please_ , just let me see her!" Fisto cried, and a sharp tug on his hand by Yoda reeled him back, the Nautolan biting down on his lip, his tendrils squirming in distress.

"No, we _can't_!" Anakin snapped. "We can't be manipulated by this man! Not now, not again, not when victory is so close! The life of one Jedi isn't worth making deals with _evil_!"

"This isn't about the life of _one_ Jedi," Kenobi hissed, his accented tones dripping with disgust. "This is about the lives of the _millions_ that will continue to die if this war continues. This is about finally bringing an end to the violence. You save a life by _talking_. This one saved life is the prelude to a _galaxy_ saved." Anakin could feel himself burning in rage when he sensed many in the room _agreed_ with this agent of evil.

"We must... _discuss_ this," Palpatine said, slow and measured. "Show us the Jedi." Kenobi nodded, sharply whistled, and a moment later, Aayla Secura walked into view, her face bright, her eyes clear, her hands unbound. She appeared to be free of any injuries, and by the look of her, it seemed as though she wasn't a prisoner at all, but engaging in a long-overdue, awkward visit with an old friend. Kit Fisto almost sobbed his relief, and when she saw him, her holographic image rushed to meet him. It was a little awkward for the Masters beside him to witness the display, to sense such a rush of affection from two of their members. Anakin understood, but he felt his anger rise all the same. They were playing into the Sith Lord's hands, and he _hated it_.

"Aayla," Kit gasped, the tenderness in his voice almost palpable. "Are you hurt? Is everything alright? Did he do anything to you, where are you?!"

"Peace, Kit," she said softly. "I'm fine. Things here are... _confusing_." She looked over her shoulder at the Sith Lord and frowned. "He's not behaving anything like I imagined when he captured me. I thought...after Eeth Koth, after what Saesee Tiin reported..." She shook her head. "We've just been... _talking_."

"Talking..." Mace repeated, staring at the girl, then looking down at Master Yoda, the little creature frowning deeply, his ears lowered as he thought. Secura nodded.

"Yes. Me and Quinlan and Obi-Wan." She gasped, crossed her arms to glare at the Sith Lord. " _He_ showed up when I was hunting Master Vos! Everything was under control until then!" Kenobi shrugged, a smirk on his face.

"Quin's my best friend, did you expect me to sit by and allow you to take him from me?"

"Secura, the other Jedi that went with you on the mission. Where are they?" Mace asked, serious and somber, and the Twi'lek's face fell.

"Dead. All of them but myself and one other. I don't know what happened to him. He was with us when we left Felucia, but we weren't transferred to the same ship."

"And he's treating you well?" Kit gasped, sick with worry, and the Twi'lek nodded, ger holographic hand reaching out to soothe the Jedi.

"He's been...treating me like a guest. A friend." She wrinkled her nose. "It's _really_ weird."

"Thank you..." Kit said, closing his eyes and lowering his head, his shoulders shaking with emotion. " _Thank you_..."

"Has he done anything to you, Secura?" Mace said firmly. "Torture, rape, mind control, memory manipulation, _any_ of the things he's been known to do?"

Kenobi scoffed, clearly offended. "Please, you make me sound like a savage. I've never raped anyone."

" _Yes you have_!" Anakin roared striding forward once again and was only stopped by Windu's powerful grasp on his wrist. "You _are_ a monster, Kenobi, and we don't need you to _give her back_. We will _take her back_ , after we destroy you!"

"He's done nothing to me," Aayla said swiftly, responding to the tension within her fellow Jedi. "Not so far as I can tell, in any case. The three of us have just been talking, they've been perfect gentlemen." She paused and frowned. " _Well_ , not Master Quinlan. There's nothing about him that even comes close to being a gentleman."

"What have you been talking about?" Mace asked, as if it would somehow give him keen insight into the workings of the Sith Lord, but the girl simply shrugged.

"Reminiscing, mostly. About our training. About the missions Master Vos and I went on. About...the way things were before the war." She looked sad, her gaze drifting to someplace distant, and slowly, Kenobi led her out of the holoprojector's range and returned a moment later, his hands folded behind his back.

"Negotiations," he said softly, "and she will be returned."

" _Yes_!" Fisto agreed quickly, and Anakin shot him a ferocious glare.

" _No_!"

"We need to _discuss it_!" Palpatine said, standing with his arms outstretched toward the two conflicting men. "This is not a matter that can be decided by _Jedi_."

"Alright, _Kenobi_ ," Anakin snarled, tearing away from Windu's grip. "Let's sit down and talk, you pick the time, I pick the place, and I say we meet on _Mandalore_." They could see Obi-Wan take in a sharp breath and hold it, the pupils of his eyes narrowing into pinpoints, his face clearly paling even over the limited colors of the holographic display, and a wicked, triumphant grin came across Anakin's face. "What's wrong, _Kenobi_ ," he drawled. "That's neutral territory, isn't it? It's where we met before." Slowly, Kenobi shook his head, started to speak, and found he could not. Anakin scoffed, staring at disgust at the projection before him. "Not so tough now, are you, _Sith Lord_."

" _Anakin, stop it_!" Anakin turned swiftly to see Padme rush before him, her brown eyes narrowed, her entire form tense and shaking, and Skywalker felt his temper spike. She would... _defend him_?! "You are cruel, Anakin! The Chancellor said we need to discuss it, and that _doesn't mean you_! This is a Republic matter, it doesn't involve the Jedi!"

"The Jedi _are_ the Republic, Padmé!" he shouted back. "We are fighting your war, we should have a say in how we deal with this vile, _disgusting_ menace!"

"Discuss this with the Chancellor, we will," Yoda rasped, looking up at the Sith Lord before him. "Grateful, the Jedi will be, to have Master Secura returned." Kenobi shot Anakin a hateful look and bowed to the Jedi and the Chancellor.

"You know how to contact me," he whispered. "I await your decision." The hologram blinked away and standard lighting returned to the room, and everyone stood in silence, long and awkward, and Anakin shivered in his rage, the Force running cold through him. _Surely_ the Jedi had the wisdom to see what was going on.

"We have a great deal to think about," Palpatine said, his voice shaking and weary. "The Senate will convene tomorrow to discuss these events. I bid you all a good evening." Everyone turned to leave, quietly whispering and discussing all that had happened, and Anakin slowly started to follow the Jedi out, looking through the crowed for Padmé, but he didn't see her. She may have already left. He'd just have to go to see her at home later. He looked behind him to see if the woman was still within the Chancellor's office, but all he saw was Palpatine sitting at his desk, his hands folded before him, and Tarkin, standing beside the elderly man and whispering. It would be... _bad form_ to leave Tarkin alone when the man clearly needed assistance in getting back to his residence. He walked back into the office, the door hissing closed behind him, and in the silence of the empty rooms once filled with the most important politicians in the Republic, he could only hear the hushed whispers of Palpatine and Tarkin, and the frozen rushing of the Force in his ears.

"That was quite a scene you made, General," Tarkin said crisply, and Palpatine smiled at the Jedi and motioned for him to come closer. He did, eventually coming around to stand on the other side of the Chancellor. "I doubt the Jedi will be pleased with you."

"When are the Jedi _ever_ pleased with me?" he grumbled, but smiled softly when Palpatine gave his hand a reassuring pat.

"You're grieving," he said softly. "And that man is the cause of a great deal of pain, not just for you, but for all of us. I understand." Anakin looked at the man like he didn't understand what he was saying, and slowly, he relaxed. Palpatine... _understood_. He saw exactly what Anakin did. The Jedi wouldn't listen to him. The Jedi would stupidly insist on sitting down with Kenobi and talking, working out a way to get himself out of the _very_ real danger he was in, which would allow the Sith to _yet again_ disappear from the sight of the Jedi. He would get away with _everything_. But with Palpatine...

"Chancellor," Anakin began quietly. "I think this is a _very_ bad idea. Meeting with this man has never gone well, and this feels like a trap to me. We have the Separatists on the run. Maybe he has captured Republic ships, but the figures he sent us were _lies_. They have to be. And he doesn't have Dooku's leadership to fall back on anymore."

Palpatine was silent for a moment, his fingers steepling together as he stared at his desk and thought. Slowly, he nodded. "The Jedi will want to meet with him to save their friend."

"Kenobi has been infecting the Jedi Order since before the war began," Skywalker snarled. "This is just another way for him to get in and tear us apart. He needs to be stopped, and ending the war _isn't_ going to stop him. Chancellor..." Anakin pleaded, kneeling beside the man. "We're talking about ending the war in a way where the Separatists _get away_ with all that they have done. There will be no justice if we make peace. I can win this war. I can _win_ it."

Palpatine looked up at Tarkin, and the Admiral frowned. "It's possible that Kenobi wasn't lying about his fleet, but it's unlikely." He shook his head. "No, our assessment earlier was the right one, Chancellor. Kenobi is no Dooku. The Confederacy is falling apart, with or without the ability to fight back. I concur with General Skywalker. The Separatists' days are numbered. All that's left to do is clean up the pile of scraps that is General Grievous, and even the greatest fleet in the galaxy couldn't save them."

The Chancellor nodded. "Very well. I will get a feel for the Senate tomorrow, though I suspect that they will feel as you do. They want peace, yes, but they also want justice." He frowned and took Anakin's hand in his own. "Though...I worry about the rift this will cause between the Jedi and the Senate. Refusing Kenobi will be condemning their friend."

"So what?" Anakin said, shrugging. "The life of a single Jedi should _never_ get in the way of the justice that we all deserve." The Jedi sneered. "What they want doesn't matter anyway. They are sworn to obey the Republic. If you tell them to continue the war, they _must_ obey."

Palpatine nodded. "Go then, Skywalker. Hunt your enemy. Get your revenge. The Republic will support your cause." With a wicked grin, Anakin rose to his feet and strode out the door, leaving Tarkin alone with the Chancellor when it seemed that they were not done. He had to go see Padmé, and then in the morning, he would be gone. He had a man to murder.


	104. The Twins

It only took a few days for the Senate to outright reject any talks of peace, as Obi-Wan suspected. Peace went against his Master's plans, and while he hadn't spoken to Sidious since then, he couldn't imagine that his Master was happy. Or maybe he was. Kenobi never knew what was going on in his mind. He probably had a contingency built in for that scenario as well. Sidious planned for _every_ eventuality. He frowned deeply, his hood drawn over his head as he walked through the busy streets, his arm wrapped tightly around the waist of the cowled woman at his side. They looked just like any of the other of the hundreds of couples that strode through Coruscant Park, the green, sprawling expanse lit by lanterns that lined the winding paths and sat in perfect view of the Jedi Temple, it's massive spires towering above them in the distance. It wasn't a long walk from where they were.

The woman squirmed upon seeing it, and gasped when long fingers dug into her hip. " _Hush_ ," Kenobi hissed, leaning over and kissing the side of her head. "Patience, Jedi. You will be home soon enough."

"Why are you doing this?" Aayla asked softly, and bit her lip to silence herself when he pulled her closer. "Your push for peace fell through, your condition-"

"Was not met, no, but quite frankly, I have no use for you." He shrugged she looked at him curiously. "What!"

"You had use for all the other Jedi you destroyed, did you?"

"I _did_." He smirked as the woman shifted uncomfortably against him, her presence in the Force uncertain and afraid, struggling for balance simply for _being_ so close to the heavy veil of his own considerable darkness. "For practice, for an education, to make a point, and so on, but _you_..." He kissed the top of her cowled head. "I don't harm my friends, if I can avoid it, and while we were never as close as I was to others, I always enjoyed my time with you."

"Are all Sith Lords this confusing?" she growled between clenched teeth, and Obi-Wan nodded and chuckled, a deep, reverberating thing that she could feel in his chest.

"Since I'm very soon going to be the _only_ Sith Lord, yes, I suppose we are."

"The Council is never going to believe that you didn't do something to me, they _never_ -"

" _Hush_ ," he hissed, swiftly drawing her against him when two others began to pass far too close, his hand on the back of her head, his body pressed tight against hers, and Secura flushed, the hand on his chest feeling his slow, even heartbeat, so unlike hers, which was beating so fast she thought it may leap from her chest. She closed her eyes and thought of home, how close she now stood to returning to the Jedi when she was certain before that she never would. She thought of the similar embrace she would feel soon enough when she rushed back into the Temple after her ordeal, a trial that had been...much easier than she had expected. It was one of...comfort. In her week of imprisonment, if it could even be called that, she had sat among _Sith Lords_ , ate with them, _meditated_ with them, all in the knowledge that she would never be able to escape, would never be able to fight her way out, even if she tried. And yet...she stayed willingly, knowing that the Jedi would come to free her, knowing that even they would come to sit down with a Sith Lord if it meant peace for the galaxy.

But they hadn't. No, she would come to know freedom because the _Sith Lord_ freed her. Her trial wasn't a physical one like Saesee Tiin had described. Her's was...mental. _Emotional_. For in all the time she had spent among the Sith, among the Dark Jedi that had once been her friend and her Master, it had felt... _familiar_. Like nothing had changed. It was easy to hate the Sith, to call for their extermination when they were this distant and evil thing, but as soon as they had become _people_...it became much more difficult. They had talked about Quinlan, about his love for Ventress, the reformed Sith assassin, the brutal lie she had told, how the friend he had loved so dearly had been there to pick him up when he fell. They had talked about Obi-Wan and his mistreatment at the hands of a Jedi he loved, a Council he respected, and how he had gone to find balance in the Dark Side when the light had failed him. They had briefly, _briefly_ spoken about Satine and the son he had so tragically lost when Secura tried to gently extend her sympathies, but the Sith would have none of it and stormed out of the room. After that, it had been difficult to see Obi-Wan as Darth Lumis, the evil enemy of the Jedi. He was...just a man. Unspeakably cruel, yes, but she saw humanity in him, and while it may not have been possible to save him, extinguishing his life seemed an awful thing to do when she knew love could and _did_ exist in his heart.

How was she supposed to explain _that_ to the Jedi?

"You're going to tell them," Kenobi whispered, holding her elbow as they began walking again, " _exactly_ what happened. Tell them the truth. I didn't manipulate you. Yoda should be able to see that."

"They won't believe it." She paused and glared up at him. " _I_ don't believe it."

"Oh, yes you do, you're just being stubborn, _Jedi_." She felt the pressure on her arm release, and when she looked up, she was standing before the steps of the Jedi Temple, and she had never been so relieved to look upon it. She smiled brightly and looked over at her captor to see him gone, already walking away from her back the way they came. With a smile and a deep breath, Aayla Secura rushed up the steps of the Temple, her heart near to bursting as she came home.

He walked in silence, his hands folded in his sleeves as he breathed deeply of the cool night air. Secura's part in his plan was already done, and her part was merely extended by allowing her to return untouched. The touch of madness in him bemoaned it as a waste to not tear another Jedi apart bit by bit, but the part of him that was _Sith_ , patient, resourceful, cunning and clever, knew exactly how important this was. What he needed, more than anything else, was _time_ , and Aayla Secura's safe return had bought him that and more. Time the Sith needed to move the pieces of their plan's conclusion, time to gain control over his troubled mental state, time to discover his Master's intentions, see if even he would come to betray him as well. In one moment, he had fractured the Republic, created a rift between the Jedi and the Senate, and gotten Anakin Skywalker off of Coruscant in his mad quest for his execution. It was ideal. Kenobi had no plans to meet Skywalker again for some time, and with the wrathful Jedi causing havoc on behalf of the Republic in the Outer Rim, it gave Bo-Katan the chance to expand her empire, just as her sister had once done.

Entire systems began flocking to the Mandalorians, their harsh warrior culture instilling a sense of safety in those who came into their fold, gave those capable of fighting a purpose, and their culture of adoption allowed _millions_ of war orphans to find families. He didn't visit Bo-Katan much, since simply seeing her filled him with pain that he was trying hard to forge, pain that made his madness flare within him like the savage beast it wast, but he _did_ still send her gifts, and this time, he had sent her a portion of the clones that he had captured from his assault on Felucia with the stipulation that she publically declare a Mandalorian alliance with the Separatists born of the need to protect those who sued for peace, and were met with violence. By the end of the week, the tatters of the Confederacy would be bolstered by millions and _millions_ of Mandalorian Death Watch soldiers. He wondered what his Master would think of _that_. Why have a rabid dog like Skywalker when Darth Lumis stood ready with an Empire already?

" _You did a good thing_." Kenobi sighed and hung his head, his already slow gait becoming a tortured shuffle through the park.

"I _really_ didn't," Obi-Wan groaned. "She's just going to end up fracturing the Jedi, she's-"

" _Alive_ ," the voice said. " _Because of you. That's no small thing, even given your...sinister intent._ "

He rolled his eyes. "I did it because it pleases Quinlan Vos, and when he doesn't get his way, he _mopes_. He's the most insufferable sulker I've ever seen."

The voice snorted with repressed laughter. " _How sweet. How's that marriage coming along_?"

"It would be better if he didn't _sulk_." Kenobi sighed. "Honestly, Qui-Gon, this is getting tiresome. Can't you find someone else to haunt?"

" _I'm afraid not_ ," Qui-Gon said, chuckling softly for a moment before he said, " _You're the only one who will listen to me_. _So far. This process is...far more complicated than I was led to believe. How long has it been since I died_?"

"I don't know, I stopped keeping track in the hopes you would _find someone else to tell you the time, Qui-Gon_."

He scoffed. " _Don't lie to me, Obi-Wan, you're a neurotic record keeper. You may be insane, but that's done nothing to cure your obsessive compulsive disorder_."

Kenobi growled, his eyes shut tight and his jaw clenched. "Five weeks, two days, and seven hours." A pause. "Approximately."

"... _I was joking about the obsessive compulsive thing. You're just insane."_

Obi-Wan growled and quickened his pace. In the time since he had become one with the Force, Qui-Gon had made _incredible_ strides. When Kenobi sunk himself into the Force, he could see him. Not clearly, but he was _absolutely_ taking shape within the Force. He couldn't yet manifest in the physical world, but Obi-Wan knew he would be able to, given enough time, and Qui-Gon's time was _infinite_. He could almost always feel the Jedi Master through the depths of their connection, often calm, restful, in deep meditation and contemplation of what he had become, reaching for things far beyond even Kenobi's reach, and that was fine. But then there were times he became restless, times he awoke to practice the things the Force revealed to him about his new state of being, and Qui-Gon would actively seek Kenobi out. And in those times, it seemed as though Qui-Gon made it his mission to make the young Sith Lord feel as insane as he actually was by _never shutting up_.

" _Where are we going_?" Qui-Gon's voice echoed in his mind. Kenobi didn't answer. " _...Obi-Wan_." Again, he remained silent. " _Obi-Wan_!"

"What..." Kenobi whined, pressing his hands to his ears as if to drown out the noise, but it was to no avail. The voice was _inside_ his head. No sense could block that. Even now, embers smouldered at the edge of his vision. He'd done a fine job of staving off his insanity for quite some time, but now, he could feel it creeping closer.

" _Where are we going_?" Qui-Gon asked again, and Kenobi groaned.

"I'm going to see Padmé," he muttered. "I expect you to be out of my head by then."

" _Obi-Wan_ ," the Master chided. " _You said_ -"

"I _know_ what I said, Qui-Gon!" he snapped. "But there is no keeping Anakin Skywalker from the Dark Side, he has already fallen and you _know that_." For once, the voice was silent, and Kenobi could feel the Jedi's sorrow, oppressive and morose. "And when I saw her at the meeting, something felt..." He groaned and gently rubbed his temples. "... _wrong_. I don't know what, but I need to know. If she's in danger..." Obi-Wan sighed as he ran a hand through his hair. "I swore to protect her. I won't fail her, not when the Force is pushing me toward this." There was no response. He closed his eyes and reached through the Force, tugged at the faint string of light within the dark waters, and felt that the Jedi was resting, his consciousness faded to nearly nothing as he traversed the reaches unknown to the Sith. With a sigh of satisfaction, he walked the rest of the way in silence.

* * *

The door slid open to reveal the shiny gold droid that Padme kept, and Kenobi couldn't help but roll his eyes. He found this droid's programming to be _particularly_ irritating. He found the droid to be a tiresome, anxiety-prone construct, and what Kenobi _didn't_ understand was that if a droid could be programmed to have literally _any_ personality traits, why would someone go out of their way to make one like _this_? He hated droids. _Hated them_.

"Master Kenobi!" C-3PO seemed to gasp, drawing back slightly when the man entered the apartment and drew back his hood. "It is...so good to see you again."

"I know you're programmed to be polite, but did your circuits fry just a little bit just now? I smell electric burns." Kenobi smirked and rolled his eyes as the droid went into its usual diatribe about the type of droid it is, its programming specifications, its much vaulted six million forms of communication, and Obi-Wan took off his cloak and draped it over the droid's arm. "How's your Ancient Sith coming along?" C-3PO stopped talking, and Kenobi smirked when he could hear the droid's processor's furiously working.

"I have been installed with a collection of-"

"Words and phrases, xaz, kad'zhol kashnenx gana kia'moketi tave khutrai, kash zhol?" His grin widened when the droid begun to fret. Confronted with perhaps the one language he _couldn't_ understand was sending the worrisome mechanical into something resembling a breakdown.

"Master Skywalker," he began, defensive, "installed a data drive containing-"

"It isn't enough," Kenobi drawled, shaking his head. "I'm here to see Padmé, where is she?" The droid almost seemed to sigh in relief with the change of topic.

"She has retired for the evening, Master Kenobi. I shall alert her to your presence, and contact the authorities in regards to your present whereabouts."

"That would be _perfect_ ," he drawled, smirking as the droid moved to do as he said, and he reached out a hand as the mechanical passed and shut him down. C-3PO bent at the waist, his lit eyes growing dark as the whir of his processors stopped, and Obi-Wan headed toward Padmé's bedroom. When he entered, the woman was reading, her face drawn in concentration, so focused that she didn't notice when he stepped inside. When she _did_ look up, her brown eyes widened in shock, and he could feel her pulse suddenly jump, her presence in the Force shifting violently from restful to turbulent in the matter of moments. Obi-Wan didn't know what sort of response he could expect from the woman, but he _didn't_ expect her to leap from her bed and rush to him to throw her arms around his neck. He reflexively pulled her close. Already, he could feel the threat of madness fading.

"I was _so_ worried about you, Obi-Wan..." she gasped, her voice shaking and her arms tightening as she tensed, the Senator's entire body screaming to hold back all the emotions she felt, to keep her composure, but she was failing terribly. "Anakin is _obsessed_ with murdering you, he thinks of almost nothing else! And...and you said you would _protect me_!" she snapped, her relief switching from concern to anger faster than Kenobi thought even possible. He frowned. Satine had been an emotional terrorist as well when she was with child. "You left me no way to contact you, and I have _needed_ you, Obi-Wan!" There was a desperation there that wasn't there before. Something tense and frightened, something that didn't come from _just_ her. Obi-Wan held her out at arm's length, his eyes narrowed in focus as he took in her fine features, the anger on her face that masked the deep fear she felt.

"What has Anakin done, Padmé?" he asked softly, and the question undid her.

She tore away from him, sat down on the edge of her bed, put her face in her hands and began to silently sob, those thin, bare shoulders shaking and trembling, and Obi-Wan had never seen the petite woman ever looking so small as she did in that moment. He knelt before her and slipped his hands into her hair, and the woman flinched at the contact, her brown eyes wide as she quickly looked up, and Kenobi saw nothing but fear within her.

"S-stop," she said, her voice quivering as she shook her head. "Stop, what are you doing..."

"I'm looking inside you," he muttered, and the woman whimpered pitifully and wrenched away. "...Padmé. You've been a target of the Sith for a _very_ long time. I need to look and see if you've been influenced again. _Please_ , I can't help you if I don't fully understand what is happening." She looked at him for a long while in silence as tears streamed down her face, but Obi-Wan didn't move. The Force was still, apprehensive, cautious like the woman was, and he realized that it may have been her _children_ that were causing this, scared and uncertain of the intent of the obviously dangerous agent of the Dark Side that they were now forced to contend with. He closed his eyes, and projected calm through the Force in an attempt to soothe the tiny beings, and a moment later, Padmé took is hands in hers and laid them upon her temple.

"Y-you won't do anything, will you?" the Senator asked softly, trembling slightly when she looked into the harsh, dangerous gold of the eyes before her. Kenobi shook his head and slipped his fingers into her thick brown hair.

"Just looking..." he muttered, the calming touch of the Force upon his touch as he slowly raked his fingers across her scalp. "I need you to relax, though. It will be easier for both of us."

She tensed immediately, her small hands gripping the back of his tightly, and he could feel her pulse racing through her fingertips. "...help me?" she asked, almost pleaded, and Obi-Wan smiled slightly, closed his eyes, and brushed over her with the Force with the light, coaxing touches that he was so practiced at using to get what he wanted, but now, he used it to soothe the woman, silently commanding her body to relax. Slowly, it did. He could feel her racing, humming heart slow to fast, even beats, and then to slow, strong pulses. Her ragged breathing became silent and deep, the tension in her muscles fled and as she relaxed, her body slumped forward, and she rested her head upon his strong shoulder. Her mind opened up to him, the Force itself almost seeming to give him permission, and Obi-Wan slipped inside of her, the girl in his arms gasping softly as he did.

He knew what to look for this time, and there was nothing. Nothing at all that caught his attention, nothing that alerted him to his Master's presence, nothing to indicate that she had been used or manipulated in the underhand... _insidious_ way that his Master had been named for. It could only mean a few things. Perhaps Sidious still believed he held her in his grasp, or, more distressing, he no longer had a need for Padmé Amidala. Not when he now had a direct line to Anakin Skywalker. If that was so, if that was what was _actually_ happening, than his Master had lied to him, which wasn't unusual, but had lied to him about the nuisance that Senator Amidala had become to him. Something... _didn't_ _fit_. Perhaps it wasn't one or the other, but both. Perhaps with so close a connection to Skywalker, Sidious simply had assumed that his apprentice would continue his work and had seen no need to preform maintenance of the grip he had upon Padmé. Perhaps...

He growled, his hands tightening for a moment before the Force swiftly and suddenly pushed back against his anger, and he immediately relaxed, soothing her presence once again. _Everything_ involving Sidious was made up of maybe and perhaps. Nothing was certain, and trying to discern his goals was the path to madness, of that, he was certain. He'd have to make himself invaluable to Sidious once again, turn the Master's sights away from Skywalker long enough to make him second guess his preference. It should be easy enough. He had something that Sidious _badly_ wanted.

Padmé was clear, at least for now, but she was far from safe, if the Force was to be believed. The woman was surrounded by Sith and the Dark Side, and she didn't even know it. While Kenobi knew the Dark Side to be a difficult mistress, as much power and passion as one could hope for paid for with blood and death and madness and consuming pain, it took someone special to truly control it. Kenobi _had_ been able to do so once, but the insanity of the swell of power brought on by oppressive grief had greatly diminished him just as it had elevated him. _That_ would have scared Sidious, enough for the Master to want to keep his star pupil gripped in the throes of insanity just to have a way to control him. That would be done soon enough. He could feel it now, in Padmé's presence, the gentle calm of the Force, mental peace washing his madness away, cool, clear waters putting out the smoldering embers of insanity that always threatened to take him. It wasn't over, not yet, but it would be soon, and when it was, Darth Lumis would rise as Master of the Sith, and he would _never_ let that go. _Never_.

The Force gently tugged at him, drawing his focus away from Padmé just long enough to discern the origin of the pull before it faded away. _The children_. He opened his eyes for a moment, Padmé's body slack and relaxed against him, and he withdrew his fingers from the tangle of her hair, slowly slid his hand down over her body to rest upon her stomach. It took a long while for him to feel them, his focus not on the concealed presence of the twins, but on the vision of them, the young children standing together with the Sith Lord, holocrons in hand and teaching them the ways of the Force. Slowly, he could feel them, the vision in his mind seeming to shift as the foreign presence touched it, the children becoming younger, aging backwards to toddlers, than infants, and then finally, he saw _them_ , as they were now. Two small, tiny beings that only bore the slightest, faintest hint that they may one day grow to be humans, the twins settled deeply within their mother and huddled closely together, as if they were _trying_ to hide. He reached out to them, but the Force pushed him away, a vein of cold running through it almost in warning, and Kenobi withdrew slightly.

He felt...he didn't know _what_ he felt, but it was so very different from what he had felt with his own son. The child was to be the future of the Sith, and the tiny, unborn boy seemed to _know_ it, acted like he was meant to rule even before he came to be. His presence was one to be in awe of, one that shouted his presence, one that freely influenced and interacted with all around him. The Force was _his_ to command, and he had grasped it in hands not yet formed, in a body not yet made, and harnessed its power, reaching out as if to say, "I'm here, and I will not be ignored."

The twins were so very different, but now that he could see them, could _feel_ them within their mother, he saw that they were no less strong in the Force. But they had instead used the Force to hide, to wrap themselves in the energy of life itself to make them close to indistinguishable from Padmé's presence, to entwine so closely with each other that they seemed to be one. Theirs was a quiet presence, modest, _fearful_ , quivering in anticipation of something worse to come, of something they were powerless to stop, and in that struggle, Obi-Wan felt similar pain. He too, for all his power, had been powerless to stop Satine from falling. His son had assumed his claim to life was secure, and it had been taken from him anyway, no amount of future potential able to stop it. The twins, it seemed, _knew_ the risk, felt the fear around them, seemed to perceived that something dangerous was close at hand, and that fear had made them small.

Obi-Wan felt it, slow and hesitant and so very afraid, and he kept still, kept calm and serene when he felt the brush of the Force against him, a small, shy flicker of light that gently touched his consciousness, felt his presence with tiny hands, and slowly wrapped its grasp around him, tugging soft and insistent upon his mind. He felt the second presence a moment later, faster and less fearful than the first, eagerly brushing against the power of the Sith Lord and clinging to him, eager and hungry and desperate, and the first presence followed the example of the second soon after. _This_ was what the Force wanted. Obi-Wan swallowed hard and looked down at his hand upon Padmé's stomach, slightly shaking and warm with the touch of the twins. They were... _soothing_. Warm and peaceful and so very strong, and it felt as if they somehow knew something Obi-Wan didn't know, could sense something that was just out of the Sith's reach. He wondered if, perhaps, the children in their formative state existed in a realm of the Force unknown to Obi-Wan, a realm similar to the one in which Qui-Gon now stood. He'd have to ask.

The Force had always guided him, _always_ shown him the way. He had followed it into darkness, into pain deeper than he could have ever imagined, into hatred and rage and anger, into the fires of insanity and madness. He was rewarded with power beyond his comprehension for his service, and he had let the Force down, had _failed_ the Dark Side, not once, but _twice_. Once in the death of Satine, and he was punished for it with the loss of his future, the loss of a mighty Sith Empire under his rule, and with insanity that roared through his mind like a fever And he had failed again in the death of Qui-Gon Jinn, a failure he did not yet know in what way he would pay for it. He would not fail the Force again. His constant companion, his ever present ally had never led him astray before. He would not fail now when it came to the fearful, precious lives that gripped his hand now.

It was suddenly gone, the sudden movement jarring next to the slow, deliberate motions of before when Padmé suddenly flinched, a sharp breath and a feeling of sudden panic filling her, and the feeling was gone, the children once again hidden away within the comforting flow of the Force. She stared at him with wide, frightened eyes, and Obi-Wan scarcely dared to move. The Senator looked at him and relaxed, exhaling in relief, and flushed deeply when she found one of the Sith's hands upon her cheek, and the other over the place where she knew Anakin's child was growing. She tensed again and wiggled away from him, her hands clutched over her stomach and she flushed as she looked away.

"You can help me, Obi-Wan," Padmé said softly. "You...study the Dark Side of the Force, do you not?" Kenobi nodded. "Anakin, he's..." She choked on her words, seeming to struggle with how to say them, but Kenobi knew very well what she was worried about.

"You believe he's fallen to the Dark Side." The growing tension, her palpable fear was answer enough. "You're right, he has." Her visage didn't change. She already knew.

"He's... _changed_ ," she said softly. "He was always passionate and quick to anger, but since Qui-Gon's death, he's been... _cruel_. A-and _murderous_ , he frightens me, Obi-Wan, and I don't know if I can help him!" She took a deep breath, shaking as she fought to hold out tears, and she reached out to take Kenobi's hand, and he gently took it, his thumb making slow, easy circles over her knuckles.

"Is this about the children?" he asked softly, and she nodded, the hand in his grip beginning to shake uncontrollably.

"I don't know if he really believes its his. He read the tests, he had his own done, but he... _h-he_..." She took in a deep breath and violently shook her head as if it would clear the memory from her mind. "I...don't know if I should offer my sympathies to you," she said softly, a small, sad smile on her face, her entire being relaxing for having changed the subject. "F-for Qui-Gon's death, he..." She sniffled. "I know he was your Master, and I know you grew apart, but-"

"Hush," Kenobi interrupted, bringing her hand to his lips. "You don't need to, but I appreciate it anyway. He was...a good man. Flawed, terribly, _terribly_ flawed, but he had the best of intentions."

"...is that why you fell to the Dark Side?" Obi-Wan looked at her curiously, felt her intentions, and found no malice, no manipulation, just simple concern and a quest for answers to questions that she had long been asking herself.

"...in a sense." Obi-Wan thought the answer to suffice, but the girl continued to stare at him, her gaze imploring him to continue. "He brought Anakin to the Temple," he said, and Padmé's eyes widened in sudden understanding, the context of their conversations so, _so_ long ago suddenly making sense. "He was my Master, I wasn't ready to be a Jedi Knight, and...he tossed me aside for a younger, more talented model. And Anakin had _always_ been more talented than me, that was made very clear to me from the beginning." He circled his finger in the air. "That started it. It all went downhill from there." He held his breath when Padmé's small hand reached up and stroked his cheek.

"I had no idea..." she said softly. "No wonder you hate him."

"It is...difficult to be replaced, yes.

She took a deep breath and steeled herself, then softly asked, "Is this my fault? Did _I_ do this to Anakin?"

"No," was his swift reply, leaving no room for questions, but disbelief was plastered on her face. "...I didn't fall _because_ of Anakin or _because_ of Qui-Gon. I fell, _really_ fell, because I wanted it. I _chose_ it. I wanted power. I wanted to be stronger and faster than any of the Jedi that betrayed me, I wanted to show my Master that when he threw me away, he made a _mistake_. Make no mistake, Skywalker _has_ fallen, and he will say it's because of me, not you."

"But _I_ -"

" _We_ had sex, yes," he drawled. "And maybe our little affair is what started him down this path, but I don't think so." He shrugged. "It didn't help any, I bet. Regardless, he blames me. I can handle the ire of some Dark Side pretender."

"...h-he said," she started, afraid again and unsure. "He said if our child..." She stopped and shook her head again. "I am _so sorry_ about how he behaved the other day. I can't believe he would abandon peace just so he can keep hunting you."

"It wasn't just him, the entire Republic was in favor of continuing." Padmé glared viciously.

"Not the _entire_ Republic. Do you really mean to push for peace?" Kenobi nodded. "Then I'll keep fighting. Give me some time, Obi-Wan, I'll make my case heard again. We _are_ divided, and if we work together we can end this war, I _know_ it."

"I doubt your husband would approve of us working together to stop the fighting," he scoffed, and Padme's temper flared.

"Anakin _does not_ control me! This war needs to end, and if he disapproves of bringing an end to this war, than he is _not_ the man I fell in love with!" She took a deep breath, felt her pulse racing, and she was suddenly dizzy. "He isn't the man I knew," she muttered, her shoulders shaking, and Obi-Wan reached out and pulled her close, running a hand through her hair as she cried. "Did the Dark Side do this to him? Is this what it does to people?"

"...yes."

"...c-can he be saved?" she asked softly, desperate, and Kenobi gripped her tighter.

"I don't know. If he somehow manages to kill me, he..." He stopped, but down on his lip and thought for a moment. "...no, that wouldn't be enough. There is more to his darkness than just me." Padmé's hands drifted to her stomach, her mind racing with fear of what Anakin may do to her child. Even with proof, he had still doubted her. Who was to say that when he saw the child, he wouldn't decide that it simply didn't _look_ like him enough? What if he saw Kenobi's face in the infant, just as he seemed to see his face in _everything_ else? It was an obsession, one that went beyond killing the object of his wrath, but now effected Padmé's _child_. Anakin, _her Anakin_ , had threatened to kill an infant, and his recent cruelty, his recent anger made her believe that he would do it too.

"He frightens me, Obi-Wan," the Senator whispered, scooting in even closer to the man. "But I can't leave him, I'm scared of what he'll do to me, a-and without Qui-Gon here...w-with my baby, I-"

"Come with me." Obi-Wan stared at her, shock staining her beautiful face, and it took him a moment to realize what he had said. He knew it was impossible, so foolish and poorly planned, and yet, he felt the pull of the Force, gentle and insistent upon him. He needed to be here for the Senator and her children. Something was happening, something far beyond his reach, and while _he_ didn't feel different, the Force certainly did, and he couldn't help but think that it was slowly moving him into position, a key part in its will as it lashed out against Darth Sidious for whatever it was that he was doing. "I can protect you, Padmé. Come with me."

"...I can't!" she gasped, gawking at the man. "I can't, Obi-Wan, Anakin-"

"I can protect you from him. I can protect you from _anything_."

"...but the _Republic_!" she cried. "My duty is _here_. I'm an instrumental part in the push for peace! I can make it happen, Obi-Wan, I can help change things! We can find a way that's better for all of us, we can reach a compromise _together_." She paused and looked up at the Sith Lord, her eyes narrowed as she watched the man calmly look away, contemplate what she said, and nod. "I can't do that if I run away with the _Separatist leader_."

"No, you're right..." He smiled and took her hand. "After the war is over. We'll go take refuge in the Mandalorian Empire, I can keep you safe from Skywalker, if that's what you want."

The words caught in her throat. The situation was difficult, and with her current condition, her options weren't good. Her husband had been taken by the Dark Side, that much was clear, and while she didn't fully comprehend the meaning, she knew that it had changed him. He had threatened to _kill_ her infant child, and if one Dark Sider would, who's to say the other wouldn't do the same just as quickly? "My child," she whispered, shrinking away from him, tentative and afraid. "My child is Anakin's."

"I don't care."

"...what?"

"I don't care," Obi-Wan said again, his golden eyes warm and inviting and filled with something that looked like tenderness to the dumbfounded Senator. "I can raise children, Padmé, and I can train a Force sensitive one. I...think I may be good at it."

"...but you _aren't the father_."

He scoffed. "The way I see it, if I am the one that raises the child, that makes me the father far more than its other genetic contributor." He shrugged easily. "My views are a bit...Mandalorian, I suppose." A moment later found Padmé Amidala in Obi-Wan's lap, the girl on her knees and straddling his hips as she cupped his face and kissed him, short, frantic, _desperate_ touches that showed how much the woman had been craving safety and protection after having lived in fear for the past month. _Everything_ came pouring forth, all her emotions, all her fears, all the panic and self-loathing in a violent wave that washed over him as she embraced him, and through it all, she finally felt _safe_.

"Obi-Wan," she gasped softly between kisses, "Anakin said he'd _kill_ our child. _Kill it_! I-if it was yours, he said he was going to _murder_ my baby!" Kenobi sucked in a sharp breath. _That_ was the reason the twins were so afraid. They had been hidden safely within the Force, so they had nothing to fear, but the tiny presences within Padmé were _terrified_ , and this must have been why. The murderous intent of their father, intent projected through the Force itself, and directed at _them_. He needed to protect these children from Anakin Skywalker, that much was certain. The Force was already doing what it could, and Obi-Wan would stand guard. He wouldn't fail the Force again.

"I won't let that happen..." he said softly, breathless, and moaned gently when the Senator slipped her hands underneath his robes and ran her fingers over the silk shirt covering his chest.

"I know we said we shouldn't do this again, but you were right about needing to protect me from my husband." The breathless man she straddled didn't move, didn't say a word, and with a keening whimper, she brought his hands to her hips, his long fingers lightly brushing against her, hesitantly at first, and then with a gentleness she hadn't known from Kenobi's touch. "And I do want this, _I do_..."

"So do I..." Obi-Wan whispered, drawing her closer to him, and they said nothing else as they slowly began undressing the other with care and gentle, exploring touches that had been absent from the other times they had tangled. Before, it had always been rough and animalistic, driven by lust rather than love, but now, suddenly, their values aligned, and Padmé not only found someone to keep her safe from the increasingly violent Anakin, but had found a man to be father to her child when her husband's suspicion and jealousy could very well see it killed. Now, it was Kenobi that was touching her gently, his fingers light and careful as they brushed over big, black bruises that covered her arms, her shoulders, her hips, her ribs, her legs and breasts and everywhere else, harsh markings that Anakin had left the day before. It was not lost on the Senator that the roles of her husband and her lover had been switched, and as she traced the long, deep scars that covered his chest, she quietly wondered how it had happened. Perhaps this too had been some manipulation of some secret evil. Or perhaps she had simply been too blinded by love to see what Anakin was becoming.

"Do you think of her when you're with me?" Padmé asked, her voice soft and uncertain, both curious and sympathetic, and Kenobi's heart hitched in his chest. A small, sad smile came to his lips as he looked down at the naked woman in his lap, her hands absently stroking his bare chest, and he looked past her to collect his thoughts, staring at their clothing that sat in a heap at the foot of the bed.

"I did," he said slowly. "But it's too painful. Imagining it was her helped me be with a woman again, but now..." He shook his head. "No woman is Satine. Imagining they are only makes it hurt more." The woman nodded, a small smile on her lips, and her wandering hands indicated that his answer didn't displease her. "Do you think of Skywalker when you're with me?"

She smiled, soft and sly, and Kenobi's breath hitched as he moaned, her hands inciting his passions and waking the deep, raw emotions of the Dark Side as the beast, tightly bound, roared and keened for satisfaction. "I did," she said, echoing her lover's answer. "But not now. Not this time." She laughed suddenly, her arms wrapping around Kenobi's neck as he lifted her and gently laid her on her back, her legs wrapping around his hips and gently urging him to become one with her. "We need to keep this secret," she whispered, groaning softly as Kenobi ran a long, gentle finger down her chest and across the dark spots on her fair skin, and Padmé _knew_ that it wouldn't be difficult to conceal, unlike before. His touch was soft, careful, almost hesitant, the Sith Lord's handling of her almost as if he were afraid to break something precious and valuable, and it felt... _safe_.

"I know...until you're ready to leave, we'll be careful."

Padmé nodded, moaning softly when her lover's hand brushed her stomach, and she felt warmth radiating from his fingertips, and the feeling seemed to resonate deep within her. Kenobi kissed her as he entered her, and Padmé felt all her fears fade away, and for the first time in what seemed like an eternity, she felt safe.


	105. Opposition

The Republic, bolstered by the tremendous victory at the Battle of Coruscant, had believed that the Separatists were over and done, had rejected talks of peace in favor of victory, had thrown out negotiations in exchange for an unconditional surrender. They had dispatched their best fleets, their strongest Jedi, the most elite of their clone forces to begin sweeping the galaxy in search of General Grievous and Obi-Wan Kenobi, the might of the Grand Army of the Republic led by General Anakin Skywalker crushing every once of opposition they had faced as they stormed Separatist worlds and brought them bact to the Republic, and _reasonable_ leadership was installed to govern the newly conquered planets. True, they stayed away from major Separatist strongholds, the shocking defeat on Felucia still fresh in their minds, but with each conquest, the galaxy came closer and closer to order. Kenobi's claims of a massive fleet seemed to be a bluff after all, the tattered fleet merely having been patched with a handful of new ships and by Star Destroyers stolen from the Republic forces they miraculously managed to defeat.

And then the Mandalorians came.

From Ryloth to Felucia, they swept out of what was formerly Hutt Space like a violent swarm, millions and millions of ruthless Mandalorians pouring from their Empire to rush to the aid of the large swaths of Confederate Space that bordered their territory. Despite their might, the Republic was spread thin, and against the sudden, ferocious attacks of the Mandalorians, the Grand Army was forced to retreat, lest they face complete destruction, allowing the Death Watch to reclaim the territory that Skywalker had spent the last month and a half securing. Mand'alor Bo-Katan was proving to be a very different leader than her sister had been, a woman who offered ultimatums instead of compromise, a warrior, not a diplomat, that shot first and would later investigate the bodies to find any answers she may have needed. The sudden onslaught against the Republic, spread thin in their confidence in their victory, exchanging strength in number for covering a wider area that appeared to offer little in the way of resistance, was brutal, without remorse and compromise.

The Death Watch was formidable, and the clone soldiers of the Republic found themselves faced with a fighting force that was _intimately_ familiar with their combat, their tactics, and it was used against them with devastating effect. What was worse was the proud Mandalorian history of being the finest Jedi killers the galaxy had ever seen, and these soldiers had been trained to do exactly that. The Mandalorian's first sweep ended in the deaths of nearly fifty Jedi, and for an Order that already saw their numbers lower than they had been in a thousand years, it was a devastating loss. It was only _after_ the retreat back to the safety of Republic Space that Bo-Katan Kryze laid down her ultimatum: in the name of her sister, the Mandalorians _would_ defend those that sought peace, and if the Republic wished to act like thugs and respond to talks of peace with acts of war, Mandalore would treat them the same way as the criminal cartels that they had extinguished.

With the threat of a _new_ war on their hands, one they could not win, the Republic army stood stationary at the edge of Republic Space as they awaited their orders from a Senate that couldn't agree on what to do next. After having fielded an absolutely furious call from an Anakin Skywalker that was nearly frothing at the mouth in his rage, Chancellor Palpatine sat in the elongated conference room, his hands steepled together, as he listened to the fool leaders of the Senate debate and argue. When he was Emperor, things like this would not be a problem. As it stood, this could be easily worked to his advantage. More war, more chaos, more indecision did nothing but further his plans, but the swift, devastating brutality of the Mandalorians was far greater than he expected. Darth Lumis, as always, had outdone himself. His press for peace, while superficially appearing to actively sabotage the Sith imperative, had come at _exactly_ the right moment, for in the Separatists' weakness, the Senators saw an opportunity for peace to be won, not through compromise, but through _victory_ , and winning the war was far more appealing to the petty, greedy senators than simply seeing it end.

Of course, not _all_ saw it this way. He watched as Senator Amidala stood before those gathered, fervently arguing her case for peace with a particularly stubborn Dug from Malastare. She had been at it all day, and had won a small coalition to her side of those that wished to reach out to Obi-Wan and see if peace was still possible, despite the current hostilities, and the threat of a Mandalorian war was making many open to the idea, though it wasn't enough. Not yet. Amidala's confidence in Kenobi's willingness to speak after the Senate had so quickly rejected his offer said she knew more than was letting on, and Palpatine's eyes roved over the girl, tuning out what was being said in favor of intense focus on this troublesome upstart. She had her uses, of course, and she was an integral part of his plan, not just to weaken the Senate in preparation for his rise to power, but in the continuing corruption of Anakin Skywalker.

Thanks to Lumis' continuing influence, the girl had quickly become more useful to him alive than dead, and it seemed that her mere presence could sent Skywalker into a fit of Dark Side fueled rage and possession. He'd have to keep her around. One vergence was difficult enough to control, but _two_ could spell doom for Sidious if he did not secure the leashes tightly around the necks of the Force nexus' that were Skywalker and Lumis. They very well may come to destroy each other, but keeping Padmé Amidala in his grasp would stay Skywalker's hand for fear of losing her, just as the madness of Darth Lumis kept the young Sith Lord from the focus he needed to wield the blade of the Dark Side with the touch of a Master, as he had been so close to doing before. It was a delicate balance, but it was one that he had walked before, and would continue to walk.

He had briefly considered forcing one to slay the other, keeping the victor to serve as his apprentice in the Empire, but he quickly discounted that when he discovered that he could bind both vergences to him, one controlled by his fear, and the other by his madness. He would have them both, two vergences in the Force, converted to dark purpose and slaved to the will of the Sith. There would be _nothing_ that could stand in his way, not even the Force itself, deprived of its precious balance when Anakin Skywalker fell to the Dark Side. The Force, like everything else, would bow to Darth Sidious, and if it didn't, if it somehow came to resist, it would be made to by the mighty vortex that Skywalker and Lumis would create, their very presences funneling the Force exactly where Sidious would direct it, a black hole too powerful for even the Force to escape.

Of course, there was the possibility that one would kill the other, which was fine as well. The result was the same, balance disrupted by the fall of the other's counter, but the power which Sidious expected to draw from two would be reduced. It was not ideal, and he hoped to avoid the outcome, but if Skywalker's lust for revenge was too great, it would become necessary. Lumis had come close to killing Skywalker during the battle of Coruscant, and would have had Sidious _not_ been present. Skywalker was young, unaccustomed to the Dark Side, but he drew upon it anyway. The vast increase in his power unbalanced him, and it would have spelled his death were the Dark Side to drift to the stronger, balanced pull of Darth Lumis, as it so often did. The Dark Side was drawn to Lumis, would flee to him to aid the prodigious youth whenever he called, but with Sidious present, the Master sitting in quiet control of the darker pulls of the Force, he prevented this, kept the Dark Side from slipping out of Skywalker's unbalanced, powerful grasp, allowing it to soak deep within him and sink its claws into the vulnerable Jedi. It evened the playing field enough to keep both men alive long enough to get out, and with that, Skywalker's fall was certain. Lumis didn't notice, of course. He had been consumed with insanity at the time, and the fury of his wrath kept his focus on the man he wanted dead, not on the silently shifting undercurrents of the Force. It was, in a word, _perfect_.

Palpatine's eyes narrowed when he looked at Amidala. Something was... _different_. He looked at her closely again, and leaned back in his chair, a thin, amused smirk on his lips when he noticed the slight distention of her stomach through the tight, form fitting gown she wore. It was barely perceptible, hardly noticeable, but this, coupled with the recent bouts of illness that had been striking her the previous months could only mean one thing. She was _pregnant_. Talking with Lumis, it seemed, could not be delayed any longer. It would be difficult, but they would have to meet, and soon. It seemed the war was swiftly going to be drawing to an end, and with the Jedi desire for peace conflicting with the Republic's cries for war, it seemed like it would be sooner rather than later. They had much to plan, _much_ to discuss.

Palpatine drew the meeting to a close. They were talking in circles anyway and nothing was getting done, which was just as well. The longer the Senate took to decide what to do about the Mandalorians, the more angry Anakin Skywalker became, and the strain on the boy would push him closer and closer to doing something reckless, something dangerous, something to pit him against the Jedi, not just in a familial fight, but in a permanent break. When he made him a Sith Lord, it would help control the terrifying power of Darth Lumis as well. Skywalker seemed to have the ability to draw Lumis into fits of insanity, and it was this mental instability that was keeping his powerful apprentice tame. He _knew_ he was mad, and had been clinging to the Master for stability, and while such dependence was not befitting a Sith _Master_ , it was expected of an apprentice. The last thing he needed was a clear and focused Darth Lumis, backed by an army of millions of Mandalorians, to rise up against him. Sidious believed he could still best the unstable boy, but only just, but the battle between them would tear the galaxy to pieces, along with the carefully crafted Sith imperative. The tatters of a galaxy couldn't be repaired into the strength of the Empire he wanted. No, they needed to be united, and Skywalker's presence gave him the means of keeping Lumis in check.

When he returned to his apartment at the very top of 500 Republica, he dismissed his guards, walked into the room, and found it _cold_ , his breath coming in visible puffs before him, and he slowly walked through the room, his vision in the darkness perfect, the Dark Side slaved to his command. He stopped when he looked at the large, circular living space to see a man sitting in _his_ chair, hands folded politely in his lap, a broad smile on his handsome face and golden eyes peering at him from the depths of the shadows.

"Hello, Master," Lumis drawled, suddenly hissing at the sharp pain in his mind as Sidious sharply rebuked him, and he laughed almost maniacally at the thrill of power fueled by the pain.

" _What_ are you doing here?" Sidious growled, his eyes darting up into the corner where he knew the security devices were installed, and his grip on the apprentice relaxed when he saw that they had already been deactivated. Lumis had always been cautious.

"I happened to be in the neighborhood, Master," Lumis continued, standing from the chair and offering it to the Master. Sidious did not move, but his eyes lit with understanding of the implication.

"Amidala." The sly, upturned smirk on his apprentice's face said everything he needed to know. "She's pregnant. Were you aware? I ask because _I_ didn't know until today."

"I knew..." Lumis continued slowly, shuffling toward the Master and kneeling before him, his shaky hands gripping the hem of his Senatorial robes, and Sidious put a hand on his apprentice's forehead, touched his mind with the Force, and hissed when he felt the Dark Side raging, the beast within him pacing and roaring and snarling with hunger, contained, but only just barely. It was perfect, exactly how he wanted him, exactly how he _needed_ him were he to introduce Skywalker as a replacement for the _other_ apprentice that Lumis had killed. He pushed in to rake through the boy's mind and was met with pain, searing and immediate, the flames so bright they burned and obscured nearly everything within him. It wasn't _ideal_ , but he could still work with this. He didn't expect Lumis' insanity to be so deep, so _complete_ , but at least for now, he maintained a tenuous grasp on reality.

"Were you thinking of telling me about this?" he growled, his hand gripping the thick blond hair, his anger expressed through the Force, not because he was _actually_ angry, but to test the reaction of the apprentice to the Master. Lumis did not disappoint. He whimpered, his shoulders shaking slightly and his head bowing as far as he could, supplicant and needy for the Master, for _direction_.

"Master, I..." he whimpered, swallowing hard to wet his dry throat. "I only just found out myself, managing the war is...far more difficult than I anticipated. Dooku was my superior in matters of ruling."

"Yes, he was..." Sidious drawled, pulling the apprentice close to him and smirking as he felt the man almost keen from the contact. "Which is why he needed to die anyway. He would come to challenge me, but _you_ , Lumis, will serve me in the shadows while I rule."

"Yes, Master."

Sidious released his apprentice and moved to the chair that Lumis had vacated and sat, breathing deeply as he looked out one of the long widows that overlooked the sprawling city of Coruscant, and a moment later, Lumis knelt beside him, and the Master could feel the student pulling at him through the Force, dark, greedy hands seeking stability. His hand in Lumis' hair once again, he pressed in hard with the Dark Side, the pacing beast within the young Sith crying out in outrage, in pain, in wicked, glorious hatred for the Sith Master, the apprentice convulsing and groaning at his side while Sidious assumed control of his madness. A moment later, and the feral beast had whimpered, laid down in its submission, and Sidious felt the young man moan in relief as the Master calmed the fury within him.

"Tell me about my new apprentice," Sidious said, and Lumis looked up at him with tired, questioning eyes. "Amidala's child."

"A dead end, Master," Lumis said softly, leaning back against his Master's leg and sighing in satisfaction. "Skywalker got there first. The child is his."

The Master's interest was piqued. "Skywalker is a Force nexus," he slowly explained, delighting when the Dark Side within his apprentice snarled in jealousy. "His child could come to be as powerful as yours was." Smouldering embers under the scorched, burned earth of Lumis' mind suddenly caught fire, small flames fanned by grief, and a short, manic laugh was quickly cut by a pitiful whimper as he grabbed the hand that wasn't twisted in his hair. A small smirk came to Sidious' lips as he looked down at the insane man. This was a grief that would never cease, and through it, Sidious could control his apprentice.

"When I said it was a dead end, Master," Lumis gasped, drawing strength from Sidious to contain the flames, "I meant it, and _not_ because the child isn't mine. The child _doesn't_ have the Force." Kenobi gasped when the hand tightened in his hair, the Dark Side suddenly seem to crack with lightning in a sudden, vicious storm. Sidious was _displeased_.

"Are you certain?" he growled dangerously, but didn't allow his apprentice to respond, violently pushing the man to the ground in disgust, his arms and legs crossing in his chair as he glowered out the window. He knew Lumis was right. Had she been with a powerful child, he would have sensed its conception, would have detected the unique presence of a Force sensitive within her, but he had to look with his _eyes_ to even see that she was with child, and if he could see it, than he would have known if a powerful being grew within her. There was nothing. The child was _normal_ , and it disgusted him, certainly diminished the value of Skywalker as a progenitor of the Sith. He would have to be certain that Lumis stayed around. The man had proven that he was able to produce powerful children, and he was an _eternally_ lustful youth. He could burden _hundreds_ of women with his prodigious children, which would be needed in the Empire.

"Padmé and her child, Force sensitive or not, still have use to us," Sidious hissed. "If need be, both can be used to manipulate him into action or inaction, and the trouble this will cause him within the Jedi makes this _useless_ child worthwhile."

"...I understand, Master."

"We need to coordinate our efforts, my friend," Sidious said softly, watching as the apprentice slowly lifted himself to his feet. "We are not yet ready for the Empire."

" _Why_ , Master?" Lumis snarled, his eyes narrowed in impatience. "Dooku is _dead_. The Confederacy may yet limp along for a time, but for what end? The Separatists are defeated, let's end this."

" _Patience_ , Lumis," Sidious said softly. "We are not yet ready to execute the Jedi. We will be soon. _Very_ soon. Do not forget the purpose of our revenge."

"...the Jedi," Lumis sighed. "The extermination of the Jedi, Master."

Sidious nodded. "With the end of the Jedi Order, the Empire will rise, and to truly kill the Jedi, we must destroy the very _memory_ of them. Executing them will be easy enough, but if we tarnish their memory, _nobody_ will look back fondly on the time of the Jedi."

"I understand, Master."

"Very good." Sidious leaned back in his chair and relaxed. "The groundwork has been laid. Soon enough, the Jedi will come to betray the Republic. Let Skywalker lead the charge. Let him lead the Jedi to their own destruction out of his hate for you. I would have the Jedi be the architects of their own demise, and Anakin Skywalker is _perfect_ for this task."

Lumis slowly nodded, slowly knelt before the Master. "And after, Master?"

"When his use to us has expired, you will end him." Sidious grinned when Lumis whimpered, almost sobbed in his relief.

" _Thank you_ , Master..."

"Will your Mandalorians follow you?"

"Where ever I ask, Master. Into the heart of a sun, if I asked." The Master nodded, his eyes to the ceiling as he considered his options.

"I will continue to make the Republic stand in the way of your peace. Build your forces and continue to fight. Allow your Mandalorians to continue to play peacekeeper to the insignificant. When the time is right, we shall form an alliance with the Mandalorians and have them join us in crushing the remainder of the Separatist dissenters. Is Bo-Katan reasonable?"

"With the right touch, yes." Sidious nodded his approval. "To do all I must, Master, I will need to stay in the Outer Rim so I can keep the war going."

"I agree. Now that you are the leader of the Separatists, meeting will be far more difficult. I will contact you if our direction changes, but otherwise, we shall be rejoined in the new Sith Empire." Lumis bowed deeply and turned to go when the Master quietly said, " _Wait_." He turned and looked at Sidious, inhaling sharply when he saw the Master's eyes piercing yellow in the dark with hunger and power and greed. "You have discovered immortality," he said. It wasn't a question. Lumis swallowed hard.

"...yes."

" _How_." Kenobi winced at the harsh tone, looked down at his hands and found them to be shaking.

"Through the Force, Master," he said slowly, "I can sense all life, every presence of every being, as can all those who feel the Force. It is...nothing special." Sidious hissed in frustration, and the Dark Side reared back, violent and angry, and bore down upon the apprentice, forcing him to his knees, and Kenobi gasped in pain and anguish as he felt his control slipping, the blood in his body beginning to bubble and boil under the furious heat of the Force.

" _How, Lumis_."

"Master, I find the Force, I sense it in others and I...draw it within myself. I-I do not have the skill to teach, Master, and I would certainly not presume to teach you!"

Sidious scoffed and released the boy, the raging of the Dark Side easing back into peaceful calm as the Master watched his apprentice slowly rise, gasping softly as he recovered from the pain. From what Lumis had described, the task was immeasurably easy. There must have been something more to it, but if the student had discovered it, certainly Sidious would have the skill to replicate it. He watched Lumis for a moment as the man struggled, the swell of pain weakening his tenuous control, his shoulders shivering and shaking with the strain. Slowly, Sidious began to feed pleasure into the man, watching Lumis go from painful twitching to moaning mess. It would have been without point to end this session on a poor foot.

"There is knowledge and power beyond your imagining in the holocrons I keep," Sidious said softly. "When we see each other next, I will show them to you as... _appreciation_ for this exchange of knowledge." Lumis bowed deeply, and Sidious smirked when he felt gratitude, appreciation and loyalty pouring off the man.

"You are too kind to me, my Master..."

"Go now," Sidious whispered. "There is work to do."

Lumis bowed to excuse himself and swept from the room, exiting the Chancellor's apartments with his hood drawn and silently entering the elevator, waiting peacefully for it to take him to his indicated floor, his body still shaking from the pain and pleasure his Master had inflicted upon him. The elevator hissed open, and he quickly strode across the hall, a few quick taps on the console by a door granting him access, and he walked inside the dark recesses of Padmé Amidala's apartments. He casually walked past C-3PO, nonchalantly waving his hand in the direction of the droid, and it shut off without a word. He could sense Padmé within her bedroom, her presence calm and restful in the embrace of sleep, but he didn't go in to disturb her. Instead, Obi-Wan say upon the ground, his legs crossed, his eyes fixed before him, and within a moment, all the unsteadiness dropped from his hands, his shoulders ceased shaking, and the Dark Side purred within him, satisfaction seeping through his entire being as he smirked in triumph.

" _And you left the Jedi for_ that?!" Kenobi rolled his eyes as he closed them, and sunk into the Force, the shores cold, the waters calm, and Qui-Gon Jinn stood next to it, his arms crossed over his chest and tapping his foot impatiently. His image was crisp, clear, and almost, _almost_ looked as though he were not made of mist, almost seemed as though he wouldn't simply fade away if the wind blew. Still he could not contact the others. Still he could not manifest outside the currents of the Force. Obi-Wan's presence was like a beacon, and Qui-Gon had spent a fair bit of time tethering himself to it. He had tied himself to Anakin as well, but his wrathful student had severed the connection in his fury and pain, as if to cut himself off from an old life, a part of himself he no longer felt connected to. It was, in a word, _very_ Sith.

"I left the Jedi for the _Dark Side_ , Qui-Gon. I left them to join the Sith so I could learn true power, and I left them to get away from _you_." The ghost looked at him for a long moment, and then began to laugh uncontrollably. Obi-Wan glowered, his jaw clenched with tension and anger, but he was resolved to put up with it. After all, _this_ was his new reality. "It is _not_ funny."

" _Yes it is!_ " Qui-Gon said between breathless gasps. " _It's funny because now you're stuck with me! Forever_!" Kenobi cursed under his breath as he touched the waters, visions rippling across its surface, all things he had already seen. Slowly, Qui-Gon sat beside him, the laughter gone and his face drawn and somber. " _...you were right about it all. There's a Sith Lord in the Senate. Everything, all of this is driven by him_." Obi-Wan nodded. " _You need to tell the Jedi, you need to warn them._ "

"The Jedi are already dead, Qui-Gon. There's no stopping it now. And even if I could, I _wouldn't_. Your Order is _broken_. You saw that long before I, and you were vilified for it, called radical and extreme for following the will of the Force instead of the will of your Republic masters."

"... _and because of it, the Jedi now follow the Sith Master_." Qui-Gon growled in frustration, his hand running through his hair. " _You're right_ ," he said softly. " _You're right about all of it. This is the will of the Force. The Jedi Order is...corrupted. It needs to begin again. The Jedi haven't followed the will of the Force for so long, they have forgotten how, or they would have felt the change toward darkness_."

Obi-Wan slowly nodded, reaching out with his hand and passing it through Qui-Gon's ethereal body. Though it looked like mist, it felt... _warm_. Comforting, like the Force in its purest form. "Sidious can conceal his presence, but I was a _Padawan_. If the Dark Side wasn't the will of the Force, none of us could have slipped under your detection. Not even my Master. Maybe you wouldn't know _who_ , but you'd be able to feel that something was wrong. The Force is striking back against the Jedi," he said softly, running his hand through the waters, the ripples changing the images to the blackened, burned field of dead Jedi. "This is the future, Qui-Gon. The will of the Force has been ignored by the Jedi in favor of serving a corrupt and greedy Republic. The Force can only take so much before it lashes out, and this is it. It's time for the Jedi to pay."

Qui-Gon was silent for a long while, watching as Obi-Wan flipped through the images, carefully examining each one, closing his eyes and quietly muttering the Code of the Sith under his breath to focus himself. " _It sounds like the twins_ ," he said softly, and Obi-Wan looked up at him in confusion. Qui-Gon touched the waters, mimicking Kenobi's motions, and the rippling of the waters simply cleared the visions away. Rolling his eyes, Obi-Wan touched the water's surface, bringing the water to stillness before he ran his hand over the surface, and the image of the twins appeared. Qui-Gon flashed the unamused Obi-Wan a sheepish smile.

"You Jedi can't do anything right," Kenobi mumbled. "No wonder you're all fated to die." He paused. " _Sith hells_ , Qui-Gon, you can't even _die_ right!"

" _I've always been a disappointment_..." he muttered. " _Your twins, Obi-Wan, focus. Your Master can't sense them, just like the Jedi can't sense the Sith. That means something._ "

"Don't think the meaning is lost on me, Qui-Gon, I understand it." He took a deep breath and looked at the image of the children. "My Master has done something, or _will_ do something that is making the Force snap back at him."

" _Could it be Anakin_?" Qui-Gon asked, and Obi-Wan bit his lip and looked away.

"...I don't know. You and I have manipulated the kriffing hell out of him. If I wasn't invaluable to him before, I sure am now. Honestly...I was expecting the visions to change." He placed his hand on the water, the ripples changing the images rapidly, too fast for Qui-Gon to see them all. "But they're all the same. Maybe he was never going to abandon me. Maybe insanity really has made me paranoid."

Qui-Gon hissed dismissively and instinctively reached up to pull at the Padawan braid that had long since been cut, his hand instead phasing through the Sith's head, and Kenobi shivered, glaring at the Jedi. " _You don't believe that any more than I do. I'm not helping you defeat your Master on the whims of a madman, you are right about all of it._ " Obi-Wan said nothing and looked back at the waters and the visions that slowly ran through them. Qui-Gon _had_ been helpful, loathe as he was to admit it. The spirit had come to him after Kenobi had been touched by Padmé's twins, and he came with a plan. They would do together what neither could do alone. They would begin to deceive Darth Sidious. The madness was easy enough to fake, but his mental state was not, something Qui-Gon was able to shield against with the furious blinding of his own presence. Together, they found a way to lie to Sidious without him knowing, so they hoped, and it had seemed successful. Kenobi got everything he wanted out of Sidious.

At least, that's what it appeared. Sidious would be loathe to part with him now, especially after he learned how Kenobi kept himself youthful. It was instinctual, of course, something that could not be taught, but had to be _felt_ , and Kenobi suspected that if Sidious had the talent for such, he would have discovered it a long time ago, and mounting frustrations with his inability to accomplish it would keep Kenobi indispensable to the Master. It certainly didn't cut Skywalker out of the equation, but it was a step in the right direction. When the Force's work was done, when the Jedi all lay dead, when calm, peaceful darkness and order through Imperial strength took hold, the revenge of the Sith would be complete, and Sidious' role would be at an end. Obi-Wan would kill him, and he would rise to be the Master of the Sith, raising a thousand, thousand Force sensitive men, women and children to follow the will of the Force into the depths of the Dark Side. A new Sith Order would be born, one that learned from the Sith and Jedi that came before them. All in their own way ignored the will of the Force, and all of them had perished. The way he saw it, there was only one way forward. They would follow the will of the Force, and they would never fall again.

" _I'm sorry_..." Qui-Gon said softly, and it snapped Obi-Wan out of his thoughts, his eyes settling on the vision in the water of the dead Jedi. Qui-Gon was looking at it as well. " _How I handled Anakin, I_ -" He stopped and bit down on his lip, shook his head, and began again. " _My handling of you was...unworthy. You deserved better than a Master that put the whims of the Force above the needs of his student._ "

Kenobi scoffed. "You going soft, Jedi? You almost sound like you regret taking Anakin in." The spirit shook his head.

" _I don't regret bringing Anakin to the Jedi. I regret how I treated you. There were so many conversations that could have gone better, so many talks we should have had but didn't_." The Jedi sighed heavily and looked sidelong at the Sith Lord, a man that, had he done better, could have been a Jedi Master far greater than what now sat on the Council. " _Things are different here,_ " he said softly, indicating to the realm of the Force they sat in. " _I see things so much clearer, things make so much more sense than they did when I just blindly followed my instincts. We were always destined to come to this, Obi-Wan, and perhaps you were always meant to fall_."

"Because of Skywalker," he said softly, but the Jeid shook his head.

" _I don't think so. You are a vergence in the Force, Obi-Wan, but you weren't always. The Force made you a nexus after you joined the Sith_. _You were made to counter something else._ " Kenobi opened his mouth to protest, but quickly closed it. Qui-Gon was right. Perhaps, because of Anakin, the Force made him fall, made him a nexus to serve as the balance to the light, but now, Anakin was falling, and had perhaps begun his fall long ago, if his brother Owen was to be believed. Obi-Wan inhaled sharply when the idea struck. Anakin may be a vergence, may have the most potential of any Jedi _ever_ , but he was also stained with darkness. The Force worked in mysterious ways, far more than Kenobi could ever comprehend. Who was to say that being a vergence made him Skywalker's counterpoint by default? It made them _similar_ , yes, but not necessarily opposites. And there was a brighter light in the Jedi Order than Anakin Skywalker, one so strong, so powerful, so bright that no darkness could touch it.

 _Kriffing Qui-Gon Jinn_.

He didn't know, perhaps would never know, and maybe it didn't matter in the end, but Kenobi had fallen because of Qui-Gon, _Skywalker_ was falling because of Qui-Gon. Everything, _everything_ hinged on him and his miraculous survival on Tatooine. The pulse of the Dark Side strong enough to draw the attention of the Sith Lord Darth Maul, enough for him to miss his killing blow when a Jedi Padawan had embraced the darkness for the power to slay an enemy far greater than himself. Qui-Gon's life was bought with Obi-Wan's fall. _He_ was the factor that the Force was balancing out. Qui-Gon's survival was a _mistake_ , and a Force that flowed freely toward the Dark Side corrected it, _balanced_ it by delivering Obi-Wan into the hands of the Sith. The darkness may have had Darth Lumis, but the light had Qui-Gon Jinn, the immortal Jedi, so one with the Force, one with the _light_ that he could not be killed.

And now Qui-Gon was dead.

... _sort of_.

Obi-Wan groaned as he clutched his head. In hindsight, all of this made sense. Even his elevation to Force nexus coincided with Qui-Gon's rise to immortality, and he had felt the Force change, shift when Dooku had struck the Jedi down. He had assumed it was because of Anakin's plunge into darkness, the vergence of light becoming one with the Dark Side, which greatly upset the balance that he and Skywalker had established. It all fit too perfectly, but he couldn't grasp what any of it could mean. His rise mirrored Qui-Gon's exactly, much better than it ever mirrored Skywalker's. He and Anakin had always been similar. _Too_ similar, perhaps, travelers on the same road as opposed to those that walked upon opposite shores.

The meaning, though, was lost on him. His counterpoint had died, or at least left the realm of mortality. The shift in the Force he felt may not have been Qui-Gon's death, but Qui-Gon traversing the gap between them, shedding the constraints of mortality to cross the breech and stand beside one he was always meant to oppose. The question now, was how would the Force seek to balance _this_?

"I stand opposite you in the Force," Obi-Wan said lifelessly, and Qui-Gon nodded.

" _And now we stand united_."

"And with your death, the Force has moved Skywalker to the Dark Side." He growled, the water disrupting under the wrath of the Dark Side that rose in response to the Sith Lord's confusion. "Where in all the Sith hells does that leave _me_?!" Qui-Gon didn't have any answers, and he was beginning to feel nauseous. With a groan of frustration, Kenobi slipped back into himself and dragged his feet into Padmé's room to lay beside the sleeping woman and coax the twins out of hiding. He was missing something, and perhaps the warmth of their touch would lend him the clarity he needed.


	106. High Risk

"I only saw him kill two of us," Aayla Secura said, sitting upon her seat in the Jedi High Council, her hand entwined with a worshipful Kit Fisto. Whatever it was that existed between the Nautolan and the Twi'lek was ignored by the other Jedi Masters. There were more important things to worry about than two Jedi finding comfort and relief with each other in these dark times. Sanity would reassert itself when the war was over. "Quinlan killed three, and Kenobi... _made_ one Knight kill another."

"What of the other four?" Mace asked, and Secura shook her head.

"We left them to tend to the fighting above the planet. I don't know what happened up there, but I chased Vos for _days_ on Felucia, and he only really engaged us when his _Master_ showed up." Kit squeezed her hand, and she smiled softly at him before turning her attention back to the other Masters. "It was Kenobi, it had to be. He's stolen our ships before. He must have killed the others. I have no doubt about that."

"There were fifty thousand clone soldiers on those ships," Windu said, shaking his head. "One man, no matter _how_ powerful in the Force, cannot stand against an army of that size, so _what happened_?" Secura looked at Master Yoda, the little creature small and silent in his seat. Since her arrival at the Jedi Temple, she had spent the last week alone with the Grandmaster, quietly discussing the events of her trial again and again and meditating together. _Something_ was stirring, she knew. Something deep and hidden that went far beyond what she could imagine, and Yoda was beginning to come to grips with whatever it could be. She was only released last night, declared cleared of any influence, and malicious intent by Kenobi, and was told to report to the Council in the morning to answer all the questions the Masters had.

There was a lot of them.

When Yoda waved his hand at her for her to go on, Secura took a deep breath and, nodding, said, "I saw what he did to my troops on the ground. He just...lifted his hand and undid them. I could feel them suffering, they were being _tortured_. And when they rose, they weren't my troops anymore, they were _his_." She clenched her jaw, her eyes narrowed in anger, and she tightly clutched Kit's hand. "One hundred of my _best men_ , and he took them from me like it was _nothing_. I can only assume he did the same aboard the Star Destroyers. So _no_ , Master Windu. One man _can_ destroy an army."

"And he _made_ a Jedi turn?" Mace gasped. "Just like _that_?"

"It would have taken some effort," Master Billaba said, her holographic image flickering. With her new Padawan in hand, the Master had overcome her injury and was now back in the field. She had been fighting on Mygeeto when the Mandalorians attacked, far enough away that she wasn't effected by the ferocious torrent of historic Jedi slayers. "He had to work to break me. Give him long enough, and he may be able to break the best of us, but he would have to be terribly focused to do it."

"He was _fighting_ , Master," Aayla gasped. "Fighting two Jedi _and_ torturing a hundred clones. His attention _was_ divided, so how could he do it?"

Depa simply shrugged. "We are foolish if we consider him anything but a Master of the Force. They were Knights. They were _outclassed_ , and not by a small margin."

"Then we need to send our best," Mace growled. "And not just one or two, but enough to combat him and all his followers, enough to hold his attention and keep it divided. Kenobi needs to die before he becomes an even bigger threat." Mace didn't see the blindingly fast strike of Yoda's stick as it descended upon his bald head with a loud, sharp _thwack_. Mace growled in pain, rubbed his head, and looked at the Grandmaster, the tiny creature sitting peaceful and serene as though he hadn't moved at all.

"Of all things," Yoda softly rasped, "believe _this_ , do you?" He shook his head. "Learned much of Obi-Wan, we have. Peaceful, he is not, but shifting, the Force is. Killed a Sith Lord, he has. Reached out to end the war, he did."

"No, no, no," Mace said quickly. "He's done this before, and it was used against us! He's trying to manipulate us!"

"Gave back Secura, he did." Yoda pointed his stick at Mace's chest. "No reason, he had, to do this. Given her back, he would have, if willing to talk, the Republic had been." He frowned as he groaned in though. "A feeling, I have, that changed, Obi-Wan is." He nodded. "Meet with him, we must."

"This is a _terrible_ idea!" Mace cried. "Skywalker has the right of it, if Grievous and Kenobi are dead, this war is _over_."

"Over, this war would be now, if reason, the Republic saw." Yoda closed his eyes and tapped his stick rhythmically upon the ground as he organized his thoughts. "A Sith Lord in the Senate, there is. _Darth Sidious_." Yoda shook his head. "Move against him, Obi-Wan will. Right, Qui-Gon was."

"With all due respect, Master Yoda," Mace growled, "you can't just go _meet_ with a Sith Lord because he gave us a Jedi back when he didn't have to!" Yoda gestured to Aayla, and the entirety of the Council look at her. She refused to meet their gazes. She didn't like being interrogated.

"He was," she said softly, " _perfectly_ civil. He made his home mine, I was _never_ a prisoner in the week I was in his company." She paused to bite her lip for a moment, uncertain how to explain what it had been like to be in the presence of darkness personified and feel nothing but peace. "He's powerful, Masters," is what she finally settled on. "So, _so_ powerful. He doesn't need to reach out for peace, he doesn't need to do any of this, and he _certainly_ didn't have to set me free when he could have easily used me to further extort the Jedi." She shrugged. "Mace is probably right about him wanting us to fight exactly like this, but he seemed... _unconcerned_ about the Jedi. Like none of us were a threat to him at all."

"Sith arrogance..." Mace grumbled, his arms crossed over his chest, but Secura shook her head.

"No. His focus was on Anakin Skywalker and...something else. I don't know what. But when he was taking me back, he said that he'd soon be the _only_ Sith Lord." She took a deep breath, and felt relief wash over her. "Master Yoda is right. He's turning against his Master."

"Mace sputtered a moment before he managed to spit, " _We can't make deals with Sith Lords_!"

"Why not?" Yoda asked calmly. "Begin somewhere, peace must."

"The Jedi and the Sith have fought since the very beginning!" Mace shouted, and Yoda just looked at him with big, inquisitive eyes.

"What over?"

" _The Force_!" Yoda frowned.

"Thousands of years ago, began, this conflict did. End, it must, or again and again, happen, this will."

"You want to make _peace_ with the Sith..." Mace said, slumping back in his seat.

"In great danger, is the Jedi Order," Yoda said softly. "A chance, this is, a great risk, but take it, we must. Peace, we must make, with Obi-Wan Kenobi, and lead us to his Mster, he will. Destroy him together, we may."

"Only to have _him_ rise as Lord of the Sith!" Mace snapped, and Yoda just looked at him, unimpressed with his anger.

"Yes," he calmly said. "Dangerous, that is. But more dangerous it will be, if peace, we do not try to make." Yoda gripped his stick tighter and looked at each of the Masters gathered. "Where says it that Jedi and Sith _must_ fight, hmm?"

"The _Sith_ say it," Mace snapped, and Luminara rose from her seat. She had seen silent, sullen and morose for some time, and she finally had enough.

"It needs to end one day, Mace," she said softly. "Obi-Wan has been known to be reasonable in the past, and if he's Lord of the Sith, perhaps things may change. I'm going to go talk to him."

"Are you _out of your mind_?!" Mace shouted, but the Mirialan had already left, leaving the Council in a stunned silence as they tried to sort out what to do next.

* * *

It had taken months to do, but she had done it. For _weeks_ , she had simply observed the planet from the safety provided by the swirling, clouded atmosphere of the extremely nearby gas giant, Jestafad, a single, small ship unnoticed by the might of the dreadnaughts and the Star Destroyers that hung in space over the burning world. She saw fighters and heavy cruisers and transports constantly flying to and from the fiery planet, and after some time, she knew _exactly_ where the palace was located. It was encased in a planetary shield, a wicked, vicious defensive measure that would fry the systems of any ship that passed by without the proper security clearance, but she couldn't imagine _why_ the planet needed it. Only someone out of their mind would attack this place.

After that, the rest of her time was dedicated to finding a way in, and she had tried _so hard_ to somehow get a Mandalorian ship, which she suspected would have the proper codes, but she had never been successful. That clearance, it seemed, was the first thing that was dumped from the ship's memory when any kind of alarm was sounded, and she was good, but not _that_ good. Still, she tried, periodically returning to gaze at Mustafar, to count the ships, to see if the shields were miraculously down, to see if the Master of the palace was in or out. It was always hard to tell. She kept her communications attuned to the holonet, as she always did, just to keep up to date on how things were going, how the Republic was fairing. She heard a great deal about the Separatists and the Mandalorians, fighting together in a tentative, conditional alliance. She heard about the ships _Enigma_ , commanded by fallen Jedi Quinlan Vos, and _Silence_ , commanded by terrorist Padawan Barriss Offee, the two winning victory after victory to liberate Confederate worlds from Republic hold. It was difficult to hear, but she always listened. _Always_.

Then one day, after months of waiting and careful planning, she returned to Mustafar and saw _all of them_. _Negotiator, Liberator, Enigma,_ and _Silence_ , the four prides of the Separatist fleet all present in the space above the burning world. Another opportunity like this would not present itself. Thrusting the accelerator forward, the tiny starfighter sped out of the cover of the gas giant and zipped low under the massive ships, angling the nose of her fighter _just_ right as she approached the atmosphere, and hoped that the approach was right to land her close to the palace. It would have to be. Anakin Skywalker had taught her a thing or two about flying, and she would need to use all her skills now, since the ship would be _badly_ damaged as it powered through the planetary shield. It didn't matter. This was a one way trip anyway, and Ahsoka Tano had no hopes of being able to return.

As suspected, crashing through the shield was like hitting a wall, and the ship had lurched and veered off course, and Ahsoka shut her eyes and looked away as the control panel before her erupted into a shower of sparks and arching electricity, but she kept her hands upon the accelerator and the yoke. It was hardly responsive, but it was good enough. When she opened her eyes, all she could see was flames, from her ship and from the planet below, and she pulled back hard on the accelerator to slow her rapid entry, her jaw clenched tight in focus as she tried to drown out the sound of blaring warning alarms and frantically flashing emergency lights. She jerked hard on the yoke, willing it to respond, which it did, but badly, and as the nose of the ship dipped down, she could see it. The towering palace of Mustafar, black and expansive with a single, massive tower rising high above the rest of it. She pulled the yoke back, the ship groaning and reluctantly complying as the nose tilted up, and a moment later, she felt the bottom of the ship strike something hard, sending the little craft spinning and skidding and screeching upon hard ground.

She pulled the hatch release, but the cockpit shielding stayed fixed overhead. It was jammed. With a cures of frustration, the Togruta harnessed the Force, touched all the fear and pent up anger and disappointment she held within her, and with a snarl of fury, she pushed upwards with the Force, the raw power of the blast shattering the glass, and Ahsoka jumped out of the opening to land tumbling on the ground, the ship screeching and sparking as it fell over a nearby edge and into the lava drifts below. With a groan, she stood, stretched, rubbed her head and quickly assessed her damage. She was bruised badly in some places, but nothing was seriously injured. She squinted as she looked around, the raging heat burning her eyes and making it very difficult to see, but she was alive and on solid ground, a stretch of hard, refined black metal that appeared to be something of a landing strip. Before her stood the palace, tall and looming above her, and it reached upwards almost higher than she could see. The sprawling expanse must have been far above them. When she was crashing, she hadn't seen that the structure dropped over the side of the cliff it was sitting on as well, but that is where she stood. She frowned. She had badly miscalculated her landing. Anakin would have been _so_ disappointed.

Slowly, Ahsoka limped toward the palace, drawing closer to the large landing door she could barely see upon the black of the building. She wondered if anyone even knew she was here. She suspected they must, but if they did, they were clearly unconcerned. _Nobody_ was around. The doors weren't even open. Perhaps they simply decided to stay safely behind the walls of the fortress. She had heard that the planet had been attacked once, and seeing it up close now, it wasn't surprising that it had failed. But they couldn't keep her out. Activating her lightsabers, she drove them into the large, locked door, the heat-resistant metal taking longer than usual to begin glowing as the metal liquified. She grit her teeth and pressed harder, the effort of cutting through straining her muscles, her arms shaking with the prolonged exertion in the blistering heat. It had taken _far_ too long, but she finally got through, leaping through the tiny hole she had made and rolling out of her dive when she hit the ground.

As soon as she stood, she found herself blasted back with a powerful pulse that made her fatigued muscles twitch and convulse and she struck the wall, the impact making a long, low sound reverberate through the air. She groaned on the ground, her muscles aching from the impact of her second crash that day, and her head ringing with pain as she struggled to rise. She groaned softly in irritation when she hears the sharp whine of a blaster being primed and a light, amused chuckle echo in the large, empty hangar, the lighting dim, but she could still see clearly. Or, _would_ have been able to, had her vision not been swimming as it was.

"You aren't very smart, are you, Jedi?" the voice asked, and Ahsoka froze for a moment, than glanced up in recognition as she felt the presence of a clone, so alike the ones she served beside, but so, so much different, so much younger than any clone she fought with, and she found herself staring at black and red Mandalorian armor, fitted to perfection on a frame not yet fully grown. She knew him, and the slight waver of the warrior's hand betrayed his own shock at seeing her.

"Boba Fett," she said, soft and sad, her hands raised above her head in surrender, and she smiled when the boy tore his helmet off and looked at her with wide, surprised eyes and a face that was flushed from more than just heat. "I thought you died. I thought they _killed_ you."

"Why should you think any different?" he said, keeping his weapon trained on her, and trying to sound cold, angry, _indifferent_ , but he was met with considerable failure on that count. "You all just _left me_. _And_ you took my ship!"

"There was no way we could have gotten to you," she said defensively. "When we left, you were _on the ground_. He had a lightsaber at your throat."

"Y-yeah," Fett said sheepishly. "That doesn't happen much anymore. Dad's trained me really well." He growled and shook his head in irritation. " _Cody_. Cody's trained me." The smile on the girl's face told him that he hadn't gotten away with that slip.

"He _adopted_ you?"

"He's _training me_!" Boba snarled, raising his weapon again. "Why are you here, Jedi?"

"...I'm no Jedi," she said quietly. "And I'm here to see my Master."

He looked at her appraisingly, held the blaster to the Togruta's head, and took the lightsabers from her belt. Ahsoka offered no resistance. Resistance wasn't part of the plan. _What was a Padawan without a Master_? A question that echoed in her mind incessantly since her time with the Jedi had come to an end, and she could take it no longer. She needed to know. Dark Side or no, Quinlan Vos was _everything_ to her. He would know what to do.

"Your Master," Boba said quietly, holstering his weapon and picking up his helmet, tucking it under his arm. "Vos, or the Shadow King?"

"...I'm not sure anymore." Fett nodded in understanding.

"Come on. Keep close, I'll take you to them." The Togruta nodded, and quickly moved to stand beside the young former bounty hunter, her gaze fixed straight ahead and trying not to notice as he tried to look at her out of the corner of his eye. "Did you bring anyone with you?" Fett asked, trying to sound demanding, but he came across as merely curious. Ahsoka couldn't help but wonder why. The boy was a seasoned bounty hunter, but he was acting like some blushing, stuttering Padawan. She smiled softly.

"Only me," she said. "There was only room for me in my ship. I didn't expect to make it this far. And I don't expect to come back." Boba looked at her this time, putting aside all pretense of pretending he wasn't and saw grim determination on her face, her stride confident, her mannerisms strong and forceful, even in the unfamiliar territory, even in a place where Jedi simply did not return from. She was... _feisty_. He liked that. And he had _no_ idea what to even do with that, so they walked in silence through the corridors of the palace.

As they walked out of the elevator into what Ahsoka had assumed was the sprawling complex she had seen on her crash, the palace changed, the walls build with black stone inlaid with gold, large windows lined large rooms to let in the red light of the lava flows they overlooked. The palace was... _magnificent_ , dark and ominous, yes, but also strangely beautiful and absolutely _soaked_ in the Dark Side. It was so thick in the air, she could almost feel it enter her lungs as she breathed, the pressure so great she felt her sensitive montrails complain and set her head to throbbing. But it also was... _soothing_. Calming in a way she couldn't understand, the chill of the Force a stark, refreshing contrast to the heat of the lava outside. She knew she should resist, knew the Jedi looked down upon such feelings, _knew_ that no true Jedi would feel a strange ease in the darkness of this place, but Ahsoka did.

She could hear faint sounds as they walked, and slowly, as the Mandalorian beside her brought them through the spacious, opulent palace, the faint sounds became distant, tortured screams, drawling louder and louder the longer they walked until the sound seemed to echo off the walls around them. Ahsoka winced, her sudden discomfort catching Fett's attention, and he laughed softly.

"That's alright," he said reassuringly, "it's just Maul."

Ahsoka stopped in her tracks, her jaw slack and eyes wide. " _Maul_?" she asked, astounded. " _Darth Maul_?"

"No," Boba said. "Not Darth. The Shadow King says that's a term of fear and respect. It's just Maul." He paused for a moment to shrug. "Or slave. Or slut. Or a hundred other names, but _never_ Darth."

"Why is he here?" she asked absently, wincing when she asked. She already knew the answer, and she didn't want to hear it.

"They torture him. _Everyone_ torture him." He looked at the Togruta, confused, when he found her to be appalled, like it was some awful thing. "What? He killed the Mand'alor. Death's too good for him." Ahsoka could find nothing to say to that, and she quietly followed Fett once again. She, to some extent, understood revenge. Perhaps not in the Sith way, but in her own.

When Boba opened the large door in front of him, the cries and wails intensified, and Ahsoka felt her conviction falter when she looked about the elegant, beautiful living room and saw the enormous white rancor, the fabled beast that belonged to Obi-Wan Kenobi, with the small, weeping, bloody form of Maul held in his giant clawed hand. And beside the beast stood the Sith Lord himself, calm and collected and poised, at peace even in the sounds of suffering as he looked upon a galactic map, pointing to different spots and talking to a clone beside him and...

 _Quinlan Vos_.

With a strangled cry, Ahsoka ran toward her Master and found herself suddenly stopped, frozen in place by the weight of the Dark Side, the pounding in her head intensifying as the Force roared around her. A moment later and she was listed into the air, a firsm, but not strangling hold upon her neck, and she kicked her legs in an attempt to break free, but stopped when she found herself looking down into the glowing gold eyes of Darth Lumis.

"Ahsoka Tano..." Kenobi drawled softly, a cruel, hungry smirk on his lips. "I have been waiting _so_ long to see you again..."

"Obi-Wan..." Vos said, creeping toward his friend, his hands outstretched as if he were pleading, but a swift glare from the Sith Lord told him not to approach any closer.

"When last we met," the Sith said, cold, menacing, his eyes flashing dangerously and the grip upon her throat seeming to tighten, " _you_ nearly killed me. Or you stabbed me, in any case." He grinned. "Right in the back, my traitorous little Jedi."

" _I'd do it again_ ," Ahsoka found herself snarling despite herself, pushing past all the fear she felt and grasping at raw anger and the power that came with it. _This_ was the man that made her Master fall. _This_ was the man that had left her directionless, purposeless, deprived of her friends, and now deprived of the Jedi she once knew to be family. She could _never_ go back, not when they had betrayed her the way they had, not when she was trained by a Master that was drawn to darkness, not when she felt it in herself as well. And as she thought all this and more, the Sith's grin became wider, his eyes brighter, and it only served to make her more angry.

"Have you come to finish the job?" he calmly asked the snarling former Padawan, more amused than angry, and Ahsoka stopped her writhing and glared at him.

"...no," she said, shaking as she looked at him, as she _felt_ him within her, as she had once felt before, and she didn't have the power to stop him. "I'm... _lost_."

"Lost?" Kenobi looked behind him when Vos whimpered, carefully observing his friend, and Kenobi closed his eyes, standing silent as he reached deep into the Force for guidance. He met her gaze once again when he had his answer, but this time, it wasn't cruel or amused. It was _sympathetic_ , and Ahsoka felt herself shiver. "For so long, I have seen you in my visions," he muttered, and the Togruta felt herself being lowered, could feel the ground beneath her feet, and was quickly made to kneel before him. "Your presence was a nuisance, but you have since been changing and shifting..." Kenobi crouched before her, a long finger hooking beneath her chin and forcing her to look into his eyes. "I was going to kill you before, but now...you're of interest to me." He released her, both physically and through the Force, and Ahsoka caught herself before she lurched to the ground. "You're lucky that I'm having something of a personal crisis at the moment, or you would already be dead."

The Sith waved his hand dismissively, and a moment later, Ahsoka found herself held tightly in Quinlan's arms, the Kiffar Master squeezing so hard that she could barely breathe, and clutched tightly to him, the Togruta began to weep, slowly at first, and then freely as she remembered that the restrictions imposed upon Jedi no longer applied to her.

"Master," she whimpered, clutching Vos' robes tightly between her fingers, "I've had no idea what to do, I-"

"Hush now," Quinlan said softly, gently, and pulled her closer to him. "Everything's alright now, Ahsoka..."

"No, it isn't!" She violently pulled away from him and glared up into his face, those brown eyes once a dark, warm brown now stained yellow and red, and she found she could barely look at him. "Master, did you stop to think _once_ about me when you abandoned the Jedi?! What was supposed to happen to _me_?! What was I supposed to do! Nobody knows, Master! A Padawan is supposed to follow their Master everywhere, but following you leads to darkness!"

"You..." Kenobi said softly, and Ahsoka's eyes darted to the Sith, narrowed as she felt anger build inside her. "You are no Jedi, young one."

"...not anymore." The Togruta laughed bitterly. "I left the Jedi. After I tried to save you, Master, I..." She stopped and shook her head. "There's darkness inside of me. I don't know if you put it there, or if it's my own, but _you_ fell to the Dark Side. How could I stay with them? I may not follow you, Master Quinlan, but you trained me, and you fell, so how could I be prepared to resist when you weren't?" She sniffled and looked away. "You...were the greatest Jedi I ever knew, Quinlan. I don't know what to do. _Help me_."

It was a rare thing for Quinlan Vos to be speechless, but now, he found himself at a loss for words. Slowly, silently, he pulled the girl back into his embrace, and she did not pull away. "I'm sorry, Ahsoka..." he whispered, holding her close, and he found himself shaking. They just stood there, clinging to each other like they were all the other hand, and Obi-Wan looked at her curiously. Ahsoka was something new. Something _different_. One who left the Jedi, not to join the Dark Side, but to flee from it. She was a shadow in his vision, one that strode among the dead unseen and had a keen interest in the Sith Lord. She wasn't one that walked in the light, not anymore, but she wasn't one that reached for darkness either. This girl was something in between, and it was... _beautiful_. Like twilight, the fading light bringing with it the rising darkness, and she sat firmly in the beauty of both. This girl...was not his enemy.

He laid a hand on the rancor's head, and with a low, soft growl, the creature bounded from the room with Maul gripped in his teeth, the sobs and screams fading into nothing. "You can still follow me, my Padawan," Vos finally said, looking down at the small girl in his arms, but she shook her head.

"Not here, Master..." she whispered sadly. "Not to the Sith, I can't...not after all I've seen them do, not after what I saw what you have become." She smiled, shaking softly as she watched emotions fly across his face. "Ventress wasn't lying, Master." The Kiffar tensed, but Ahsoka didn't care. She knew she was going to die here anyway. The Sith Lord would kill her, but maybe her death would pull her Master back toward the light. It was all she could hope for. The pain of the Dark Side was far too much. She had seen that.

"Don't talk about Ventress..." Vos quietly warned, but the girl wasn't listening.

"As soon as we lost you on Raxus," she said softly, "as soon as we found a way to return to Coruscant, we went to find help to rescue you. She got the best bounty hunters she knew." Beside Cody, Boba Fett's chest swelled with pride. "We even went to the Council to secure Jedi help."

Vos scoffed. " _She_ went to the Temple?" he asked, clearly disgusted, but there was something else within him that Ahsoka knew all too well. _Longing_.

"Yes," she said, nodding. "Reluctantly, but we were willing to do anything to bring you home to us..."

" _Stop it_!"

"She loved you, Master!" Ahsoka cried, standing her ground to meet the furious Kiffar when he bore down upon her. "I bet she still does! Come with me, _come home_! We can't go back to the Jedi, not ever, but we can be together without having to be exposed to this... _Sith evil_!"

" _Where is she_?!" Vos shouted, grabbing the girl by the arms so hard that she winced, but Tano's gaze never left his. "Tell me where she is! Lead me to her, Ahsoka, and I'll put an end to that lying bitch!"

"No." Quinlan looked at her in shock, defiance in her eyes, and he could feel his anger rising when she said nothing else.

" _No_?!" he gasped, and the Togruta's defiance became unshakable resolve.

"No. I don't know where she is, and even if I did, I would _never_ take you to her. I won't watch you commit another murder, Quinlan."

" _Than don't watch_!"

"I won't, because I'm not going to be an accomplice to the murder of a woman that loves you!" Vos' features hardened, twisted by anger and darkness into something that Ahsoka had never seen upon her Master, and she knew she had gone too far. Still, she stood her ground.

"I _will_ have my revenge against Asajj Ventress," he spat and his every word felt poisonous to the Togruta. "Nothing, _nothing_ will stand in the way of that. Not even you, _Ahsoka_."

"Killing someone you love isn't revenge, Master, it's _stupidity_!"

" _I don't love her_!" he snarled. "Not anymore, not after what she did to me!"

"And what she did was _wrong_ ," the Togruta said, almost pleading. "It was wrong, but it was all she knew, and when that lie really mattered, she was too afraid to tell you the truth because she _didn't want to lose you_!" For a moment, the Kiffar seemed to waver, seemed to actually be listening, almost seemed to understand, and then he hardened once again.

"Don't you _dare_ make excuses for her, Ahsoka! Just who's side are you on?!"

" _Yours_ , Master," she said softly. "But being on your side doesn't always mean giving you what you want."

"You'd betray me too?" Vos asked, his voice cold and dangerous, and Ahsoka found herself rooted to the spot, fear keeping her pinned down as she watched her Master reach for his lightsaber, and just as his hand touched it, he howled in pain, staggering backwards and clutching his head and dropping to his knees.

"That's enough," Obi-Wan said softly, his hand extended, and Vos' lightsaber flew to his grasp as he walked past the man. Ahsoka looked at the Sith Lord cautiously, her chest tight as she braced herself for her end. "Is this why you came here, Tano?" he asked gently. "To see if you could pull Quinlan back to the light?"

She smiled sadly, her throat tightening and her eyes welling with tears as she looked past the Sith to her Master, the man on the ground as he gasped for breath, his body trembling as he slipped out of the Dark Side's grasp by orders of Darth Lumis. "I couldn't give up on him," she whispered. "I saw what he was like on Serenno, I... _felt_ how badly he was hurting. I had to try to save him...I can't abandon him to this."

Kenobi looked back at his friend, the Kiffar slowly recovering from the sharp rebuke, and denied his access to the Dark Side, the powerful beast resting at Kenobi's feet and forbidden to move, he was slowly regaining control. "I apologize for his outburst," Obi-Wan muttered. "Taming the Dark Side is no small feat. It takes many years to master, and most never do." He looked back at the Togruta and examined her carefully. "Quinlan didn't leave for the Sith, he left for me. He's learning the Dark Side, yes, but he has a talent for it, as well as a natural inclination, and the Jedi had _stifled_ him."

"You have made him do _evil_ ," she growled, and Obi-Wan looked offended.

"Evil..." he scoffed. "Such a simplistic view. You hurl a child's word at things you do not understand. But, for the sake of argument..." he drawled. "Tell me, what evil has he done?" Ahsoka stuttered at that, started several times to say something, and then stopped trying. Kenobi scoffed. "Nothing you Jedi haven't done. He has fought in the war by my side, but he is guilty of no act of perceived evil. After all, _I_ never sent him to assassinate a man..."

"H-he wants to murder Ventress!" she cried frantically. "She loves him!"

"And she _wronged him_ , Ahsoka. Do her feelings for him excuse her actions? It isn't for you to decide if and how and when he chooses to forgive her, and only he can decide the nature of his revenge." A sly grin spread over his face at the little former Jedi's look of confusion. "Sometimes, revenge _is_ justified."

"...I-I just want him to be happy," she whimpered, trembling as she looked at the Lord before her, and slowly, she felt herself drawn into Quinlan's arms once again, the Kiffar moving moved to her side without her knowing. She relaxed into him and sighed in contentment as she listened to his heart beat, could feel his contrition through the Force, and could sense that the man _was_ fulfilled, united with his lost friend after years of pain and emptiness. She swallowed hard. Perhaps the Jedi way wasn't the only way for one with the Force. Perhaps, just _maybe_ , peace could be found in the Dark Side as well, and for Ahsoka, one who belonged to neither side, perhaps there was a place for her too.

"You're lost, Padawan Tano," the Sith Lord said, laying a hand on the girl's head, and she shivered, but didn't resist. She knew he could control minds, but she was not afraid. She could have died several times already, and Kenobi had saved her once. He was _oddly_ not a threat. She nodded as she gripped her Master and wriggled closer. "That is the real reason you are here, is it not? As you said, what is a Padawan without a Master? And what is one to do when their Master gives in to the Dark Side?' The girl shivered, whimpering against the Kiffar, and he hissed.

"Stop torturing her, Kenobi, this is hard enough as it is."

"I'm not torturing her, these are real questions that need answering. Tell me, Ahsoka. Are you going to do what all good Padawans must and follow your Master?"

"No." The answer was swift and strong, unwavering in its conviction, and Kenobi nodded.

"If you are so certain of that, than you have grown beyond your Master. You aren't a Padawan any longer." Kenobi chuckled softly. "The Jedi should have knighted you. You have more conviction than most of their lot. You are your own Master now, Tano, so you tell me. What is it you want?"

She didn't know. Her whole life had been planned out for her, her entire career as a Padawan spent fighting in a war, and it was all she knew. The Jedi were supposed to be peacekeepers, but she never felt anything like that. Ahsoka was a warrior, not a keeper of the peace, though she wanted to be. She looked at Obi-Wan carefully and remembered when she had seen him long ago, the Jedi Knight, the _Sith Slayer_. A legend that she had met, had spoken to when she was so very young. Memories of him had sent her imaginative mind into dreams of fierce battles against the Sith, or ridding the galaxy of them once and for all, and she wondered if, even then, Obi-Wan Kenobi had fallen to the Dark Side. He had promised to protect her then, and she had felt peace, _safety_ , a feeling that she was beginning to feel now. Perhaps the Sith weren't what the Jedi thought after all. At least, this one wasn't.

"I'm not a Jedi..." she whispered. "But I'm not a Sith either, I can't live in the darkness like you, I _can't_."

"Not everyone can," he said gently. "It takes someone truly exceptional to walk the path of the Sith and not be destroyed by it."

Ahsoka nodded. "Then I need to figure out what I am. I want to help people. So many are suffering because of this war. _That's_ who I want to help." Quinlan looked at Kenobi, his lip held between his teeth and a pleading look in his eye.

"Can we help her?" he asked, and Kenobi steepled his fingers and thought for a moment before slowly nodding.

"The Mandalorians are offering aid to worlds that cannot defend themselves and have been ravaged by the war. I can contact Bo-Katan and have her send relief assignments your way."

The Togruta wrinkled her nose. "Isn't Mandalore working for _you_? And you're a _Separatist_ , so-"

"If you believe the Mandalorians will work _for_ anyone, you are seriously mistaken," Kenobi said quickly, rolling his eyes. "But if you won't shed your Republic sympathies, I can _also_ put you in touch with Padmé Amidala. She's closely connected to the man that runs the Republic's relief operations."

"...why are you helping me?" she asked quietly, and the Sith Lord simply shrugged.

"As I said, you caught me at a weird time. I...also find myself in transition. Call it sympathy." He punched Quinlan in the arm. "It also pleases this idiot. He has _always_ loved you."

"You have _no_ idea how many sexual favors I'm going to have to preform for him for this, Ahsoka," Vos said, grinning brightly at the Sith. "And he is _relentless_ , let me tell you."

"I suppose I better take it, then," the girl said softly, smiling as she looked at the two men. "Can you set me up with them both? I want to do everything I can."

"I'll place the calls in the morning." Kenobi looked the girl over, felt the pull of the Force within her, her previous confusion gone and replaced with the self-assurance he had always felt from her. "The Force has plans for you, Ahsoka Tano," Obi-Wan said softly. "I can _feel_ it."


	107. Battle Plans

Anakin sat silently in Palpatine's office, his hands clasped in front of his face and staring out over the Senatorial district as he listened to Tarkin run the latest plans by the Chancellor. The arrival of the Mandalorians had been infuriating in the beginning, but now, they were merely a nuisance. In the first month, they had brutally pressed back against the Republic forces, but after the second month of stagnation within the Senate in terms of the Mandalorian problem, the now famous temper of Bo-Katan had cooled considerably. It had also helped that Palpatine had reached out to the woman, contrary to the wishes of the majority, and was seeking to find common ground. The Mandalorians remained stubborn, but they were no longer actively hostile toward Republic forces, which gave Skywalker the room he needed to go about destroying his enemy.

There was talk, disturbing rumors, that the Jedi were working with some Senators to try and reach a peace with the Separatists, trying desperately to find common ground with Obi-Wan Kenobi in order to bring this drawn out war to a close. But Anakin didn't know. The Jedi weren't sharing with him. They were keeping secrets, shutting him out because they knew he would object. After all, this was against the wishes of the Republic. The Senators had voted to reject the Sith's pitiful offerings, and going against that, trying to work with a Sith Lord just went to show how far the Jedi had fallen. They claimed there was a Sith in the Senate, but perhaps there was a Sith within the Jedi. After all, they had certainly been acting like it by trying to make deals with Kenobi. Why else would they try to stop Anakin from killing him?

The problem wasn't only the Jedi, of course, but also the foolish factions within the Senate that would sacrifice victory for compromise when such a thing was unnecessary and insulting. They were right at the end of the war, so quitting prematurely felt like losing to Anakin, especially when it meant that Kenobi would not only escape with his life, but get away with all he had done. It hurt more that Padmé was leading the call for peace, and was making a damn good case for it, and with the fear of the Mandalorian threat, she was making impressive headway. Anakin didn't blame her. Padmé had always been against the war, had always made the push for peace, and he knew she would support him if Obi-Wan was dead. This was the Sith's fault, Kenobi's fault, all of it, and it only went to prove that all involved with the push for peace were pawns of the Sith, manipulated into saving the struggling Dark Sider final judgement for all he had done.

Padmé wasn't at fault, this was all Obi-Wan, all his manipulations of his wife that kept her from supporting Anakin's cause. It would be over soon enough. Soon, the Sith hold on her would be ended, and they could raise their child together with nobody to stand in their way. He had seen her when he returned the night before after being gone for nearly two months in the Outer Rim, fighting to defend Republic space against the Separatists and the Mandalorians, to find that the girl had grown large with their child. Her slight frame had only made the child seem even bigger, and Skywalker immediately thought of the vision he had, her screaming, bloody death, and the possessive cold gripped him with fury and hate, the old and familiar jealousy sneaking within him and filling him with fear and doubt. His wife and child needed to be protected from the hands of that vile Sith Lord. And his wife, should she deliver a creature corrupted by Kenobi's evil, needed to be saved from the continuing hold the Sith Lord had upon her, and he would free her by killing the child, a mercy to the galaxy to end that particular darkness before it began.

They had fought about it again, as he knew they would. Padme's tender heart had prevented her from seeing reason, from understanding how necessary it was to purge the galaxy of Kenobi blood. Her pregnancy was making her attached to the child, and the Sith's influence within her was making her fiercely protective against it, making her lash out against the Jedi, but Anakin would have none of it. She had been easy to sway into complacency, a simply thing to make her passive and submissive with the touch of the Force, since the Sith had paved the way. It wasn't wrong, of course, to correct the stain upon her by directing her down the path he knew she would otherwise have taken. Even in her enraptured state, she had said the child was a Skywalker, and as he roughly took what belonged to him, he believed it. But maybe...

"The Mandalorians won't be a problem if we are very careful," Palpatine said, and Anakin snapped his attention to the Chancellor, finally focusing back in on the conversation. "I have been speaking to Bo-Katan and she seems amenable to something of a truce, provided we don't attack undefended planets." He shifted in his seat. "She likens the behavior to those of the criminal cartels they oppose."

"They're Mandalorian," Anakin growled, "and this is war. Haven't they heard of it?"

"Don't make the mistake of brushing them off, General," Tarkin cautioned. "We made a serious error in misjudging Kenobi before. We hedged our bets, called his bluff and lost. We cannot afford to underestimate him again."

"He has an alliance with Mandalore that we don't know the conditions of," Palpatine said quickly when it looked like Skywalker's anger would get the best of him. "I can work to counteract that, but you must allow me to manage them. We will lose this war if you charge in blindly to fight the Mandalorians."

"They have numbers, Chancellor," Anakin growled. "Nothing more. I've observed their troops, and Death Watch is dangerous, but most of their millions are conscripts required to serve in order to be a part of their Empire." Skywalker scoffed. "They are a new galactic establishment, they aren't strong yet. If we bring our full might upon them, they won't stand a chance."

"And we open ourselves up to a defeat at the hands of the Separatists," Tarkin said firmly. "A war with a Mandalore in its infancy could be won, yes, but not without considerable casualties."

Anakin's eyes narrowed in anger. "Increase clone production." Palpatine looked at the Jedi and laughed nervously.

"Even if we did, it would be years before they are ready."

"Then take a page from the Mandalorians and require the people of the Republic to serve in our military!"

The Chancellor sighed. "Anakin, the people don't want war with Mandalore, and the troops we have are sufficient to win the war against the Separatists. Do not forget that the Republic supports Mandalore, and hails them as galactic peacekeepers for their work against the rampant criminals that used to infect the galaxy." Palpatine smiled softly at the angered Jedi, and Anakin's shoulders slowly relaxed. "Let me manage the Mandalorians. Bo-Katan is less stubborn than her sister, and I can bring them to our side, but you must do as I say when it comes to them."

Slowly, Anakin put his trust in the Chancellor and nodded. "The control several major hyperspace lanes that are blocking our access to Separatist Space."

"But none of that matters if the Separatists stay hidden behind Mandalore," Tarkin said softly. "We need to focus our efforts on the Separatist strongholds. The smaller Separatist systems can be brought back to us as a condition of their surrender."

"They shouldn't be allowed to surrender," Anakin growled, but it was all show. The Chancellor had won him over. "We can draw the Separatists out," the Jedi muttered, his quick mind working through what needed to be done, how best to accomplish his goals, and he came upon the same conclusion he had arrived at before. "So long as Grievous and Kenobi are alive, this war will continue, and with the Mandalorians blocking our path, they can hide until they have the strength to re-engage us. We need to draw them out. We've been fighting Obi-Wan all wrong, we've been trying to trap him when we should be making him come to us."

"We've been doing exactly that," Tarkin hissed. "We thought you would serve as bait, but-"

"We need to make this personal." Both the Admiral and the Chancellor stared at the Jedi, their attention rapt and hardly breathing. Anakin sneered. "The Jedi are afraid to engage him. He's Sith, so anger makes him stronger, but creeping around him this entire war has only led him to success. We need to be bold, we need to be aggressive, and we need to hit him where it hurts. If he's angry, he will come to us, and he will make mistakes, and he doesn't have much in terms of allies anymore."

"Is he not suspected of being Mandalore's Shadow King?" Tarkin asked. "I would say that makes his pool of allies very vast."

"Yes, but the Chancellor said he'd deal with the Mandalorians." He turned to Palpatine. "Can you make an alliance with them that would keep them from going to war with us?" The Chancellor smiled and nodded.

"Oh, I believe I can come up with something, yes."

A sly smile crossed Anakin's face. "Without Mandalore, he won't have much in terms of an army, and if we focus our attacks on the Separatist strongholds, then we'll be certain to draw out his allies. That's what happened when we attacked Felucia, and it will happen again if his friends are in danger."

"Will the Jedi condone this?" Palpatine asked softly. "They are working hard for peace, they-"

"We will have peace when we have victory," Anakin snarled. "It doesn't matter what the Jedi want, they have been wrong this entire war. When they see that my plan is working, they'll see things my way." He growled deeply. "If we destroy his allies, Kenobi will have nobody. He's a coward, and he's been hiding for months, but he can be drawn out if we are ferocious enough. When I'm done, this galaxy will be purged of Kenobi blood."

Palpatine smiled softly. "We need more Jedi like you. If we had done this at the start of the war, it would have been quickly won."

"You're right," Anakin growled. "It would have."

* * *

 

Quinlan and Barriss watched as Kenobi restlessly paced back and forth, back and forth across the room, muttering under his breath in Ancient Sith, a language they didn't understand, but they recognized the hypnotic cadence of the Code of the Sith. Their Master was disturbed, anxious and uneasy and haunted by ghosts, he said. The two simply shook their heads at that. The man was insane, after all, but they understood. His mistress now sat at five months pregnant, which was as far as Satine had gotten into her own pregnancy before she was slaughtered. He hadn't spoken much to them about his new lover and his new child. Doing so would make it real, make it important, possibly preemptively so, and keeping them at arm's length would spare him the pain of losing yet another lover.

Still, his concern was obvious, as his fierce pacing showed, concern that was never visible until now, when Satine's ghost seemed to hang heavy over him. It felt far too similar, and the Sith Lord was becoming torn between keeping close and staying away, unsure which would best lead to her safety. After all, Satine had died because he had been away from her, but she wouldn't have been targeted by Maul if she wasn't known to be Obi-Wan's lover. He had just come back from seeing her on Coruscant, and he still was conflicted. The Force was pulling him, Quinlan knew, but he didn't know where or why. Being a Force nexus, it seemed, sucked.

"Do you think he's insane?" Barriss asked softly And Quinlan laughed as the man walked past again. He was certain that he'd wear down the floor with his pacing.

"Oh, he's absolutely insane. I just don't know if he's insane now." Again, Kenobi passed by, and Quinlan leaned over to see his face and found his eyes blank and distant. He was within the Force, his body moved by the Dark Side. Again. "Though, on second thought..."

"He's stronger now," she said softly. "Have you sensed it?" Quinlan nodded. "Perhaps he will make a move against his Master soon."

"Kash'nie meistras kia'nun," Lumis growled in a voice not his own. "Darth Sidious is no Master to me. There is nothing that he has left to teach me. All that remains is waiting for the right moment to strike. Many an apprentice has died in underestimating the power of the Sith Master. I will not fall into the trap of so many before me."

A slow grin spread across Quinlan's face. "If you're no longer a student, Obi-Wan, that makes you a Master."

"...I suppose it does..." he muttered, and said nothing more as he returned to his pacing. Something devious and ambitious came to Barriss' eyes, and she looked at the Kiffar, the man calm and relaxed. Slowly, she leaned in toward him.

"Master Vos?" she asked sweetly. "If Obi-Wan is a Sith Master, that would make us something more than just...acolytes, wouldn't it." His chest puffed in pride.

"That would make me his apprentice," he drawled. "He's called me such since the beginning, I've always been his apprentice, even before I knew it."

"And what about me?" Barriss asked, scooting closer to the man and laying a hand on his chest. "If you're the Apprentice, where do I fit in?"

"Oh..." Vos groaned when the girl's small hand began roving across his chest in light strokes. "Obi-Wan's always said the Rule of Two is broken, that there's enough room in the new order for thousands upon thousands of Sith..."

"And what about now," she asked softly, sliding into his alp, and she smirked when the Kiffar groaned, his hands unconsciously sliding to her him, She leaned over and bit the lobe of his ear. "If I were so inclined," she whispered, "you'd be dead right now." She pulled back and looked at the suddenly shocked face of the Kiffar with disgust. "Honestly, Quinlan, you're so easy to manipulate."

"You cheat!" Quinlan cried. "You clever slut, what did Luminara do so wrong to turn out a creature like you." He pushed her off his lap, the girl falling to the floor with a surprised squeak. "Anyhow, I'm stronger than you. You can't beat me."

"I don't need to be stronger. I just need to be smarter."

"Children, please," Obi-Wan said, his hand to his head as he rubbed his temple, his voice returned to it's clipped drawl as he assumed control from the Dark Side. "There will be room in my Empire for both of you. I won't have my Sith falling prey to the mistakes of those before us."

"As you say, Master," Quinlan drawled and flashed a smile at Barriss. "Really, though, Offee, if you'd like to-"

"With you?" she asked in disbelief, and then laughed, covering her mouth as she did so. "Not a chance. Besides," she said slyly, "don't you have a lover already?" Quinlan froze, anger and pain gripping him. "Ahsoka had no reason to lie to you. Do you still seek to kill Ventress?"

"Yes," he snarled immediately, then winced and bit his lip. "Yes, but...I don't know."

"With Dooku dead, she may be convinced to return to the Dark Side," Kenobi said softly. "She was a powerful ally once, and a good friend before she betrayed me. She can resist the darkness now, so she may not be so susceptible to being consumed." He scoffed as he sat between the Mirialan and the Kiffar. "And I was always a better teacher than Dooku. She will thrive under me the way she couldn't under him. My Sith will be different. Smarter. More powerful than those that strain against the Force."

"Are we to take her back then?" Quinlan asked, quiet and bitter, his hand reaching for Kenobi's and clutching it tightly. "Are we just supposed to forget what she's done? Not just to me, but to both of us. She betrayed us both, we must have our revenge!"

"I will defer to you on the matter, Quin," Obi-Wan said. "She is your lover, not mine, but consider carefully what you want. There is no going back once she is dead, and I hate to waste a potential ally, especially one that may be of use to the both of us. It is never wise to dispose of those who may yet be of use to our cause, and with the deaths of so many Jedi, Force sensitivity is becoming exceedingly rare."

"...yes, Master," Vos said softly. "I'll...take all that into consideration."

The door to the room flew open, and Cody ran in, Boba close on his heels, the two clones slightly flushed and out of breath, and they both saluted. When Kenobi didn't ride, instead indicating for them to come down to his level, they both sat upon the floor, legs crossed, and forming a circle with the three Dark Siders. Boba quickly moved his fingers over the datapad he clutched. "Sir, news from the war." Kenobi frowned. The calm, collected Cody was in a state. Whatever the news, it couldn't have been good. "Mandalore has entered something of a truce with the Republic."

"A truce is different from an alliance, Cody, that's fine. What's Bo-Katan getting out of it?"

Cody and Boba both shifted uncomfortably. "Republic recognition of the Mandalorian Empire," Cody almost whispered. "Along with claims to all resources within their borders, even ones that currently are occupied by Republic run enterprises."

"That's really good for Mandalore," Boba said, equal parts nervous and excited.

"But not so great for us," Barriss whispered, tense and nervous, but she relaxed when Kenobi lay a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"This is good, this is what we wanted for Mandalore. The war will continue, yes, but we can manage. News from Grievous?"

"Attending to the siege of Saleucami, but he moves locations every few days, as you requested, my Lord. It's making him very difficult for the Jedi to track." Cody took the datapad from Boba, looked at it quickly, and handed it to the Sith Lord. "Skywalker has returned to the field, and he's making a mess of the remainder of our armies. They're concentrating their focus on our pivotal worlds, they're forcing us to fight to avoid Mandalorian censure."

Kenobi's eyes roved over the datapad, observing the battle reports and analysis of the casualties and losses. Despite their greater numbers, the Republic forces were having difficulty besting the Separatists so far from home and fighting on territory where every single civilian bled for the Confederacy and saw the Republic as little more than an invading force. "Contact the Techno Union. I have them mass producing the MagnaGuard. Dooku limited production because it was expensive, but I never considered that an issue."

"Speaking of," Boba said, a sly smirk on his face. "San Hill says the bankers-"

"San Hill can take his massive, Muun head and shove it up his ass," Kenobi growled. "You can deliver the message yourself, Fett, if you like." The teen grinned. "Help him out with it if he gives you any trouble. Cody, see that a thousand of the MagnaGuard are delivered to each of our major battlegrounds. Grievous developed the training program himself, so they should provide some problems for the Jedi."

Cody nodded, took the datapad from the Sith Lord and began writing notes upon it, commands to be conveyed to the rest of the forces. "Anything else?"

"Yes, get the Shadow Legion and lead them on an attack of Ilum. There's a Jedi Temple there, though not heavily populated. There are crystal caves there that produce the kyber crystals for lightsaber production, and there aren't many places more sacred to the Jedi." Kenobi smirked. "But better yet, it's very far out of the way, clear across the galaxy. I bet the Jedi will rush to defend it, which should take some pressure off the battles within our territory. Enough time for you," he said, grabbing Quinlan and Barriss' shoulders, "to go out and cause as much damage as you can."

"Anywhere in particular?" Quinlan asked.

"I would like to go to Kashyyyk," Barriss said softly. "It's position is extremely strategic, and if we want to win, we must secure it. It's position on a hyperlane intersection would give us complete control over most routes in the Outer Rim. We can win with much fewer numbers if we had control of the flow of troops."

"I agree," Kenobi said softly. "I'll send you with the Sithspawn. Don't waste them." Barriss bowed her head and kissed the Master's hand. "Quinlan." Kenobi smirked as the Kiffar did. "You do what you do best."

"You got it, boss."

"...sir," Cody said softly, biting his lip and looking away, and the Sith Lord tensed. Something was wrong. "Something else. I...don't know how much bearing it has, but..." He brought up the datapad, slowly flicking through the files he kept, and pulled one up, but did not hand it to Obi-Wan. "Sir, a few days ago, Skywalker attacked a planet. A small one, and not one of ours."

"What?" He frowned. There was...something. Something in the Force, that familiar sharp tug of warning. "He's attacking his own people now?"

"No, the world is technically unaffiliated," Cody said as he reviewed the information. "And it wasn't a Republic attack, he went down alone. We only know about it because the holonet is reporting that you did it."

"Me?" Kenobi asked eyes narrowing as he snatched the datapad away, and as he read, his face visibly paled.

"Massacre on Stewjon," Cody said softly. "And among the dead was an older couple with the last name Kenobi." Obi-Wan said nothing. "I thought it was coincidence, but it can't be, not when they're blaming you. It has to be Skywalker."

"It is..." the Sith said, breathless. He could feel Qui-Gon's touch within him, the soft whispers of comfort, but the hands felt shaky, ill. He brushed it to the side for now. He had to focus. "That's my home world, and that was most likely my parents." Only Fett looked at the Sith with any sort of sympathy. He didn't understand what the others already knew, and Obi-Wan quickly waved him off. "I never knew them, they surrendered me to the Jedi Order when I was found to be Force sensitive. This isn't a personal loss for me." His golden eyes narrowed as he looked over the report again. "But Skywalker may not see it that way. He didn't have the same start as the other Jedi. He's attacking me through my bloodline because that matters to him."

The deaths of these people, his...parents, he supposed, meant nothing to him. He never knew them, after all. It was the implication of the attack that was far, far more distressing. Skywalker hadn't just descended upon a planet and killed an aging couple. The entire village was slaughtered, presumably to get galactic attention. Two people murdered was nothing, but when entire populations were massacred, it drew the attention of everyone, especially when such a thing happened on peaceful worlds. The deaths of all those people, of course, wasn't the point, though it was necessary to deliver a message. The point was the Kenobi family's execution, and it was done as a strike against Obi-Wan. The whole thing was brutal, innocent blood spilt for attention, harsh, cruel...

And so very, very Sith.

"And he's blaming you?" Quinlan gasped, snatching the datapad from his hands and quickly reading the report. "How! The planet had Skywalker's Star Destroyer in orbit!"

"His Star Destroyer was in orbit when we attacked Tatooine as well, Quin," Kenobi said softly. "Our past record proves that this is something we can do, and I'm in possession of a blue lightsaber now. The report fits me exactly." He drummed his fingers against his knee. "This was...very well played."

"This isn't something a Jedi would do, Master," Barriss whispered, and Kenobi bowed his head, closed his eyes, and reached out for Qui-Gon, and felt the Jedi trembling.

"You're right. It isn't." He slowly looked at the faces of the people around him, and he shivered. "The plan hasn't changed, my friends," he said softly. "But I'll be out there looking for him. He's jumping around quite a bit, so he will be difficult to find, but it's time to put an end to that mad dog before he becomes any worse." Obi-Wan took a deep breath and held it for a moment. "Just...be careful out there. Anakin Skywalker has just become very, very dangerous. Trust in the Force, my friends. We'll see this through."


	108. Dark Dealings

Kashyyyk was a _mess_. Nobody was underestimating its strategic importance in the war, and both the Republic and the Confederacy were pouring their resources into the battle. What was really making the difference for the Republic was the native Wookies, a species known for a volatile temperament that made them loyal, friendly companions, but also made them almost nine feet of unstoppable, berserker rage when upset. In the same way that Separatist worlds like Mygeeto were difficult to invade, Kashyyyk was proving to be a challenge for the Confederate Forces. And then came the call from Ilum. Kenobi's Shadow Legion descended upon the Temple like a swarm, and they came fully equipt to execute every Jedi on the sparsely populated planet. Sith control of Ilum would be catastrophic, and the Order made it their top priority to bring as much aid to the distant planet as possible in hopes of finally catching and destroying not just the infamous Shadow Legion, but the Sith Lord himself.

Star Destroyers were pulled from nearly every siege to provide temporary aid, and under the command of Mace Windu, nearly a hundred Jedi left for Ilum. Luminara had stayed behind on Kashyyyk. _Someone_ had to, and because of the importance of the planet, she had guessed that at some point, Obi-Wan would come by himself to secure it, which is why she came here, and with the attack on Ilum, it seemed likely this was the time. Contrary to the Council's wishes, she still had the intention of talking to him, though peace, it seemed, was off the table. Releasing Aayla Secura for nothing had been uncharacteristic, but above all else, Yoda seemed to think this was a good idea, and that was good enough for her. She'd talk to Obi-Wan when he arrived. It would be an easy thing to surrender to him. A captured Jedi was far more valuable than a dead one, for more than one reason, none of which she wanted to think about.

Then came the _Silence_ , and with its arrival, a swarm of monsters was unleashed. _Literal_ monsters that bore the resemblance of races she knew, their features warped and twisted by the Dark Side, the humid air of Kashyyyk turning instantly frigid and cold upon their arrival. These were the same beasts that swept Umbara, the same creatures that had left no survivors and had even begun _eating_ the dead. Stronger and faster than their unaltered species, Luminara imagined what such a force would be if their numbers were bolstered by altered Wookies, and she ordered the retreat back to the capital of Kachirho. They retreated faster than the creatures could advance, and soon enough, they were in the safety of the highly defendable capital. The lakes that surrounded the city gave the creatures pause, though those that had come from aquatic species' swiftly jumped in to water to disappear beneath the surface. Luminara looked up into the sky and knew what she had to do.

With the capital secure, at least for now, Luminara jumped into her Jedi starfighter and accelerated up through the atmosphere, her eyes narrowed in focus as she looked at the steadily growing form of the dreadnought _Silence_ , her quick mind racing with exactly how she was going to manage this. Surrendering to one of those creatures or a droid didn't seem like a possibility where survival was the outcome, and Luminara planned on living through this. She wanted peace, not suicide.

She navigated the battlefield easily enough, keeping close to her own Star Destroyer before she turned to circle around the planet, and when she was clear of both Republic and Separatist ships, she headed off into space to begin her wide arc toward the distant _Silence_. It sat far beyond the battle, it's engines off, it's weapons disengaged, a dark, silent observer of a battle it was not part of, and yet, she knew it had delivered the creatures to the planet. This ship was _not_ here before. She frowned as she looked at her ship's instrumentation, the mighty dreadnaught looming before her, and saw that the ship's shields were raised, but most other systems were disabled, which kept it difficult to read on her scans. She carefully flew in close, holding her breath as she drew near, using the Force to guide her safely alongside the massive ship, and when she found an opening, a small, secondary hangar bay, she flew inside and powered the ship down as quickly as she could, hoping to attract the least amount of attention as possible. The cockpit slid open, and she leapt out, landing without a sound on the deck, and she looked around the hangar. Save for her ship, it was empty, and she assumed this to be the bay where the transport ship that carried the creatures flew out from.

But there was also something else. Something subtle and cold and dark, not so small it could barely be seen, but as if it walked softly, cautiously, timid and mild but so, so dangerous when the moment was right, and so, _so_ familiar. Her eyes shot open, her lightsaber flying to her hand and activating in brilliant green and moving to clash with sudden, fierce red. With a hiss of rage, her assailant backed off, red blade raised and ready in the exact position that Luminara had taught her.

"Barriss," the Jedi said softly, her voice calm and detached, which seemed to aggravate the younger Mirialan's silent rage. "Don't even try it."

"Try what, Master?" Barriss drawled softly, but her voice quivered with anger.

"You can't kill me, you _know_ you can't," Luminara said gently, sympathetic and honest, and Barriss' eyes narrowed in fury.

"You don't know _anything_ ," she hissed. "I'm apprenticed to a Sith _Master_ , I am so much stronger than I was when you saw me last!"

"I believe it," she said calmly, reaching through to the Force and centering herself. She pitied this girl, the student she had lost to the Dark Side, but that was all. She was a Jedi Master, and a damn good one, and when it was time to let go, Luminara did. She wasn't like Qui-Gon, who nearly drowned in grief, or Quinlan, who felt too deeply too often, or Obi-Wan, who silently became bitter and wrathful and believed he was alone. She felt deeply, treasured her connections, but she let go when it was time, and she was strong for it.

Barriss pointed her blade at Luminara. "Then you know you're going to die here."

"That's a possibility," the Jedi said softly. "But I know you, Barriss, and I know your new Master, and that's going to make it _very_ difficult for you to kill me." Blade raised, Barriss began backing up, and Luminara could feel her fear, her intent, and she reached out through the Force and grabbed hold of the control panel on the wall, grasped it tight, and crushed it under the weight of the powers at her command. The younger Mirialan flinched slightly when sparks showered around her. She was trapped, at least for a time. She was Sith now. She raised her weapon. She could beat this Jedi.

Blades clashed swiftly together as former Master and Padawan fought, and Luminara had to concede that her student had become _quite_ good in her short tenure under Kenobi. She was faster, certainly stronger, and it took nearly all of the Master's focus to move her blade fast enough to counter the swift strikes, the quick cuts, the wicked stabs. Barriss seamlessly integrated what she had learned from the Jedi with what she had learned from the Sith, and Luminara recognized _all_ of it. She had taught Obi-Wan Soresu, and while he had perfected it, she understood the way in which he used it, and the longer she fought with Barriss, the easier it became to predict her movements. It didn't matter how fast, how strong she had become. Luminara was intimately familiar with the style.

With a hiss, Barriss dodged back and brought her blade over her shoulder, switching to the comfort of the style she had used for years when her new maneuvers failed to get past Luminara's defense. It was exactly what the Jedi had been waiting for. As Barriss drew back, Luminara followed, green blade never leaving contact with red, and then the young Dark Sider saw the Jedi's weapon angling straight for her face, she ducked underneath, planting her hand on the ground for extra leverage as she spun further away, both sabers striking the ground and leaving molten paths in their wake. That one moment was enough, and with an extended hand, Luminara grasped the Force, and when Barriss rose, she pushed her back hard enough to send the girl off her feet and skidding to the ground. She tried to quickly rise, and froze when she found the green tip if the Jedi's lightsaber pointed right at the pit of her throat. She dared not breathe for fear the movement would bring the glowing plasma into contact with her skin. The saber was wrenched from her hand and flew to the Jedi.

The blade held steady, Luminara leaned down, her blue eyes narrowed dangerously. "Barriss," she said softly, " _get in the ship_."

"...w-what?" she quietly gasped, but the Jedi was having none of it, and with a hand that was surprisingly strong, Luminara grabbed Barriss around her thin wrist and began dragging her to the starship. "N-no, wait!" she began, but was silenced when her former Master's grip tightened around her.

"I need to see your Master," she said softly, but there was a low menace to the Jedi's voice as she slowly began to lose her patience. "We have peace terms to discuss."

"Peace?" Barriss asked, her voice rising in her surprise, and she began softly laughing. "There is _no_ peace to be had with my Master, not until all of you are dead! He hates the Jedi more than I ever did! You think you know him, but you _don't_."

"I do," she said firmly. "Obi-Wan and I have been friends for a long time."

"He isn't Obi-Wan anymore!" the young Mirialan snarled. "He's Darth Lumis, Lord of the Sith, and you _can't beat him_."

"I don't _want_ to beat him," Luminara said slowly, as though she were talking to a child. "I want to _talk_ to him. I will put my faith in Qui-Gon Jinn when he said that Obi-Wan Kenobi is alive and well, and Obi-Wan will want to talk to me." She pushed the younger girl toward the starfighter. " _Get in the ship, Barriss_." The girl didn't move, only shook her head and the Jedi sighed. " _Fine_ ," she said, her hand raised and the comlink left on the ship floated into her grasp. She placed the device in Barriss' open palm. "Contact him. I'm a Jedi Master on the Council, he _collects_ us. Contact him and tell him I'm with you. Tell him we're coming to see him and see what he says." Barriss didn't move. "... _or_ ," Luminara growled, "I can put you in this ship _anyway_ and take you back to Coruscant."

Barriss stared at the Jedi for a long moment, hate filling her entire being, and she silently entered the numeric code to contact her Master. The small hologram appeared a moment later, his brows knit in concentration before his eyes seemed to light up when he gazed upon the Jedi. "Master..." Barriss said softly, but Kenobi quickly cut her off.

"Luminara..."

"It has been a while, hasn't it?" the Mirialan asked softly, a faint smile on her lips. "I've captured your apprentice," she said smoothly, and a quick flash of anger ripped across the Sith's face. "But...as a sign of good faith, I'm willing to turn over my prisoner in exchange for sitting down and discussing peace." The Sith stared at her for a long while, and for a moment, Luminara thought that her plan had failed, but then a slow, warm smile crossed the Sith Lord's face, and she found she could breathe again. She hadn't realized she was holding her breath.

"Barriss," he commanded, and the girl snapped to attention. "Bring Luminara to me on Raxus. Give her no trouble. You're a prisoner, and you'd be wise to remember that this Jedi is better than _you_."

Barriss winced at the harsh reprimand. "Right away, Master..." she whimpered, and the com cut. The young Sith Apprentice meekly climbed into the starfighter and settled into the copilot's seat, and the Jedi climbed in after her. Powering the ship on, the cockpit hatch closed, and the Jedi punched in the coordinates for Raxus, and moments later, they were speeding away to the capital of the Confederacy.

* * *

Obi-Wan sat on the bed with his legs folded underneath him and Padmé's head in his lap, one hand in her hair and the other on her rounded stomach, the twin still and unmoving. He had tried to enter her mind to fix what had been broken, but the Force kept him out, a wall of fear so strong he could not breech it without forcing his way in and shattering her mind completely. That had already been done once, though not by him, and he didn't believe she could handle such a hard hand again. His eyes drifted down her body and stopped on the wide, black bruises on her arms, and he could feel himself _burn_ , rage and hatred calling to the Dark Side that always lay just within his grasp, and it swelled, roaring its outrage at what had been done to his charge. A sharp tug within him, the slight tremble of the woman under his hands called his attention away from the physical signs of abuse and back to her mental ones.

" _Focus, Obi-Wan_ ," the voice said, soft and sad and distant. Qui-Gon's pain and distress had wounded him, disrupted his efforts and halted his progress in manifesting outside the realm of the Force. He would recenter, he would refocus, and he would continue on with his task, but not now, and not today. Today, they needed to heal Padmé. Kenobi had rushed to Coruscant while Ilum was being attacked, the chaos and the scrambling of the Republic the best time to slip into their capital to check on his mistress and the twins. He found her to be a physical mess of dark bruises and tender skin, signs not just of a hard hand, but a violent, uncaring one. But worse than her abuse was her mental state, fractured and unfocused and afraid, her eyes unable to focus on one thing for very long, her thoughts jumbled and incoherent, and when Kenobi had tried to see within her, the raw power of fear had kept him out. The Force would not allow him past, a cold, strong wall that held everything back, including help and comfort.

It was obvious what had happened. Manipulating people, opening their minds and entering them, changing things, altering perspective and memory was an art, a finite practice that required years and years to perfect. The finesse required to open a mind undetected, alter what was needed, plant ideas, exert influence was a delicate process, one that could set a plan into motion, one that could break a man completely, and nobody would ever know that someone had orchestrated it. But just as it could be used to carefully alter, it could be used to destroy as well, a much less complicated process that required only brute strength and a powerful will, and while it did yield results, it was akin to breaking a tool instead of using it. Along with his innate natural talent for mind manipulation, Obi-Wan had the absolute best teacher in the subject. Darth Sidious was truly a master of subtle manipulations, and even _he_ had considered Kenobi gifted. The manipulations that they had used on Padmé had been subtle, long term plans that took years to come to fruition. They had been careful, cautious, and as a result, the girl suffered no damage to her mind, save for the mire of confusion and guilt that she had felt for her infidelity.

What had happened to her now was nothing short of a brutalization, a violent rending of a person's will, and for one with no Force sensitivity, it was like taking a hammer to glass. A Jedi could resist such an intrusion, with strong mental walls providing protection for the mind that lay underneath, but Padmé had no such walls, and when the powerful will of another came down upon her in full force, there were no defenses to protect the soft and fragile brain from being squished. The strength of the manipulation was unnecessary, and the user clearly had no talent in the art of manipulation. Caught by the Dark Side, Anakin Skywalker was a powerful, threatening fist, one to be approached with extreme caution, but he was, and remained, a rabid animal, his supposed love of this girl shown in the ripping of her mind and the savaging of her body.

It was _very_ easy to convince her to come with him, though he had been prepared for a challenge, since his supposed massacre on Stewjon seemed to be all anyone was talking about. Padmé hadn't believed the reports for an instant. The woman was frightened and afraid, and thought she had been reluctant to leave at first, the danger to her child made the decision an easy one. She left her work to her handmaidens, body doubles that shared a striking resemblance to the girl, and with her decoys in place, she fled the capital of the Republic on her lover's ship. Kenobi had brought her to Raxus, far more beautiful and temperate than violent Mustafar, and once within the safety of the magnificent palace, she had fallen asleep.

Obi-Wan set to work immediately, but as before, fear had kept him out, the children laying still and defending their mother, cloaked in the Force and so, _so_ afraid., and no amount of coaxing was easing them. Not yet.

" _He's fallen_ ," Qui-Gon said mournfully, and Obi-Wan slowly nodded his head, his eyes closed as he once again reached for the fearful twins. " _Is this what I create_?"

"Bright lights and dark shadows, Qui-Gon, you said so yourself," Kenobi muttered aloud, though he didn't need to. His conversation was an internal one, and the words didn't need to be said so much as felt. "Hush, you're distracting me."

Qui-Gon was only silent for a moment. " _Do you have a plan? The massacre on Stewjon is being attributed to you. It isn't good_."

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. "Qui-Gon, I burned a _planet_. Not just a city, the whole damn thing. There is a wound in the Force where Ord Mantell is, and I put it there. I _don't_ think my reputation is going to suffer any." He closed his eyes and ran his hand over Padmé's stomach, the touch of the Force on his fingertips to soothe the twins, but they were having none of it. "Anakin Skywalker has become dangerous, and now I hold the one thing in this world that he cares about. When he finds out, he's going to be _so mad_."

" _And you think that's wise_?" Qui-Gon asked. " _Anger fuels him, Obi-Wan, do you really think it's a good idea to add to that_?"

"I know flames consume," he said gently. "I know that better than anyone. The larger a fire grows, the hotter it becomes, but the harder it is to contain. Anakin Skywalker is newly fallen. In the Dark Side, he is but a child, and the further down that path he goes, the harder it will be to control himself." He held a hand up, closed his eyes, and felt the Dark Side strong and fearsome and sitting patiently by his side, awaiting his command, his faithful companion, his steadfast friend, calm and dark and devoid of the flames that had consumed it in his insanity. He felt stronger now than he ever had, more in control than he had ever been. He had expected Qui-Gon's presence to weaken him, his close proximity to the light chasing the dark away, but instead, it gave him _focus_ , deepened his connection with the Force that fell even darker for the strength of the brightness that stood near him. And he was _one_ with it, more now than he had ever been.

" _He was a Jedi for a long time_ ," Qui-Gon said softly. " _A Jedi trained with the knowledge that one day, he'd face you. His defenses are formidable_."

"I know, I've fought him," Obi-Wan said softly, his breath even and calming as he continued to attempt to ease the fear of the children. "As a Jedi, as a counterpoint to me, you're right, he's my equal. But now, he's venturing into my domain. Now, he's playing _my_ game, and I play it better than he does."

" _He's a nexus, Obi-Wan_."

"And in the light, that meant something. Embracing the Dark Side... _diminishes_ you as it strengthens. I know, I've done it. It's _all_ the Force, but the skills, the focus required to control the Dark Side are _very_ different from the Jedi. It will take him some time to adjust, no matter how talented he is."

"... _you believe you can win_?"

Obi-Wan bowed his head, deep in thought for a moment. "It will not be easy," he mumbled. "He is powerful, terribly so, and with his embrace of the darkness, that power will intensify. But with that much power that quickly will come a lack of control and without control, he will leave himself open to mistakes. And I have _always_ been good on the defensive. I can win." Kenobi paused and grumbled. "If he doesn't kill me first..."

"... _the trouble seems to be Sidious_."

"...you're right. That _is_ the trouble."

The bedroom door opened, and Kenobi looked over his shoulder to see Cody walking in, the man's armor dirty with mud and blood and carbon scoring from blasters. Observing the girl laying unconscious on the bed with his Master, Cody softly groaned as he shed the armor, stretching as the black suit he wore underneath had a chance to breathe, and he sat right next to the Sith. "You certainly like collecting lovers, don't you?" he asked softly, smiling at Kenobi as he chuckled softly. "If you're not careful, Quinlan and I are going to get jealous."

Kenobi scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Don't be foolish, Cody, Padmé's a mistress, not a lover. There's no replacing you and Quin, you know that." The Sith frowned, but he struggled to keep the smile off his face. "Seriously though, Quinlan's a terrible influence on you."

"Oh, I know." The clone smiled softly as he looked at the woman on the bed, her head resting in the Sith's lap, her stomach large with the children she carried, her peaceful face hiding the fear that raged within her. "Ilum was a success, sir," he said softly. "We had mostly withdrawn before the Jedi arrived, as you requested. Skywalker didn't show up, though."

"No, why should he?" Kenobi whispered. "He's no longer a Jedi, that place will hold no meaning to him anymore."

"It seems he stayed to fight around Mygeeto. His movements are unpredictable, sir, and he is raising hell everywhere he goes."

Kenobi groaned and took deep breaths to calm his rising temper. "Oh, we need to handle him...I was hoping to deal with Sidious first..." He leaned over and absently kissed Padmé's forehead as he thought, the girl moaning softly, her hand laying over Kenobi's as he tried to get through to the twins that protected her. "Perhaps we can get the attention of both of them at once..."

"Would you not just incur his wrath, sir?"

"Oh, I may. But Sidious needs to think _very_ carefully about who he wants as his apprentice moving forward, especially since I stand in a position to ruin _everything_ he has worked for."

"...aren't you going to kill him anyway?" Cody asked. He was confused. The Sith Lords, the way of the Force, all of it, was _confusing_.

"Well, _yes_ , but I need to Empire established first. Let Sidious execute the Sith imperative, as we have intended, and when the time is right, when the Force wills it so, I will kill him to give rise to the new order of Sith Lords. Sidious' way will only see the Force strike back against the darkness for his abuses. _My_ way will see the Dark Side flourish, a thousand, _thousand_ years of uninterrupted darkness guided by the Force..."

"...I do love you, my Lord, but you're crazy." Cody shrugged. "A genius, perhaps, and the strongest son of a bitch I've ever met, but out of your kriffing mind."

"I wonder, Cody, what sort of a person willingly follows a madman?"

The clone grinned broadly. "An idiot, sir." Kenobi chuckled softly, his entire being relaxing in the presence of his friend, and with his increased ease, he felt the children shift, the fear that they sat wrapped in fading slightly. Obi-Wan grabbed that feeling and held on to it tightly. He'd be through soon enough.

"I need," Kenobi said softly, "a clone's biochip tripped. Far, _far_ away from me, and in Skywalker's 501st, if possible. Can you do it?"

"...they don't just _fail_ , sir," Cody said softly. "It just doesn't happen. _You_ have done it, but...well, _nobody_ can explain that. We were written off as a bad batch."

Slowly, Kenobi nodded. "Then capture some clones for me. I have some experimentation to do. I'll find a way to trip it. I need someone you trust to infiltrate Skywalker's battalion and get close to his commanders. Can you do that?"

"Easily, sir."

"I'll get Barriss on this too. In the meantime, we need to work to expose what really happened on Stewjon. I don't think we can get Skywalker out of the war, but the problems this could cause him will keep his attention divided, and I want him grounded when he finds out his wife is gone. I'll get Quin on this, nobody investigates better than him. If there's something there we can use, he'll find it."

Cody grinned. "You have a plan, then."

"I _do_. And it's a good one. You'll like it when it all comes together. Just be careful. Skywalker's trying to bait us, we can't give him what he wants."

" _Us_? Sir, he's baiting _you_. He didn't murder _my_ parents."

The door opened once again, and this time, two Mirialan's entered, one holding the other tightly by the wrists. Cody started to move, but a hand on his shoulder instantly calmed him, and he waited, watching as the cautious woman and the nervous girl entered. The Jedi's blue eyes narrowed when she saw the unconscious Senator, and she drew her lightsaber and held it to her captive's neck. Obi-Wan was completely unconcerned, and he brushed his efforts with the twins off as a lost cause for the moment. He gently lay Padmé's head upon one of the large, fluffy pillows and slid off the bed. The Mirialan, drew in a sharp breath and held the saber closer to Barriss' neck.

"You have a funny way of talking peace, Luminara," Kenobi drawled. "Is this how Jedi do things these days?"

"You have a funny way of negotiating," the Jedi countered. " _That's_ the Senator that's been working with the Jedi to arrange peace talks with you. She may not be so receptive since she's been _captured_."

"Captured?" Kenobi chuckled. "She's my guest."

Luminara's eyes narrowed as she observed her old friend, calm and confident and so, _so_ cocky, the clone that lay on the bed beside the Senator, his hands behind his head and infinitely amused as he watched, and Senator Amidala, still in her unconsciousness, but her presence was fearful and her arms were covered in dark bruises. She clutched her lightsaber tighter.

"This is low, even for a Sith Lord!" she growled, pointing her saber at Amidala. "I know you have been manipulating her, Qui-Gon said as much, but _look at her_! The very _least_ of this is rape!" Kenobi raised his hands in surrender.

"Luminara, I didn't do this," he said softly. "Padmé isn't my captive, she's my _mistress_ , and I brought her here to help her, not hurt her." Her eyes narrowed, her mouth drew into a thin line, but she was listening. "There's a reason she stood by me in the meeting with the Chancellor, Luminara, she and I have been lovers for some time now."

"You are... _delusional_ ," the Mirialan hissed. "Mentally manipulating someone into going to bed with you isn't affection! When Anakin finds out what you've done-"

"Why do you think she's here, Luminara?"

She felt the air get sucked right out of her, and for a moment, Luminara couldn't breathe as pieces slowly began falling into place, pieces of a puzzle she didn't know needed to be solved. The change in Anakin Skywalker had been attributed to rage from Qui-Gon's death, the always emotional man turning violent and arrogant withut his Master to temper him, but there was another explanation, one much less obvious, but one that made a great deal of sense. There was a missing piece in the equation. Anakin's wrath wasn't aimed at the Sith or the Separatists that killed Qui-Gon, it was aimed at _Obi-Wan_ , a Sith Lord, yes, but one that had avenged Qui-Gon by slaying Dooku. To any Jedi, this would have been seen as not a call to the light, but a step toward redemption. Kenobi had blamed Qui-Gon for his fall to the Dark Side, so _avenging_ the Jedi he claimed to hate spoke to the man's ability to forgive. But Anakin hated Kenobi, truly hated him, and the reason was now clear.

_Padme Amidala_.

She knew that Skywalker had feelings for the girl, and had been intimate with her once, a thing that had caused the young Jedi a great deal of distress at the time. But it had been assumed that the matter had been resolved. The man was a Jedi, after all, and a Jedi wasn't permitted to have such things. But Qui-Gon was nothing if not unconventional, and Anakin's sudden anger, the knowledge that Amidala had been put under the thrall of the Sith and made to give him her body, her sudden pregnancy, and now Skywalker's wrath turned toward Kenobi made sense. Skywalker was involved with the woman, and the Sith Lord had stolen her from him. Luminara released Barriss, deactivated her saber, and put her hand to her head. Emotions were so... _complicated_.

Barriss ran to her Master and knelt before him, quickly muttering her apologies and whimpering softly when a gentle hand stroked her cheek and dismissed the matter, and she gratefully brought his fingers to her lips. "Her child," Luminara said softly, pointing to the Senator. "Is it yours?"

"No," Kenobi said softly. "Skywalker's."

"And you expect me to believe that she left him for you when she's carrying his child?!" the Jedi gasped. Her head was throbbing. Obi-Wan was...so much like she remembered him. Seeing him outside of battle was something she wasn't prepared for the first time, and she wasn't prepared for it now. It was easy to write him off as evil, as lost forever when he was the Sith Lord causing havoc across the galaxy, but when he _talked_ , he was Obi-Wan, a man that suffered the loss of a lover and child, a man that now stood with the wife of a Jedi in her _defense_. It was unthinkable. But she believed him. And that was the worst of it.

"I don't need to expect it, I know you do," Kenobi drawled, looking her over carefully, feeling her conflict, her confusion, and then her quiet acceptance of what happened as she began piecing things together herself. Luminara had always been smart. "You saw how angry he was when we talked. You saw how Padmé fought to defend me. She is _afraid_ of him, Luminara, what's what you're feeling from her. I'm...trying to help."

" _Why_ ," the Jedi demanded. "Why would you help her! If the child was yours, I understand, but you _hate_ Skywalker! Why would you do this?!"

"I told you," he chirped. "We're lovers. Surely you know something about that." A sly smile crossed his face when the stalwart Master flushed dark green and averted her eyes. "Oh, this is _delicious_!" he chortled, drawing closer to his old friend. "Who is it that could make Luminara Unduli forget her vows, hmm? Was it Qui-Gon?" Sharp and vicious anger flashed across the Jedi's face, her furious eyes meeting amused gold. "Oh, I bet it was Qui-Gon! I felt _great_ affection from him for you, you know."

"Do _not_ speak ill of the dead!" she snapped. "I will not have you tarnish his memory for your amusement, Sith Lord!"

"Dead..." Kenobi whispered, so quietly she could barely hear, and a soft, knowing smile crossed his face, so similar to the one that Qui-Gon so often wore, and the Jedi felt herself tremble. "Not so dead as you may think."

She stared at him for a long while, her rage slowly fading to make way for disbelief and pity. She shook her head as she looked at her old friend. "Oh, Obi-Wan, they said you were insane. I didn't think that could be, but you are mad as they come." Before she could move, before she could even _see_ him move, Kenobi was by her side, her hand gripped tightly in his, and she was pulled hard into the Force, the jolt so sudden, so violent she thought she couldn't breathe, and then she felt it. _Him_. Qui-Gon Jinn, his presence bright and calming and completely unmistakable and so very, _very_ alive. Not... _living_ , but she could feel him distinctly in the Force, could just barely hear the faint calling of her name in his voice. She felt herself slammed backwards, her eyes flying open to look at the ceiling high above her head from where she had fallen back, and it was gone. But she _felt_ it. It burned inside her, and she couldn't catch her breath, couldn't calm her racing heart. Qui-Gon Jinn was _alive_. But... _how_.

"Peace," Kenobi began softly, "is impossible. At least right now. The Senate will never allow it, not after what happened on Stewjon. Sith Hells, I will have to placate the Mandalorians, they have this peaceful world protection... _thing_."

" _Qui-Gon_ ," she gasped, seeing to hear nothing of what he said. "I heard him, I _felt_ him!"

"As I said, not so dead as you may think." He looked her over, the woman gasping and confused as she rose to shaking legs. "Slain by Dooku, and he haunts _me_." Kenobi scoffed, rolling his eyes. " _Figures_. Focus, Luminara, we aren't here to discuss Qui-Gon, not exactly. I need your help."

She was shaking, but she looked at the Sith Lord, observed him carefully, and slowly nodded. "You said peace isn't possible. And how could it be, after what you've done on Stewjon?"

"That wasn't me, that was Skywalker." Kenobi scoffed and rolled his eyes when Luminara looked at him with disbelief. "Come now, Luminara, with how angry he has been? With what he's done to Padmé, is that so unbelievable?"

"Let's say that's true..." the Mirialan said slowly. "Let's say for a moment that Anakin did this. _Why_."

"To get to me. My...mother and father were there, I suppose, he did it to wound me, because such an action would wound _him_." Kenobi growled, anger suddenly getting the better of him. "Open your eyes, Luminara! Anakin has fallen to the Dark Side! I told you there's a Sith Lord in the Republic, and there is! My Master is over there, and you had better believe that he is keeping a close watch on Skywalker, especially after what's happened."

"...who is he?" The Jedi was silent for a moment, giving the Sith a chance to respond, but he said nothing. "... _Obi-Wan_. Who is your Master?! Tell me, and we can defeat him together! We can take him down!"

"You can't," he said softly. "I won't allow it." She was hurt, offended, and it angered the Sith Lord. He clenched his fist when he felt the Dark Side rear up in opposition to the Jedi, but he quickly subdued it. "I am _Sith_ , Luminara. The Jedi are already done. There is no stopping my Master, not anymore. The Jedi were undone _years_ ago, and if I tell you who my Master is, than you will all be dead _today_. I can't have that, I need more time."

"But you seek our deaths," she snarled, her tone accusatory and angry, but it had no effect on the Sith Lord.

"Yes," Kenobi said plainly. "The Force is pulled to the darkness, Luminara, the Jedi are _finished_ , and it's the will of the Force that it is so, not mine." He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "...but not yet. Right now, I need the Jedi, and if we are quick and very, _very_ careful, some of you may yet live, but time is running out. Anakin's fall is making things more difficult than they need to be."

"And peace?" she asked, but Kenobi just shook his head.

"It will never happen. Peace goes against my Master's plans." He smirked slightly and carefully observed the Jedi before him, cold and angry and so, _so_ afraid. "But if you help me now, we may be able to kill him."

"...what do you need me to do?" she asked softly. She didn't know what else to do. There was nothing left _to_ be done. If the Jedi knew about all this, if they knew Obi-Wan's plans, if this was all true, than being armed with the knowledge of it could help them live. Perhaps they could yet be saved.

"Tell Yoda everything we talked about," Kenobi said swiftly. "Tell him about Qui-Gon, tell him I want to kill my Master, and tell him that I want to speak with him. We can meet anywhere at any time, but I need to see him, and _only_ him."

"This is a trap," Luminara whispered. "It _has_ to be."

"It isn't, but I'm certain you will think it is. Within a month or two, I will have all the proof you need against Anakin Skywalker, if you need more proof than you already have. Follow him closely, and I believe he will lead you back to Sidious. If he _isn't_ inducted into the Sith yet, he will be very, _very_ soon." Obi-Wan smiled at her gently. "I can save you, Luminara. I can save _many_ of you, if you will allow it, if you can serve a Force that craves the darkness. If not..." He shrugged indifferently. "The Jedi are done. Anakin's fall, _my_ fall is proof of the Force's current alignment. Consider that your warning. I do hope the Jedi will have the wisdom to see the truth of this."

"...I'll tell Yoda," she said softly, calmly, but her heart was pounding in her chest.

"I'll get you on a ship back to Coruscant," the Sith Lord said softly. "May the Force be with you, my friend. I do hope we find ourselves standing together against my Master."


	109. The Ones We Leave Behind

It had been _months_. Months and months traveling from bar to bar in a drunken haze, sobering up only just long enough to do jobs to earn more drinking money. Every bar was invariably tuned into the holonet, and every report had to do with the war, with Kenobi, with his fallen Jedi commanders. Ventress had been kicked out of more bars than she could count for destroying their holonet projectors in a blind fury. It hurt too much to look at him, even now, and the more she tried to forget, the more she missed him. When Dooku had died, she felt something she hadn't felt in a long, _long_ time. _Hope_. With him dead, the prospects of the Separatists seemed bleak, even though they seemed to be doing remarkably well for having suffered such a devastating loss. It wasn't the loss of their forces that was causing the upheaval, it was the loss of Count Dooku, the rallying voice behind the Separatist movement. It appeared as though Obi-Wan was doing a fine job leading what was left and creating replacements for what had been destroyed, but the momentum was lost. It was ending, and then the Sith would have _nowhere_ to go.

If ever there was a chance to reach out to Quinlan, it was now. She very well may be killed, but what else was there for her? She had to try one last time. Months had passed, and she knew the Dark Side well enough to know that anger didn't fade so easily from the Sith, that revenge unsated sat and gnawed at a person, but Quinlan had always been strong. She had to try again. Finding him would be difficult, but she could do it.

And if he _was_ lost, if he was focused on revenge, fixated on killing her like he had been on Serenno, _he_ would find _her_.

She would bring nobody with her this time. No Jedi to interfere, no people to lose, nobody to die on her behalf. Just her. Kenobi may have been right. She could never escape the Dark Side, but maybe together, she and Quinlan could. So she left in the _Banshee_ , leaving behind a desolate, empty life in the hope of being together with her lover once again, and if not that, at least death would be swift. It was better than wasting away in cantinas. Her careful search had taken her across the galaxy, and for a man so present in the war, such a force for chaos and destruction, Quinlan Vos was _remarkably_ difficult to find. When she knew he was somewhere, had reports of his whereabouts, no matter how close she was, when she got there, he was gone. Hunting a hunter was proving to be a futile endeavor, and there were few hunters as good as Quinlan Vos. She _could_ have searched for him through Kenobi, but that prospect was far more dangerous. Obi-Wan wanted her dead as well, and were the two brothers in arms to be found together, it was unlikely that Kenobi would do anything but push Vos to kill her, to complete his revenge, to, at last, fully embrace the Dark Side with the death of his old self. It didn't help that for how present Vos had been in the war the past few months, Kenobi was just as absent.

Then came the massacre on Stewjon, a pointless, senseless slaughter that was said to be the work of Obi-Wan Kenobi, the Separatist leader striking the innocent of the galaxy as a warning to the Republic, a reminder of what resistance and continued fighting would bring. It rang false to Ventress immediately. Kenobi was a killer, yes, but not usually a senseless one. She had once given him a hard time about his distaste for killing, for his reluctance to murder Jedi, and it was only after she had left the Dark Side that she realized how bloodthirsty she had been. She never knew Kenobi to be like that. Even when Ord Mantell had burned, there was purpose and meaning. The criminals that killed his lover, a woman that Ventress remembered as being cold, aloof, and something of a bitch, but one that Ventress respected, resided on the planet. He descended for revenge, and the planet burned to make a point and to spread fear to those that oppose him. The massacre of her people on Dathomir served a _purpose_. She hated it, but she had recognized why. But _this_ , a small village on a small planet that nobody cared about, so small it had no representation in the Senate...this was _senseless_.

Something was wrong. It didn't seem big enough for the grand aspirations of Kenobi's insanity, nor did it seem like something he would have done when in his right mind. Regardless, it was the first trace of Kenobi that she had heard about in months, and it was worth following up on. She set her navicomputer for Stewjon. Perhaps the trail she followed would lead her to Quinlan.

* * *

She wasn't _bored_ , not exactly, but Ahsoka knew a waste of time when she saw one. There wasn't anyone to help in the village on Stewjon, because everyone was _dead_ , and had been dead for over a month by the time she got there. Still, Republic relief efforts to the small, previously ignored planet had been substantial, and on more than one occasion, she had seen a Jedi Knight walking around. They were, apparently, _investigating_. So were the Mandalorians, but she found their inquaries just as pointless. Yes, what had happened here was awful. Dreadfully so, but this was war, and targeting the innocent was par for the course for the Separatists. And kriffing hell, a _Sith Lord_ led them, and burning planets and slaughtering villages was sort of what they did. It wasn't like the Republic needed any more reason to hate Obi-Wan, though she supposed that she understood why the Mandalorians were here. Their Shadow King was responsible for something they didn't approve of. No wonder they were searching for a way to absolve him.

She walked around the town, mostly to look for valuables and possessions that hadn't yet been gathered by the relief efforts to bring to the nearby township, but she also kept an eye on the walls, on the floors, on the ceilings within the homes. There was carbon scoring and holes in places from blaster fire, bolts that missed or were deflected, though most of that had been scrubbed away. The intention was to make the town hospitable again, though none of the locals wanted to go anywhere near the place, which was understandable. But more disturbing and far more difficult to fix were the long scars in wood and metal left by a lightsaber. She stopped inside one home that was particularly bad, stepped inside, and felt the cold immediately. The Dark Side was strong here, even after all the time that had passed. Ahsoka shivered as she stepped inside, slowly walking around the humble home and looking at the furnishings that had been slashed, the deep, furious, crossing burns that marred the walls and the ground. It was different here. The other homes had similar markings, yes, but far less. These were...random. Wild. Furious. _Hateful_.

She didn't want to be here longer than necessary. Nor did anyone else, it seemed, because she found several things that had been left behind. Valuables and clothing and a blaster that had been discharged twice, among other things that she quickly stuffed into her pack, and she left in all haste. She didn't like how it made her feel to be in there, She felt...angry. A deep pull of darkness within her that spread like poison in her veins, and it made her shake and crave revenge. Revenge for _who_? It was completely irrational, a calling to the Dark Side that she recognized, and therefore could deny.

Ahsoka wanted out of the village. She'd deliver what she found to Bail Organa, report her findings about the _creepy house_ to Bo-Katan, and she'd be _gone_ to someplace new. Like Kashyyyk, which was suffering _badly_ , or Muunilinst, which had been under siege for _months_. She'd be fighting there, like she'd been fighting in many places since her work with the relief efforts began. Having a Jedi trained attache had been a huge benefit and had expanded their relief options, especially when dealing with one as skilled as Ahsoka was. Bail Organa had been especially grateful. He didn't have the warriors that Bo-Katan had at her disposal, and while he _did_ often cooperate with the Mandalorians, there was nothing like having a freelancer to call upon.

She was just about to leave the ghost town for the relief camps nearby when she spotted movement out of the corner of her eye, swift and athletic and so, _so_ familiar, a sight that she had seen a thousand times before. Without thinking, she followed, her hands tightly gripping the straps of her pack as she ran down the narrow streets, looking in through each door as she passed them, and she skid to a stop when she found him. Kneeling in one of the houses, his hand splayed upon the ground and eyes closed in concentration, was Quinlan Vos. She dropped her pack at the door as she called to him, the Kiffar could not turn quick enough to keep himself from being knocked to the ground by Ahsoka's tackling hug.

"What are you doing out here?" the Kiffar asked, laughing and groaning as he sat up, and he couldn't help grinning at his former student. "Kenobi said you're working for the relief efforts, there's not exactly much for you to do out here."

"I know," she said, deadpan. "I said that too, but, you know...everyone wants to help and nobody knows what to do about it. So they're sending aid and protection to the next township over." She wrinkled her nose as she looked around. "Why are you here?"

"Kenobi sent me to investigate," he said softly, laying his hand on a long burn on the ground. When the Togruta looked at him with confusion on her face, he sight and quietly explained, "He didn't do this, and he wants me to find proof of who did."

"... _he_ didn't do this?" she asked, her jaw slack as she stared at the man. If the Sith _had_ done this, he probably would have brushed it off, but he sent his top guy to see to it. Perhaps she had been wrong. "Well, if he didn't, _who_ did?"

Vos scoffed. "Skywalker, of course."

"What, Anakin?" Ahsoka laughed. "No, Anakin wouldn't do this. He's a great Jedi. He's a little emotional, but he isn't a murderer." When Quinlan didn't answer, she pursed her lips, pouting to convey her displeasure. "Well, _why_! Why would you think Anakin did this? You _liked_ Anakin!"

"Yeah, I did," Vos said as he stood up, helping the little Togruta to her feet. "But that doesn't mean he can't change, and Skywalker's fallen _hard_. He hates Obi-Wan, and this is where he's from, his parents lived here." The Togruta's heart skipped, and she lurched forward. She didn't want to believe it was possible, but...

She grabbed Quinlan's hand. "Follow me," she said quickly, and without waiting for a response, she rushed from the house and ran down the street, ducking into alleyways and between houses in her haste. Finally, she stopped outside the home, the _creepy house_ , and watched as her former Master tensed, shook slightly, then relaxed, as if welcoming the darkness that poured from the door. He walked in without a moment's hesitation, his eyes roving about the room and taking it all in, his hand laying on the abundance of deep gouges, and he hissed in frustration and rage.

"The trouble with my particular gift," Vos said softly as Ahsoka looked on, "is that no matter how much I learn, visions don't constitute proof." He exhaled sharply in an attempt to relieve his tension. "Your instinct was spot on. This is where the Kenobi's lived. Sith hells..."

"Did you see Anakin?" she asked carefully, not sure if she wanted the answer, but sighed in relief when the Kiffar shook his head. "No, blue flashes from the lightsaber, his parents...I think I know more about his parents than he does, he looks _so_ much like his father." He paused and shrugged. "If he ever aged." Ahsoka quickly sifted through her bag and after a moment of frustration, she turned it over and dumped its contents on the floor. It was mostly junk, mostly useless, but Quinlan's eyes were instantly drawn to the blaster that lay tangled in a heap of clothing, and before he could reach for it, Ahsoka took it into her hands and held it out to him.

"I found this in here," she said somberly. "I know you're not supposed to use your powers with weapons, but...you're sort of used to dark feelings now, huh?"

"You could say that," he muttered, smiling softly as he took the weapon, and a moment later, he saw it. The blue lightsaber in a gloved hand, the black cloak, the menacing figure's face contorted in rage as his blue eyes shifted to a pale, sickly yellow. There was fear, abject terror, screams and two shots fired before there was nothing. With a sharp gasp for breath, Quinlan opened his eyes, his heart beating fast with the fear experienced, Ahsoka kneeling to put her things back into her bag, but her eyes stayed fixed on the Kiffar as she worked.

"Did you see him?" she asked softly, and this time, Vos nodded, grabbing the Togruta's wrist to keep her from putting the small object into the bag.

"Yeah, it's Anakin," he muttered as Ahsoka dumped the bag's contents out again, and Vos quietly picked up each object in turn, putting some back in the bag after only a moment and others to the side when he determined they needed a second look. "I should have gotten here sooner, maybe there would have been more to go on, but this place has been _swarming_ with Jedi until now, and Kenobi told me to stay hidden..."

"I heard some of them talking, a lot of them don't know why they were here either." She shrugged. "One said something about orders directly from the High Council. Said it was important." Vos closed his eyes as he picked up objects from his pile one after the other, holding them tightly for a moment before putting them back in the bag.

"How close is the nearest township?" he asked, a smirk on his face that Ahsoka knew all too well. Vos _found_ something.

"Pretty close." She paused to bite her lip as she considered the distance. " _Really_ close. It only take ten minutes or so to run there."

"With or without the Force?"

Ahsoka smiled sheepishly. "Maybe with just a _little_ bit. I figure it's no more than five miles away, though."

"You're right, that's _very_ close," Vos said, excited as he stood and handed the bag back to Tano, who immediately slung the straps over her shoulders. "I'm thinking someone got away. And if that someone _didn't_ make it, I'm thinking that someone in the next town over may have seen the _very_ distinctive Jedi starfighter flying down." He grinned. "Wanna go find them?" Ahsoka didn't need to answer. Her grin said it all.

Together, the bounded out of the house, running only a short ways down the street before they skidded to a stop at the sight of a glowing blue lightsaber thrumming in the air before them. Neither of them could breathe for a moment as they stared at the Jedi that held it, and in an instant, Vos' green was in his hands, ready to attack. But Ahsoka just relaxed and smiled, whimpering softly when she looked into the face of Plo Koon. Seeing her made the Jedi falter, his lightsaber wavering in his grip, and he dropped it to catch the Togruta when she threw herself into the Kel Dor's arms.

"By the time I returned to Coruscant and heard you left the Order," Master Plo said softly, his voice filtered through his breathing apparatus, "you had been gone for days. I tried to find you, little Soka, I did..."

"I'm sorry," she whimpered, clutching the man closer to her, her shoulders shaking with emotion, and the Jedi only held her tighter. Vos took a look at the pair and shut his lightsaber off. He may have been looking for a fight before, but the reunion with the girl Master Plo had found, the tiny Togruta that he had looked after as a youngling had softened the Jedi. He had nothing to fear from Plo Koon. "Leaving without saying goodbye made it easier, I had to, I-I-"

"Hush now, I understand..." Vos couldn't see the Kel Dor's eyes because of the filters he wore over his eyes, but he could _feel_ him staring. Koon held Ahsoka at arm's length, looking her over carefully, feeling her through the Force, and then he looked back at Vos. "Did you leave the Jedi to join your Master in the Dark Side?"

"No," Ahsoka said quickly, sniffling and wiping tears away from her eyes. "No, I'm working with Senator Organa and Mand'alor Bo-Katan with relief efforts. It's..." She stopped, looked up at the sky as she considered her word choice. "... _difficult_ ," she settled on, "but it's rewarding, and I'm slowly finding the answers I was looking for."

"And you, Master Vos?" the Jedi said, drawing to his full height and calling his lightsaber back into his hand. Quinlan was about to reach for his own then the Kel Dor clipped it back on to his belt. "What business do you have here?"

"Investigating."

"For your Sith Master?"

"For my _friend_ Obi-Wan," he snapped, harsher than intended. Master Plo was never particularly offensive to him, and being so close to Ahsoka made him important to Vos as well. "It isn't all world burning and slaughter over here, you know. _Sometimes_ , we need to set the record straight." Plo was silent for a moment, and Vos could feel him observing him, not just with his shielded eyes, but through the Force. He was guarded, yes, but he had the feeling that the Master could see right through him, which Vos found odd since he _didn't have any eyes_.

"There has been talk within the Council," he said slowly, cautiously, and Vos instantly bristled. "Some of us believe this was not Kenobi's doing."

"Are you one of them?"

He was silent for a moment, shifting from foot to foot before he quietly said, "I have reasons for doubt. I came to see if I can find the truth myself, though I hope I find it _was_ him. The alternative is...quite distressing."

"Skywalker," Vos said somberly, and the Kel Dor slowly nodded.

"Quinlan says he saw Anakin, Master Plo," Ahsoka said quietly. "He touched a blaster that was fired and he saw him." The Kel Dor looked quickly to Vos in what he imagined was surprised, and cut off the question before the Jedi could ask it.

"It's true. I know it's not proof, but that's what Kenobi sent me to find."

"Do you want to come?" Ahsoka said brightly, and neither man could resist. "Quinlan thinks he found something!"

"If it's not too much trouble..." Plo said, observing the Kiffar once again, and Quinlan scoffed and glared at the Jedi Master as he passed by, his hands in his pockets and looking as uncaring as he ever did.

"Do what you like," he drawled. "Kenobi told me not to engage any Jedi, so _I guess_ it's fine." The skin around Plo's filtering apperatus wrinkled in the Kel Dor approximation of a smile, and he took Ahsoka's hand and followed the Kiffar out of the village and into the grassy, rolling hills.

Stewjon was...beautiful, Quinlan thought, the silence between the three allowing him to listen to the whistle of the wind through the thin, green grass, the soft cooing of wildlife from the safety of their trees, the chirping of birds as they flew through the air. It didn't _feel_ like a massacre had taken place here not so very long ago. It just felt serene, _peaceful_. Perfect for a young Force sensitive to grow up on before being carried away for a life of containment in the Jedi Temple. He imagined a little Obi-Wan running about here as a child, the calm and peace making it easy for him to connect with the Force, and he wondered how easy it was for his parents to give their son to the Jedi. None of it mattered, of course, but Quinlan wondered if life would have been better for Obi-Wan if he were free of all this.

He was drawn out of his thoughts when the Kel Dor chuckled deeply behind him. "You haven't changed so much, Master Vos." Quinlan frowned, turned around to walk backwards to face Plo and Ahsoka, and wiggled his fingers. _Menacingly_.

"I'm apprentice to a Lord of the Sith, Jedi. I've embraced the Dark Side."

Plo grunted his ascent. "You are darker than you were, yes, but not so dark as they are saying. They would be content to see you as a monster, but that is not the case, that much is obvious."

"You haven't seen me in action," he growled, but the Kel Dor just chuckled.

"You have always walked the edge, and now is no different. You are simply on the other side. That is not so terribly different. You are still the same man, or Ahsoka would not feel such ease around you."

"I'm sorry, did you not hear me when I said that _I joined the Sith_?" Vos said, his voice raised, but strangely, his voice didn't carry over the gently rolling hills. He looked over his shoulder and saw the township not far off. Plo seemed to brush even that off with an easy laugh.

"The Sith..." he drawled. "The Sith will suit you no better than the Jedi. You are a free spirit, Vos. No rule can contain you." Vos bit his lip as he felt himself flush with irritation, and he quickly turned around to face forward when Ahsoka began laughing. "You fell, Vos," Plo began again, "because of misplaced emotion gone wrong, and you joined the Sith to stand by your friend."

"You don't know me!" Vos snarled. "You know _nothing_ about me!"

"I do," the Jedi insisted. "It's obvious in everything you do. You have always missed Kenobi. I...understand the draw of wanting to be reunited with one that close to you."

Vos sped up when they came over one of the many hills and looked down to the village just beneath them, and muttering swift thanks to the Force, he rushed down the grassy slope to stand in the village, his quick eyes scanning the people in the streets. When Plo and Ahsoka joined him, he quietly commanded them to let him do the talking, and they agreed it was for the best. Together, they went in search of their evidence.

Not only did the villagers see the ship that brought the agent of death to the neighboring village, but they were harboring not one but _three_ people who had escaped the slaughter. They had hidden from the other Jedi that had come to ask questions, but the people recognized Ahsoka as being from the relief effort, and they were more than happy to talk with her. She was here to help, after all. Quinlan recorded the interviews, and all three had been very detailed, very descriptive, and the trauma, the _terror_ had kept the memory of it fresh in their minds.

Only one of them had seen the yellow Jedi starfighter as it landed just outside, but they all heard the screams, all saw the blue blade as it cut through people when they ran, all saw the heavy black cloak of the Jedi. But one, a girl no more than ten, had seen the monster's face. His hair fell to his shoulders in gentle waves, his face clean shaven, his eyes a cold, piercing blue, and he was _tall_ , nearly the same height, she said, as Quinlan, and down his face, he had a thin scar that just missed the outside of his eye. It was enough, and the description was spot on. She was clearly describing Anakin Skywalker, and it was enough for even the Jedi to agree that there could be no doubt. He had sensed in the girl nothing but fear and honesty. The girl was telling the truth. When they were done, Vos pocketed the datapad and the three left town in a hurry. The anxiety in the Jedi was palpable, and it was making Ahsoka and Vos _extremely_ uncomfortable. Ahsoka coped with it by clinging tightly to the Kel Dor's arm. Vos coped by holding his holodisc out in front of him and placing a call. The small blue image flickered on a moment later, and a wide grin spread across his face.

"Hello, lover..." Quinlan drawled, and the Sith Lord chuckled and crossed his arms, a small smile on his lips.

"You're interrupting something important, Vos," Obi-Wan said softly, mock importance in his voice as he thrust his thumb over his shoulder. "I've got Cody tied up to the bed. He wanted to wait for you, but I don't have that kind of patience."

Vos hissed in irritation. "Insatiable Sith bastard...you know, if I knew you had an appetite like this, I would never have given you my virginity, you're turning me into a _beast_."

"Oh, _please_ ," Kenobi scoffed. "I don't think you've _ever_ been a virgin, you were drinking and whoring the moment you left your mother." Slowly, Ahsoka and Plo Koon's faces appeared behind the Kiffar's shoulder, and the amusement dropped away from Kenobi's face as his relaxed posture straightened. "Friends, Quin?" he asked softly, and Vos' grin faded.

"I'm on Stewjon, Kenobi, I found your proof." Obi-Wan's eyes seemed to brighten.

"It would seem," Plo Koon said tentatively, "that you are innocent of this particular attrocity."

"Well, if the Jedi is admitting it, it _must_ be good. You're beautiful, Quin, well done."

The Kiffar beamed. "We found witnesses, I recorded their interviews, and I'll be copying the files to a data drive for you. I'd send it, but Barriss thinks that Tarkin is intercepting Separatist communications. _Again_. And those are the last hands we want this in."

Kenobi nodded. "We don't want Skywalker returning there to finish the job, no." A soft smile came across his face when Ahsoka pushed her way into view. "Lady Tano," he drawled, and the Togruta wrinkled her nose in distaste. "How's Bo-Katan treating you?"

Ahsoka crossed her arms defiantly. "She's... _alright_. Too Mandalorian."

"I'm sure she thinks you're too Jedi. She spoke highly of you the last time we spoke."

The Togruta's jaw dropped. Bo-Katan was a hard woman and she never complimented anyone. _Ever_. "What, really?!"

"Obi-Wan," Plo Koon cut in, and the ease on the Sith Lord's face faded away into guarded caution. "The implications of what we have discovered here are extremely distressing, and I imagine it's not just for us." When the Sith Lord said nothing, the Kel Dor took a breath and continued. "Luminara has been in frequent talks with Master Yoda. _Alone_. I can only imagine it's about this, they began right after the massacre here. There have been... _rumors_ about the possibility of working with you. Is that true?"

"...it may be, yes." Kenobi ran a hand through his hair and looked off to the side, his eyes closed as he thought, and he silently mouthed something to himself, as if he were carrying on one half of a conversation. "I understand the importance of this information to your Order, Jedi. I'm willing to provide you with the physical evidence that Quinlan is in possession of if you're willing to come talk to me."

Plo Koon nodded. "I would be happy to."

"Quinlan," Kenobi quickly commanded, "bring Master Plo to me. I've recently transferred to Mustafar. Bring Ahsoka, if it pleases you. I'll be meeting with Bo-Katan in the morning, she can pick Lady Tano up then."

"Ugh, stop calling me _Lady_!" Ahsoka snarled, and Quinlan and Plo both chuckled in amusement.

"Will do, Kenobi," Vos said, winking. "Be there soon. Tell Cody not to wait up for me." Obi-Wan flashed Vos a devious smirk before the hologram flickered off, and Quinlan placed the device back to its spot on his belt.

"I'd be inclined to believe this was a trap if the circumstances weren't so dire," Koon said softly. "Anakin would be a powerful rival for him among the Sith."

"Kenobi _has_ no rival among the Sith, Plo," Vos said, his tone superior and cocky, as if the accomplishment were his own. "Or among the Jedi. But...he is worried about what his Master is planning for Skywalker. He's already been replaced once by him. He _hates_ being replaced."

When the village came back into view, silent and still and unnerving, the three stayed clear of it, circling around wide as if coming too close would disturb restless, angry spirits of the slaughtered. When Quinlan's ship came into view, Ahsoka tapped him on the shoulder, and the Kiffar stopped to look at the somber girl. Anakin had been her friend, after all. She was taking this harder than she was letting on. At least when _he_ fell, he didn't go down murdering a village of innocent people. Quinlan frowned when he felt a sudden surge of guilt for what his own turn to the Dark Side had done to the apprentice he loved. Perhaps Plo was right. Perhaps he just walked the edge.

"I need to go tell Senator Organa that I'm leaving," she said softly. "I'll meet you back here soon, alright?"

I'll go with you," Master Plo said, his hand on her shoulder. "I need to contact the Council and tell them what I've learned and where I'm going."

"Careful about who you tell," Vos warned. "If I know the Council, not all of them will exactly be receptive to this without hard evidence." Plo said nothing, but nodded his acknowledgment. "We'll meet at my ship in ten minutes." They parted company, and Vos slowly walked toward his ship, a satisfied smile on his lips. This information was essential to Kenobi's plans. Exposing what Skywalker had become could very possibly take him out of the picture, at least temporarily, and while Vos knew that the Sith Lord was itching for a fight, his sights were set on Sidious, not Skywalker. In their training together, Kenobi had attempted to approximate his Master's style to the best of his abilities in order to prepare Vos for what he would face when they went to kill him. Kenobi had made no illusions about the danger that Sidious possessed, and even together, the Sith Master was more than a match for them. It was part of the reason that Kenobi had reached out to the Jedi. Bringing down Sidious would be far easier with someone like Master Yoda to help, and with how dire things had become, it was a possibility that the Grandmaster may actually help.

But all of it was predicated on getting this information to Kenobi. His plans _did_ allow for some leeway in the event that Skywalker had somehow _not_ made any mistakes in his first slaughter. It would just take longer, and with Skywalker elevating himself to a very real, very present threat, removing him sooner rather than later was essential. This information was going to do it. With Skywalker exposed, the Senate couldn't possibly do anything other than arrest him for the undue slaughter of innocent people, and the Jedi would be eager to take down another Sith Lord in the making. They had enough of those as it was. This was it. Skywalker was finished.

Vos stopped suddenly as he drew closer to his ship, his chest tight and his anger swiftly spiking to dangerous levels, his eyes blazing as he looked at Asajj Ventress. It seemed that _everyone_ was converging on Stewjon that day. For such a small, insignificant planet, it certainly was becoming a popular destination. Upon seeing him, Ventress' eyes seemed to light up with longing, and she began to rush toward him, and stopped, hands raised, when he drew and ignited his lightsaber, the green blade humming dangerously.

"Quinlan, I-"

" _Shut up_." She did as she was told, and it only served to make Vos more angry. "You've had time to make peace, Ventress, I hope you're ready to die."

"I _had_ to see you again," she said firmly, much stronger than she felt, her limbs twitching in anticipation as she felt the Dark Side wrap around the man that used to be her lover. "Vos, I am _so sorry_."

It was too much, and with a cry of fury, Vos rushed toward Ventress and slashed down at her, his blade cutting dangerously close to her face, but the athletic woman nimbly dodged out of the way, her own blades flying to her hand and igniting with a flash of red. Vos quickly reeled around and struck again, hard and fast and relentless, without mercy or remorse, and a swift retreat as she blocked the raining blows was all Ventress could manage.

"Vos, _please_ ," she said between clenched teeth. "I don't want to fight you!"

"Than lay down your weapons and die already!" the Kiffar snarled as he batted away one of her blades and drove the tip of his saber toward her chest, but her other lightsaber caught it and deflected it harmlessly to the side. He eyed the woman, her stance defensive, her manner desperate, the red blades in her hand seeming to fly with a will of their own to block his strikes, and deep inside him, Vos couldn't help but feel... _impressed_. Even having released her embrace of the Dark Side, she was powerful. He finally caught her, pressed both blades down beneath his own and circled his lightsaber around, flinging Ventress' weapons up and pulling her off balance. He gripped his saber in both hands and brought the blade down as hard as he could, but she just managed to bring her twin sabers crossed up before her, the strike so strong it sent the woman to her knees. Her jaw tightly clenched, she pressed back against Vos as he bore down on her, his blade creeping ever closer to her with each passing second, but she couldn't move without releasing his blade, and the second she did, it would be over.

"These are the weapons of the Dark Side," Vos growled as he leaned in, pressing closer to her, and Ventress steeled herself as she looked into yellow eyes rimmed with gold, hatred and fury blazing within them, and she knew that _she_ had done this. "You don't deserve to use such weapons..."

"And you still use the blade of a Jedi." Despite the overwhelming presence of the creature of hatred and rage above her, Ventress sounded calm and honest, and Vos felt his chest tighten as he suddenly struggled to breathe, the conversation he had with Plo suddenly echoing in his mind with new importance and meaning. _You have always walked the edge_ , he had said. Vos snarled and pressed harder, pushing the Jedi's voice to the side.

"Kyber crystals are hard to come by," he growled. "Perhaps I'll take _your_ blade after I kill you..."

" _Master_!" His attention quickly diverted to the new voice that rang clear in the air, and the momentary loss of focus was enough for Ventress to quickly deactivate her blades and roll out of the way before Vos's green cleaved into the ground. She stood quickly and reactivated her weapons and looked at her fallen lover as he cursed and spat and glared at the two newcomers. "Master, don't do this!" Ahsoka said again, rushing forward, but Plo Koon's hand wrapped around her wrist and kept her from advancing. Vos pointed his weapon at the Kel Dor and the Togruta.

"If you know what's good for you, Plo, you'll keep Ahsoka away from me! I _must_ finish this!"

"She _loves_ you, Master!" Ahsoka shouted as Quinlan turned his furious gaze back on Ventress. "Surely the Dark Side hasn't blinded you so much that you can't see that!"

"She lied to me, she killed my Master, _she used me_!"

"And I am _so sorry_ , Quinlan!" Ventress shouted, her voice suddenly hitching and she shuddered, shoulders shaking and looking away from the furious man. The tip of Vos' lightsaber began to waver. "All I want is you," she whispered in a voice so much weaker than Vos was used to. "It's all I can think about. How much I want you, what I would give to have you back, what I had so stupidly done to lose you..."

"You're _lying_ ," Vos snarled, but it lacked the conviction of before. All he could think about was what Ahsoka had said, how Ventress had been honest on Serenno, how they returned as quickly as they could to rescue them, how she flew into untold danger for love.

"If she didn't care for you, she wouldn't be here now!" Ahsoka cried. "Why can't you see that?! Dooku is _dead_ , what use could she possibly have for you now!"

"I can't stand to see you with the Sith, Quinlan," Ventress said as she turned off her weapons. "You don't deserve to be enslaved by that sort of hatred."

" _I don't care about the Sith_!" the Kiffar shouted, much louder, much more angry than he actually felt, like it was some kind of release, some pent up emotion that had been weighing on him without his notice. "I don't care about the Separatists, or the Republic, or the Jedi, or any of it! I joined the Dark Side, I follow the Sith because that's where _Obi-Wan is_." With a cry of anger and frustration and rage, Quinlan shut off his lightsaber and threw it to the ground, and Ventress felt her legs turn to jelly beneath her. She stumbled, almost fell several times as she rushed to Quinlan, stopping just in front of him when his fist balled into a tight fist, and she finally understood. So much had been pushing Vos to the Dark Side, and perhaps he fell because of her betrayal, but he had stayed for _friendship_. And _that_ wasn't a thing born in darkness.

"Quinlan," Ventress said softly, extending her hand to the Kiffar, and a flash of anger crossed his face for just a moment before it faded into want, longing, _desperation_ , just as strong as Ventress' identical emotions. "I can't serve the Dark Side, but I want to stay by you, and if you're doing this to help him..." She took a deep breath, her eyes fixed on his. "Maybe he can find it within him to forgive me. Maybe...we can be friends again, and we can _all_ be together."

She didn't notice it at first. It was slow, gradual, but she _did_ see it. The blood red and the pale yellow of his eyes began to darken, red becoming his deep, rich brown and yellow darkening ever so slightly with the promise of fading completely. He quickly reached out and took her hand, drew her against him, and embraced her tightly, grasping onto her so tightly she thought she could not breathe, but she didn't care. This was all there was. This was _everything_. They would work through everything else together.

Ahsoka breathed a sigh of relief and sagged against the Kel Dor, the pounding in her chest finally beginning to slow. She felt exhausted, far more than she had in a long while, and she could have stayed like that forever, could have easily fallen asleep against the Jedi Master, but he gently nudged her to stand on her own, and the Jedi slowly approached the two lovers, Ahsoka closely following behind. "Vos," he said firmly, and if the Kiffar heard him, he made no indication of it. "Vos, something is wrong. I couldn't get my message to the Council. Communications are jammed."

"What?" _That_ got his attention. He pulled away from Ventress, but kept one hand entwined with hers, the other extended to call his fallen lightsaber back to him. "That's impossible, I contacted Kenobi just a moment ago."

"Then what happened was recent. We need to leave. I will try to contact the Council when we are aboard your ship." Vos nodded, but said not a word more, walking swiftly to the ship and pulling Ventress behind him, who eagerly followed. It only took a moment for everyone to be secured, and without wasting a second longer, Vos lifted them off the ground and flew them up toward the expanses of space. He tried to patch through to Kenobi through the ship's comlink, but Plo had been right. Communications had been jammed. He tried again on his personal device, but to no different result. There were _many_ reasons why communications could fail, especially way out in a little system like this. He tried not to worry about it as his shuttle raced through space, away from Stewjon and out toward the system's other planet, the even smaller, less beautiful world of Colstev. They circled around it to where the dreadnaught _Enigma_ hung hidden from view of Stewjon, and within moments, they were inside the massive ship, the compliment of battle droids saluting as their commander returned to his post.

They all kept close to Quinlan, as if the closer they stood, the safer they were. These weren't the droids they saw so often as they battled their way across the galaxy, weren't the mass produced machines that fell so easily to Jedi blades. These droids were _advanced_ , the prestigious elite of the Separatist army, MagnaGuard and BX series droid commandos, the most dangerous droids they faced on the field. In the presence of the Separatist commander, it was as if the others weren't even there. With a battalion like this, it was no wonder that Vos had been able to be as destructive as he was.

They reached the command deck quickly via central corridors and elevators, and Ahsoka couldn't help but notice that the ship seemed so much smaller when you didn't need to sneak around through ventilation ducts and tiny, winding maintenance corridors. The bridge was wide and open, offering plenty of space for the commander to wander around the deck and look out the surrounding transparisteel that served the organic commander as an observation deck, the reddish brown of Colstev large off the starboard side. It seemed as though Quinlan didn't share his Master's distaste for droids, as several were milling about and operating the complicated control consoles of the ship. Vos strode to the holotable that sat in the middle of the deck, immediately linking up his datapad to the device, selecting the desired programs, and sending the information through. A light on the datapad flashed as it began transferring the data.

"I need this data compressed, translated, and transferred to a data stick," Vos commanded, and several droids muttered their affirmative at the command. The process wasn't a long one, but for the group, a sudden anxiety had taken hold, a sense of intense unease that seemed to permeate _everything_. "Somebody patch me through to Lord Lumis and get this ship powered up. I want to be out of here as quickly as possible." Again, a cascading, metallic affirmative went up on the bridge, and the droids began their task, beeping and clicking and whistling at each other as they communicated.

"Do you think Obi-Wan will let me back?" Ventress said softly, trying to contain the tremor in her voice and failing horribly. Vos absently nodded, his eyes on the datapad, obsessively watching the progress bar. The more intently he stared, the slower it seemed to go.

"Obi-Wan and I discussed you a while back," he said softly, finally tearing his eyes away from the progress of the transfer and looking at the Nightsister, a soft smile on his lips. With Talzin and Savage dead and Maul as good as dead, Ventress remained the last of the children of Dathomir. "He seemed open to the idea of you coming back. He said you would make a fine ally."

"...I have missed him," she said softly, grabbing Quinlan's hand and leaning her head against his shoulder. The Kiffar's ease faded, though, when the droids reported that they could establish no communications with Lord Lumis. As suspected, communications had been jammed. Plo Koon growled softly, his hands running over the controls of the holotable, and he quickly punched in the call code for the Jedi High Council. The results were the same as before. The hum of the engines as they powered up filled the air around them, and slowly, the dreadnaught began to pull away from the planet, heading for the nearest hyperspace relay.

As the data finished translating, Vos played back the interviews, one after the other, staring in rapt attention at the oppressive fear of the people they talked to. Ventress held Vos' hand tighter, the meaning of these recordings painfully clear. Obi-Wan hadn't led the slaughter on Stewjon. It was a Jedi, and she recognized the description as that of Anakin Skywalker. As the recordings finished their playback, Plo Koon mournfully groaned.

"We spent so long training Anakin to fight Obi-Wan," the Jedi said softly. "We had assumed that they stood to oppose each other. We had thought that one vergence in the Force would be strong enough to negate the other."

"It is that way, isn't it?" Quinlan asked. "I mean, they've always been at each other, it has _always_ been Kenobi and Skywalker."

"Maybe so..." Master Plo said. "But so much of his recent training has been done with Obi-Wan in mind, so much done to drive in him the idea of purging Kenobi from the galaxy. No wonder he is obsessed. No wonder this massacre happened. No wonder he fell to the Dark Side. We did this," the Jedi droned morosely, gripping the holotable and hanging his head. " _We did this_."

The lights on the bridge suddenly cut out, the hum of the engines fading as the ship powered down, and that feeling of unease could no longer be ignored. "Sir?" one of the droids at the controls droned somewhat nervously. "We seem to be having some difficulty."

"Whatever it is, _fix it_!" Quinlan snarled, rushing over to one of the other stations and grabbing the data stick with the interviews on it and tucking the device into his robes. He ran over to the scanners and quickly looked over them as the ship switched over to emergency power, and he felt his heart stop when he saw something behind them at the edge of their reading. Quickly, he flipped on the rear cameras and looked on the display, his eyes widening as he looked upon a large, Republic cruiser, four large, round protrusions upon its wings that made it seem ungainly, but it was surprisingly quick.. "Forget it," Vos said swiftly. "Forget fixing the problem, we're jumping to hyperspace on emergency power. _Now_."

The droids moved to do as commanded, and the ship responded, though it complained to do so. The dreadnaught rumbled, the ship shaking under their feet as the hyperdrive began to roar, the stars around them beginning to streak as the ship readied to jump, and they lurched forward in a sudden stop, the straining wheeze of the engines drowned out by the blaring of alarms and the flashing of warning lighting. Sensing the ship's distress, the droids cut the power entirely, leaving the ship running on its emergency power. Still staring at the screen, Plo Koon shook his head.

"That's an Interdictor Cruiser, and _those_ ," he said, pointing to the semi-spheres on the wings, "are gravity well projectors. We aren't getting away."

" _Yes we are_!" Vos snarled, rushing to the console and quickly diverting the necessary power to the escape pods. "We have to, we need to get this information to Obi-Wan." With the power diverted, he grabbed the datapad from the holotable, threw it to the ground, and smashed it under his heel. He flashed a quick grin to his companions, motioned for them to follow, and they all sprinted toward the blast doors to get to the hallways and the escape pods beyond. Just as he began punching in the code to release the locks on the doors, a blue lightsaber thrummed and hissed it's way through the doors right by his head, and with a startled gasp, the Kiffar jumped back, watching as the thick metal was reduced to dripping, molten sludge. He looked back at the bridge behind him at the Jedi, his former Padawan, and his lover, and Quinlan Vos felt his chest tighten. There was _nowhere_ to go.

With a snarl of fury, he took his lightsaber in his hand and ignited it, the green blade seeming to thrum with as much anger as the man that held it. "Alright," Vos snapped, his blood racing as he called the Force to him. "Our top priority is getting this data to Obi-Wan."

"Shouldn't _our lives_ be our top priority?" Ventress hissed, and Vos' shoulders tightened with tension.

"That's _implied_ , Asajj! We can't deliver this thing if we're dead, and I have no intention of dying today, not when I just got you back, not when Obi-Wan needs me." Vos quickly surveyed the room, watched as the cut in the door slowly grew larger. "Alright, we're going to get this guy, partner up," the Kiffar commanded, grabbing Ventress hand and smiling softly as the Jedi moved protectively in front of Ahsoka, his blue blade ignited. "We need to get out of this room, we need to get to the escape pods just down the hall. It isn't far, we should be able to manage." He whistled, and the droids snapped to attention. "We don't know what this guy's brought with him, so whatever you do, don't let anything in here. There's only one way out, and it's through them."

"If this is a Jedi-" Plo began, but Vos quickly cut him off.

"This isn't a Jedi, this is _Skywalker_. We all know it, so man up and do what must be done." There was no argument after that. Ahsoka and Ventress lit their lightsabers, four more blades between them humming to life, and Vos preyed that it would be enough. They've faced worse before. Vos focused himself, watching as the molten trail circled up, and when the lines of the large circle finally touched, Vos pushed hard against the cut metal with the Force, sending the circular metal cutting flying backwards, and several screams could be heard as people were crushed under the weight of it. It gave them a moment where the way was clear, and with a wave of his hand, the droids begun pouring blaster fire blindly through the hole. The head start had been welcome, but the delay only lasted a moment. After that, the troops beyond the door began returning the fire, and the droids rushed forward toward the opening as clone troopers began pouring in.

The air was filled with blaster fire and screams and the sparking groan of destroyed droids, the swift thrum of lightsabers deflecting the fired plasma back at the clones that shot it. It was the worst kind of battle, the careless brutality of one that views those under their command as expendable, and while droids _were_ expendable, it hurt the Jedi and Ahsoka to see the bodies of clones thrown in to their deaths so easily, their bodies quickly piling up as they rushed forward and quickly died. Before long, there were no droids left, only the four lightsaber wielders deflecting fire from clones that blocked their only escape. Slowly, they advanced, carefully aiming their deflections to strike at the clones, drawing closer and blades moving faster as they increased their rate of fire. And suddenly, they stopped firing, and nobody had to tell the four Force sensitives that this was their chance. They rushed forward, lightsabers held before them, and quickly ceased their advance when the reason for the break in the fighting walked through the opening and stood facing them, blue lightsaber glowing in his hand and black hood pulled over his head.

_Anakin Skywalker_.

"Take shots when you have them," he whispered to his clones, his voice cold and hollow. "Don't let anyone leave this room."

"Anakin..." Ahsoka whimpered, stepping forward and hardly able to keep her lightsabers from shaking. "Anakin, please, stop this."

"Oh, Ahsoka..." Anakin said wistfully, almost sweetly, and the Togruta shivered. "Are you conspiring with _them_ now? I should have suspected as much, your Master is _Sith_." His cold blue eyes narrowed in Vos' direction. "I bet he taught you this whole time to be like them."

Vos' grip tightened on his lightsaber. "Don't you _dare_ bring her into this, Skywalker, this is between you and me."

Anakin scoffed, twirling his blade around his hand. "You and me? Don't lower me to your level, Vos, you are _nothing_. This is between me and Kenobi..."

He moved fast, almost faster than any one of them could see, and Vos brought up his lightsaber to quickly ward off the flurry of Skywalker's attacks, driven back almost to the viewport. Skywalker didn't let up until Ventress rushed in, her two blades swinging ruthlessly down upon the young man, and Anakin reeled around so fast, whipping his blade around at such speed it nearly cut across Ventress' stomach, the woman only barely able to twist out of the way. When Ahsoka and Plo entered the fight, Anakin stood between them all, deftly blocking and parrying each strike and using his opponents' own attacks against the other, allowing Anakin to be as brutal, as reckless, as _wild_ as he wished, while the other four had to be cautious to keep from hitting each other.

Ahsoka shrieked in pain when she blocked a mad slash from Anakin, her blades crossed before her, momentarily locked with Skywalker and unable to deflect the sudden blaster shot, and plasma burned through her shoulder. The pain was crippling and her arms shook, her legs giving way as she dropped to her knees, and Anakin raised his blade and brought it down toward her, the finishing strike swiftly stopped when Master Plo shot his blade beneath the renegaed Jedi's and knocked it out of the way, but he did not pursue. The Jedi stayed crouched upon the ground over the Togruta, one of her sabers in her hand as he deflected the clone's blaster fire, both away from Ahsoka and his other two allies. When it looked like Anakin would rush the Jedi Master and his fallen charge, Vos intercepted, his green blade sparking against blue, and he pressed Anakin back with an offensive so fierce that it put Skywalker off guard.

Sensing the sudden imbalance in their dangerous opponent, Ventress renewed her efforts, diving deep within the Force for as much power as she could gather, and with a fierce cry, she threw herself at Skywalker, her and Vos keeping the angry young man between them, their minds connecting as they battled as one. For a moment, it was just as it had used to be, Vos and Ventress, the two fighting together, their styles flowing perfectly in a delicate balance of savage strikes and graceful movements, and it was keeping Skywalker off the mark, his blue blade moving fast and wild as he tried to block and parry and dodge strikes from three blades at once. With Plo Koon keeping the blaster fire away as he slowly advanced upon the clones, Ahsoka keeping close beside him, there was nothing to distract Ventress and Vos from Skywalker. The longer they fought, the more in tune they fell, and even as they fought, even as green and red worked in tandem to beat back the swiftly moving blue, Quinlan thought it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

The Dark Side suddenly spiked, a vicious, sudden surge of cold that pulled the very air out of the room, and they were too late to defend against the sudden fury of Anakin. His entire body seemed to clench with hatred and rage, and with a howling cry, the Force exploded with power, sending Vos and Ventress flying through the air and striking opposite walls of the transparisteel viewport with a hard crack. Quinlan didn't have time to recover before Skywalker was on him, the blue blade beating down on him hard and his own green just barely able to block as he scrambled to get his footing. It wasn't enough, and the vicious attack kept him off-balance, the wrathful Jedi Knight not letting up for a moment as strike after strike sent sparks showering into the air as he tried to beat his way past Vos' increasingly feeble defense.

Ventress rose to her feet as quickly as she could, but everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. She heard the screams of clones as Master Plo cut through the last of them and then quickly reach out with the Force to grab Ahsoka and throw her far away from Skywalker and Vos as they drew dangerously close. She saw Vos, off balance and unfocused as he attempted to recover his footing, but was never able to. She saw Anakin, his face contorted in rage, his eyes a glowing, ice blue, his attacks wild and powerful and so, so dangerous. She watched as Skywalker's blade circled Quinlan's, knocking it to the side with an upward slash so strong that it sent the already reeling Vos staggering, unable to recover fast enough as Skywalker's blade circled around for another upwards slice. Time seemed to stop for everyone except for Ventress, and she was moving before she even thought to. She knew _exactly_ what had to be done.

Quinlan watched as the strike that should have been fatal was miraculously blocked by a red blade, and his heart soared as Ventress's saber slipped under Anakin's and forced it upwards, The blue blade suddenly changed directions in the air, descending rapidly in a violent, slashing strike that was too fast to defend against, and Ventress' scream of pain only lasted for a moment as the blue blade bit down her shoulder and cleaving a line straight down her back, so deep, it nearly cut through her completely. She fell against the horrified Vos, her lightsabers clattering to the floor, the wound too large to fully cauterize and blood splattered _everywhere_ as they fell to the ground together.

He could hear screaming, tortured and pained, and it took Vos a moment to realize it was his own, his attention torn from Skywalker as he turned his lover over and watched the life drain swiftly out of her, her chest heaving and each labored breath bringing more blood to her lips. Anakin broke off the attack, watching as the Kiffar clutched the dying woman to him, and he shivered, a sudden rush of power flowing through him like a current in his blood, his muscles, his bones, and he felt _strong_. Stronger than he ever had, and he reveled in the feeling of it, pacing like a caged animal for a moment and drinking in the sight of suffering before him. When it became too much, when he felt that no more power could be taken within his body, he raised his lightsaber once again and brought it sweeping down toward the grieving Kiffar, only to have his blade meet the blue of Master Plo Koon.

"Anakin, that's _enough_!" the Jedi commanded, his voice raised and angry, and Skywalker laughed in disbelief.

"You would _defend_ this Sith Lord?! This is Kenobi's _apprentice_!"

"And he is _beaten_ , you have won, Anakin, this fight is over! There will be no more death today."

A grim, sinister smile crossed over Anakin's face. "The way I see it, _Master_ , there are three more Sith here. Kenobi's Apprentice, _Quinlan's_ Apprentice, and the Jedi Master that is working _with them_."

Plo exhaled slowly as he centered himself in the Force. "I only see _one_ Sith here, Skywalker." With a snarl of fury, Anakin held out his hand, one of Ventress' sabers flying to his hand and he activated the red blade and began a vicious attack on the Jedi, faster and stronger than before and far more dangerous with two blades than he was with one. The Dark Side roared within him, incited into a mindless rage by the smell of blood and death and suffering, and with the full rage of Anakin's focus upon him, Plo Koon began to lead Skywalker away from Quinlan and the injured Ahsoka.

Vos touched her face as carefully as he could, as though the slightest touch may break her further, and he stared helplessly as her eyes slowly slid out of focus, but her face was peaceful, like her sacrifice had been worth it. He gripped her tighter. " _Don't go_ ," he pleaded, his voice soft and hoarse with emotion, and a slight, pained smile came to her face, the hand that still functioned reaching for his, and she choked as she tried to speak. A swift shudder ran through her, and a moment later, she was gone, limp in his arms, and Vos felt as though the life had drained from him as well.

" _Quinlan_!" The swift, commanding shout pulled Vos' attention away from the dead woman in his arms, and he looked up to see Plo Koon fighting valiantly against Anakin, but the younger man was far too fast, far too strong, the Force snapping and raging at his command and filling him with power beyond any within the room. Vos rose to his feet, his lightsaber reigniting, the spark of rage giving him new life as he watched Ventress' killer fighting with _her_ lightsaber. He began to advance, started to rush in to help the Jedi, but Plo quickly interrupted him with, "Get Ahsoka out of here!"

"You need help!" he insisted, but a quick grunt of effort from the Kel Dor as he swiped Anakin's blades to the side stopped him again.

"And if we don't manage to stop him, she will die too!" he snarled. "Get out of here, I'll hold him off, tell the Jedi what has happened here!"

Quinlan looked at Ahsoka, the girl grasping her lightsaber in her hand and staggering toward the fight, the wound in her shoulder more serious than he had suspected, and he imagined her dead as well, and he couldn't bear the thought. He called Ventress' other lightsaber to him and whistled sharply as he threw it, the Kel Dor catching his meaning immediately as he threw Ahsoka's lightsaber toward Quinlan just as he caught Ventress' red, igniting it the moment it landed in his hand, and the swift, hard downward strike caught Skywalker off his guard, the tip burning into his leg, enough to enrage him, but not harm him. Vos ran to Ahsoka and grabbed hold of the shouting girl, taking her lightsaber from her and switching it off, and with the girl screaming her objections and crying for the Jedi she loved, Quinlan rushed out of the room and down the hall with the girl in tow.

"Just how deep does the corruption of the Jedi go?" Anakin snarled. "They are _Sith_ and you are _helping them_!"

"You can still end this madness, Skywalker," Plo gasped, Anakin's strikes becoming faster and heavier, and for just a moment, Plo's blade was trapped under Skywalker's, the blue weapon poised above his head, and Skywalker thrust downwards. The Jedi's blade managed to intercept it, but couldn't deflect it away completely, and Skywalker's lightsaber fell upon the Kel Dor's wrist, his hand and lightsaber falling to the ground. Another quick strike and the other arm was severed, and Plo Koon fell to his knees, Anakin's blade pointed at his throat.

"I am ending it," Skywalker said coldly, and he pressed the blade through the Jedi's neck, swiftly wrenching it to the side to sever his head from his shoulders. He didn't waste a moment longer to rush out of the control deck and down the hall to catch those that had escaped.

With Ahsoka struggling, it was slow going, the helplessly sobbing girl completely inconsolable as Vos punched the console on the wall to open the hatch to the escape pod. The corridor was a stupidly long one, yet another result of idiot engineering on the part of the Separatists. Hissing in frustration as she made yet another attempt to rush back and help the Jedi, Vos grabbed her by the shoulders, the Togruta wincing in pain.

"Ahsoka, _listen to me_ ," he growled, taking a deep breath as he organized his thoughts, and he froze when he felt the powerful presence behind him. One look at Ahsoka's face said it all, and he followed her gaze to stare straight at Anakin, the tall man looming at the end of the hallway, an arrogant smirk on his lips, his comlink active in his hand.

"Tarkin, they're going to release an escape pod. I'm going to stop it from launching, but if I don't, shoot it down when you see it." There was tightness in his chest, but Vos felt unafraid. He turned his attention away from Skywalker and back to the shivering Ahsoka. He'd be here before the pod could launch, even if he took his time. There was only one thing left to do. Reaching into his robes, he pulled out the data stick and pressed it into the Togruta's palm and closed her fingers around it.

"Ahsoka, listen to me," he said swiftly, quietly, ignoring the sound of Skywalker's casual, confident footsteps, the thrum of the lightsabers as he ignited them. "You have an important job to do now, alright? You need to deliver this to the Jedi."

"The Jedi?" she muttered. "But Obi-Wan-"

"Obi-Wan _knows_ what happened on Stewjon, but the Jedi don't. We're cutting out the middleman, you need to deliver this to the Jedi."

"But what about you?!" she cried, her voice rising in panic, but the Kiffar just smiled at her.

"I'm going to give you a chance to get away." The frantic Togruta started to speak, but he covered her mouth and clipped her lightsabers on to her belt. "Ahsoka, my actions have hurt you more than I'm sure I know. Let me make it up to you now by buying you the time you need to get away." He pushed her into the escape pod and slammed his hands on the console, the hatch slamming shut and he swiftly locked it, looked over his shoulder at the now much, _much_ closer Anakin, and turned his attention back to the console and began to work as quickly as he could. Ahsoka frantically fumbled inside and activated the intercom.

" _Master_!" she shouted, her breath hitching with sobs. "You can't do this, you can escape! _Please_!"

"He's going to cut you out of there before the pod can launch." Vos laughed as his fingers drifted swiftly over the controls. "These things weren't exactly designed to save organics, it's a serious design flaw. If you see Obi-Wan, tell him that needs to be fixed _immediately_. Or maybe it's just the emergency power, it's always _so_ unreliable."

He was joking, of course, and the gravity of what was happening finally hit her. Quinlan was going to die, and there was no stopping it. He was dying to save her, and she _wasn't worth it_. "What am I supposed to do, Master?" she whimpered, and the Kiffar looked up at her and smiled, his work on the console done, and Ahsoka found herself looking into the deep, brown eyes of the Master she had loved more than anyone.

"You're going to survive, Ahsoka," Quinlan said firmly. "There should be medical supplies in there with you, you're going to patch yourself up, and you're going to survive, no matter the cost. On that, at least, I taught you well." He pressed his hand to the glass between them and smiled softly, ignoring the thrum of the lightsabers that was now so, so near. "I could not have asked for a better Padawan, my Ahsoka. I am _so_ proud of you." He rose quickly and activated his lightsaber, pointing the green blade at Skywalker, an arrogant smirk on his face that made Vos seethe with anger, and he pressed his hand to the console, the device beeping as it worked to issue his commands, the door hissing as the airlock sealed.

"You think that will save her?" Skywalker asked, tapping his red blade against Vos' green. "It's over, Vos. And I'm really, _really_ going to enjoy killing you."

"Yeah, I bet..." Vos drawled, smirking when the console beside him beeped, and a moment later, Anakin's comlink flashed with an incoming call. Vos grinned. "You've already lost, asshole."

He frowned, hissed in frustration and answered the call. " _Which_ escape pod?" Tarkin asked, his voice strained and annoyed, and Anakin inhaled sharply, swiftly backing away from Vos as the Kiffar batted his blade away and stabbed at his chest. "There are _thousands_ of them."

Anakin didn't say another word as he turned his attention toward the smug Kiffar, his blade raised and ready and looking like he had already won. Rage pulsed within him, greater than any he had ever known, and his burning eyes fixed on the defiant Kiffar, the screaming Togruta pounding on the glass between them as her pod prepared to launch with the thousands of outers. Red and blue blades in hand, Anakin wielded the weapons and the Force like a raging, uncontrolled storm, and to his credit, Quinlan held his ground, keeping the raging Skywalker from getting past him and to the escape pod before it launched.

Ahsoka pounded on the glass, frantically searched for an emergency release or _something_ , and stopped, looking transfixed as Quinlan Vos was slammed against the door. He pressed away from it, hie eyes locking with hers for just a moment before the end of a red blade exited his chest where his heart lay. Ahsoka fell silent, tears streaming from her face as she watched her Master's eyes widen with pain and slowly slide out of focus, a slight smile on his face as a shiver ran through him, and she could feel his presence in the Force vanish completely, the sudden severing of their connection causing her head erupt in pain. The last thing she saw was Anakin Skywalker call Quinlan's lightsaber to his hand, his eyes glowing and yellow and _awful_ in the shadows of his face, and the pod launched, one among thousands as they drifted toward the gravitational pull of nearby Colstev.


	110. Grief

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So after that last chapter, I had to take an emotion day. Emotion day is over, and now it's time to get back to work!

He didn't know how long he sat in darkness. Without sleep, without hunger, without light to mark the passage of time, it was impossible to tell. He felt nothing - _nothing_! - but bitter hatred and rage and it sat deep inside him, heavy and painful and toxic. He hadn't thought it was possible to sink deeper within the Dark Side, and yet, here it was. He had felt what it was like to drown before in the waters of the Force. He had struggled against it, paddled feverishly to stay afloat, to catch his breath. Grief had driven him mad, the waters themselves catching with flames that could not be put out, and he felt himself drown, the water filling his lungs, the more he struggled, the more he burned, the more he _hurt_. But now, it was different. Now, the crashing waters of the Dark Side pulled him under, and he did not resist, did not try to swim, made no move to catch his breath. When he stopped sinking, he breathed deeply, allowing the dark waters to fill his lungs and the void left inside him with vehement rage and unquenchable hatred so strong that nothing else was left, and he found that he _didn't_ drown, didn't gasp for air. He could breathe it like he was born for it, and filled with the Dark Side, he sank deeper.

Lumis didn't know the darkness went so deep, didn't know how completely it could blot out the light. Even Qui-Gon, in all his brilliant, blinding radiance couldn't reach him here. It was calm here. There was nothing to see, nothing to hear, nothing to feel but the bitter cold. In the perfect darkness where he now sat, there was only rage, so powerful, so pervasive, so encompassing that it's violence seemed to stir nothing at all. This was wrath, patient, calm, _focused_ , devoid of the flames that drove him to insanity, free of the grief that shackled him to the passion of revenge, irrational and reckless. Any shred of madness left within him was destroyed in an instant, any remaining smouldering embers doused by encompassing darkness and focus so refined, so _sharp_ that nothing could deter him from his course. This was the domain of the Sith, laying in wait for a thousand years, generation after generation building toward a final revenge that only the future would ever see, the groundwork laid by those with revenge still burning unfulfilled within them, only for that wrath to carry to the next Sith that took the mantle of Master. Truly, the Force had set him free. But he was not here often.

Most of the time, it was blind, screaming rage.

The kind that lost all reason or logic or rationality, the kind that forgot every plan, every carefully laid trap, _everything_ in favor of immediate and bloody revenge. His plans, so carefully laid, had been lost, but it didn't matter. _Nothing_ mattered, because Quinlan Vos was dead. This was a routine mission, an _inspection_ , and one that Vos had complained about because it was too boring, too _safe_ for the reckless Kiffar, especially compared to the danger he put himself in daily on the battlefield. Obi-Wan was certain that after the death of Satine, after the death of his son, insanity had burned away his ability to feel pain, but he had been so, _so_ wrong. Passion was the way of the Sith, and he felt, and he felt _deeply_ , the Force offering him no relief, no comfort, _no mercy_ from the pain that was quickly converted to blinding hate that tempered his rage into a razor-sharp weapon held in the hands of one who sought only revenge.

All he could see was Anakin Skywalker. All he could think about was Quinlan's lightsaber clutched in that hateful, mechanical hand, his friend laying dead on the ground before the loathsome fallen Jedi. The war didn't matter. The Sith imperative no longer mattered. He would tear this galaxy apart, he would destroy a thousand years of careful Sith planning and manipulations if it meant he could get his hands on Anakin Skywalker. The only thing that mattered was revenge, cold and consuming. He wanted, _needed_ to get Vos' lightsaber. It wasn't his, but he had a right to it far more than his murderer did, and he had every intention of cutting it from Skywalker's cold, cybernetic grasp.

He slowly opened his eyes and was met by darkness streaked with wild, crossing scars that burned molten yellow on the distant walls of the room, the result of his lightsaber in his latest fit of explosive rage. The air was still and heavy with the stench of burnt flesh and death and decay, the faintly glowing gashes casting minimal light on the bodies that lay still and hopelessly dismembered around him. Their deaths, Twi'leks and Korun and several other species that he kept as slaves within his palace, hadn't been intentional, hadn't any meaning, hadn't died _usefully_ or with purpose, as so many of his murders did. They had simply gotten in the way, as did droids and equipment and doors and walls and the floor, all things that intersected the path of his grief-fueled rage. Rage that had turned to revenge against Skywalker, revenge that was to be carried out swiftly and immediately, and _would_ have been if hateful, _hateful Cody_ hadn't _stolen all his ships_. This clone, his supposed friend, the only one he had left, had left him _stranded_ on Mustafar, with only his palace and those trapped within to absorb the violent outbursts that _should_ have been put to Anakin Skywalker.

A low, deep growl sounded behind him, his robes and hair moved by the long, slow exhale of Yoda, the beast driven to exhaustion and now lay recovering in the hopelessly destroyed room. When he heard about Quinlan's murder, a grim report that was delivered by cold, unfeeling command droids, a devastating thing that was repeated as a basic, simple matter of fact, a number on a _casualty report_ that didn't differentiate between lost droids and a lost best friend, Obi-Wan had _lost it_. The droids that delivered the report were destroyed. So was the room where the message was delivered. So was _everything else_ that stood between him and his random, hate-driven path through the palace. He had known before he was told, of course. When it had happened, when his friend was cruelly torn from this world, he had _felt it_ , a sharp stab in his chest that staggered him and knocked him out of his careful focus and sent him reeling. He had pushed the feeling aside, unwilling to believe it, unable to accept that his friend was dead, the denial so vehement that Force seemed to lash out at the very idea. The news from the droids had simply been a confirmation.

Cody had managed to escape the room when the news was delivered, quickly running as the red and black blades were ignited, and Obi-Wan hadn't seen him since, because the clone was too busy _stealing his ships_. When he found the hangar empty, new rage gripped him, this time toward the clone that had effectively stopped him from jumping into the _Umbra_ and flying away in search of Skywalker. He raged across the lower levels of the palace, the part that had once belonged to the Black Sun that now existed only in memory, and he destroyed everything in his path, including dividing walls that were slashed into molten pools were they to be in the rampaging Sith Lord's path.

He had tried to contact his ships, the _Negotiator_ and the _Liberator_ which he knew hung in orbit over Mustafar, snapping for them to send a ship to the palace, but the clones had politely refused him, claimed that they had been removed to guard the outer edges of the system, and they could not be diverted. In his indignant rage, Kenobi had broken the communications array, and several times after, had contacted his ships via his personal comlink to try and coax his way off-world, ignoring the voice in his head warning him not to take Skywalker's bait. It never stopped him for long. Only exhaustion stopped him, his body shaking from effort after _who knows_ how long, and he collapsed upon the ground, literally unable to move, but his rage still drove him onwards, assuming control of the rancor instead and using the beast to continue his expression of fury until he too lay upon the floor in exhaustion.

His considerable rage only grew, but the edge had been worn off in his destructive frenzy, and in his exhaustion, he fell into the Force, deeper than he had ever been, and there, he had found his focus, clear and sharp and patient in its wrathful calm. There he would stay, long enough for his body to recover, long enough for his temper to flare, and it would begin once again, a cycle that repeated and repeated until the violence of his grief tempered and hardened into something cold and frightful. The first time he had reached the state of clear and focused fury that came from the deepest depths of the Dark Side, Sidious had contacted him, but he had ignored the call. He ignored the second one as well. The third call prompted him to remove himself from his place in the depths of the palace and venture to the top spire, where he promptly destroyed the holotable through which he would communicate with his Master, beginning his destructive wrath once again, but this time, from the top down.

Obi-Wan now sat in the dark, his holodisc in his hand and playing back his final conversation with Quinlan, the recording stored in temporary memory and was quickly saved before the data could be dumped. He lost count of how many times he watched it. So many that he had committed the words, the expressions, the gestures to memory. Each time he watched, it hurt more, the pain acting as a forge to temper and strengthen his hatred and anger. He didn't have the energy for anymore outward expressions of anger, and without the means to leave Mustafar, he turned his hatred inwards, allowing it to center and focus him, allowing the Dark Side to awaken and wrap around him in calm and patient rage, a soft promise of vengeance whispered in his ear instead of the furious roar for blood. It reminded him of what he had always known. There were things, _so many things_ , that were worse than death.

Death was too good for Anakin Skywalker. Death was far, far too easy, too simple, too painless. Perhaps keeping Skywalker alive and suffering would be a detriment to the galaxy as well as to the fallen Jedi, but Kenobi didn't care. If Skywalker's eternal torment would be one shared by the galaxy, then so be it. He needed to suffer, because Obi-Wan was suffering, because he _deserved it_. For Quinlan Vos, who he had murdered. For Satine Kryze and their son, who he hadn't been responsible for directly, but it was his fault anyway. For the parents he never knew, nor cared for, but they had been slaughtered anyway simply for sharing his blood. Even for Asajj Ventress, which surprised even him to realize how sharp her death stung as well. They had been close once, after all, and she was dear to Quinlan, even when he wanted to crush the very life out of her. He supposed he should mourn Ahsoka as well, though her body wasn't found on the ship. She still existed in his visions, so he supposed she was still alive, though in the throes of his own grief, it didn't feel like it. Obi-Wan knew what it was like to lose a Master. She may as well be dead. Death was kinder.

Death would have been kinder for him as well. He was far past the point of acceptable losses. The war didn't matter anymore, and it was lost anyway, and he had half a mind to pull Cody and Barriss and Grievous and Boba from the frontlines and send them to live in obscurity in the Mandalorian territory, though he knew that wouldn't work. Skywalker was proving to be relentless in his attacks on everything he cared for. He would find them, and they would be dead too. The only thing to do was to keep them close where he could protect them all. Of course, he'd have to kill Cody first for leaving him stranded.

The only solution was Skywalker's destruction, and while it would be extremely rewarding to rip the man apart, he knew that his death or his prolonged, eternal suffering would do nothing to heal him, would do nothing to fix the problems he now faced. None of Kenobi's problems could just be _fixed_ , there was no simple solution, and dealing with Anakin in the most brutal way possible was simply administering a treatment for symptoms indicative of a larger problem. It was no cure. There _was_ no cure for what ailed him. Still, his grief could be pushed to the side, his pain forgotten in favor of pure, clear rage as he sat there in the dark and thought of all that could be done to ruin the man that had murdered Quinlan.

The large doors creaked open, the metal groaning as the mechanics and hydraulics strained against the melted metal and the shredded ribbons of the twisted durasteel, and light flooded the room, Kenobi hissing in rage and shutting his eyes, burying his face in the crook of his elbow. Yoda roared his displeasure as well, his large eyes shutting against the offending light, but he lacked the energy to physically do anything about his irritation. The door groaned closed again at the violent discomfort of the beings within, enclosing the room in darkness once again, but the interior lighting was switched on, the light dim, but enough to cast the grim skeptical of the large, cavernous room in clear view. The footsteps echoed, slow and methodical and drawing closer and closer, and Kenobi's eyes flew open and narrowed in rage at the man that approached.

" _Get away from me_!" Obi-Wan snarled, his voice rough and raw from what felt like days and days of screaming and misuse. The footsteps stopped, but the man didn't back away.

"You don't scare me, sir," Cody said, firmly, his voice unwavering and assured. He looked around the room at the broken instrumentation, the dead bodies, the glowing mess of recent lightsaber strikes that covered the walls, and then he focused on Kenobi. The man dangerous, more so than he had ever been, much more than when he had been gripped in madness and wanted to burn the galaxy. This was the opposite of the unpredictable, blazing danger of insanity. This was cold, hard calculation, a surface calm that hid a dragon just beneath the surface, which he felt a moment later when the air snapped to a freezing chill that burned his lungs and a tight, unyielding grasp closed around his neck. The Sith hadn't moved, hadn't done a thing, and Cody fell to his knees with a silent command.

"You stole my ships," Kenobi said, soft and menacing, but otherwise not moving from his place. He didn't need to move to kill, the Dark Side would do it for him. "You kept me from my revenge, Skywalker could be _dead_ by now if it weren't for _you_. _You_! You _dare_ try to control me? What right have you to dictate what I do!" Cody looked back at him, eyes defiant and afraid, challenging the Sith, and it only made him more angry. "Nothing will stand in my way, Cody. Not even you. You're going to die for this."

"Oh, stop it, no I'm not," the clone said, his voice strained under the tight grasp, but otherwise untouched by fear or panic or any other emotion, save for mild annoyance, deep concern and...sympathy? Kenobi drew back slightly, his grip loosening. The emotion seemed foreign to him. "You won't kill me, sir, I'm all you have left," Cody gasped when the tight hold relaxed, and Obi-Wan stared at him for a long moment before the clone's logic asserted itself, and he let him go with a frustrated hiss.

" _Shut the lights off_!" the Sith snarled, shutting his eyes and turning his head away from the other man. "It burns, it _hurts_ , I can't see in it."

"It burns because you've been crying, my Lord," Cody said softly, rising and crossing the short distance to sit before the scoffing, offended man.

"I have _not_ been crying!" he snapped, his anger rising again for just a moment before it instantly cooled when Cody reached out and touched his face, his thumb running over his cheek. "I am a Lord of the Sith, we _don't_ cry!"

Cody smiled gently as he looked at the red, bloodshot eyes of the man before him, the dark circles under his eyes, and wiped his finger over tear stained cheeks. "Whatever you say, sir. Have you been sleeping?"

"I don't need sleep, I am-"

"One with the Force, I know," Cody groaned. "You know, I don't think the Force can _actually_ sustain you." Obi-Wan opened his mouth to protest, but Cody quickly cut in with, "No sleep, from the look of you, no food...you don't happen to have a sudden compulsion to _burn it all_ , do you?" Kenobi shook his head, and Cody sighed in relief. It had been a real concern that this would push the Sith Lord into a permanent state of insanity, and he had only just recovered from madness long enough to begin to resemble himself again. A final push back into the flames he saw everywhere would consume him, of this, Cody was certain, and he had feared that exactly that had happened when Kenobi got the news and rage gripped him in violent, destructive storm. But...it seemed he was just grief-stricken and angry, and without another way to express the powerful emotions, he had lashed out at _everything_. It was...understandable.

"How long has it been?" Kenobi asked softly.

"...five days, sir."

"You took my ship," the Sith Lord said, accusing and angry, but the hoarse tremor of his voice lessened the threat. "You took _all_ my ships."

"I had to, my Lord," Cody said firmly. "To do your work. I needed them."

" _I needed them_!" Kenobi shouted, his hand swiftly reaching out and wrapping around the clone's neck. Cody didn't seem bothered. "I needed them to hunt down Skywalker, he needs to pay for what he's done!"

"I _agree_ , sir," Cody soothed, prying the strong fingers from his neck. "Which is why I left you here. You are grieving, you are angry, and I couldn't have you doing something _stupid_." His anger rose again, but the clone's finger sharply jabbed against his chest. " _You_ said you wanted Skywalker angry. You said you wanted to take everything from him so he would be _out of his mind_ with hatred for you. _You said_ that you would rather deal with a powerful, unbalanced Sith Lord than one that was calm and centered, and he's doing to you what you want to do to him."

" _Quinlan_ -"

"Will be _avenged_ , my Lord," Cody slowly stressed, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder. "But not like this, not when you're angry. You would run off to challenge him, you would take his bait, and you would _die_."

"Do you _really_ think so little of me?" Obi-Wan snapped, and the clone bowed his head.

"No, my Lord, I don't. But if you are unbalanced and angry, you're going to make mistakes, and there's no guarantee that you would come back. But if you're centered and focused..." The clone whistled. "I can't think of anyone that could beat you, especially not some rabid dog." He shrugged carelessly, a small smirk on his lips as he watched the Sith Lord's brow furrow in focus as he considered everything. "So I took your ships to keep you here, so you could be angry and unbalanced where you can't hurt yourself."

"...you should have asked," the Sith grumbled, and Cody smiled, helped the man to his feet, and slowly started to lead him out of the room.

"Apologies, my Lord. I couldn't have you ruining our plans when they're so close to complete." He covered Kenobi's eyes when the door opened, the Sith Lord hissing in pain as the light filtered in. "So, what we're going to do is this. We're going to handle our grief like _normal_ people by drinking ourselves into oblivion, and when we're through, we're going to focus and prepare ourselves for Skywalker. We have a plan, and it's ready to execute. We can't waste it."

Kenobi nodded, squinting against the light as they made their way through the palace. "...you said you were doing my work." Cody nodded and drew up to his full height, chest puffed in pride. "What work?"

"Removing the twins and their incubator from here, for a start. And judging by how many bodies are scattered around the palace, _well_..." Kenobi frowned, but didn't respond. It was...a good call on the part of his observant commander. He had only recently finished repairing the damage to Padmé's mind and body, had just brought her to Mustafar so he could keep an attentive eye on her while he worked, and while the twins were no less hidden in the Force, they had relaxed considerably, the fear still present, but no longer at the forefront of their developing minds. It wouldn't do to wreck the will of the Force in a mindless rage. "I also brought Shaak Ti." He paused. "That was for me, not for you."

"Where did you take them?" Kenobi asked softly, the two heading into the elevator that would bring him to his rooms. _Those_ weren't damaged. At least. He didn't think...

"Raxus. It's a more defendable position. Skywalker's going to have a harder time getting there, and when you find out his wife is gone, he's going to be _pissed._ " Cody grinned when the smallest hint of approval flitted across the Sith Lord's face. "Everything in line for your revenge, sir. You just need to say the word, and we will execute."

"Everything?" The elevator hissed open, and they stepped out, quickly opening the doors to the Sith's rooms, and they locked themselves inside.

"Everything," Cody affirmed, grabbing two bottles of Mandallian Narcolethe and tossing one on to the bed next to the Sith. The stuff wasn't _good_ , but it was extremely potent, and if severe intoxication was the point, as it was now, it got the job done quickly. "My men," he started quietly as he cracked open his bottle before sitting beside Kenobi, "have infiltrated Skywalker's company and have selected a target for the experiment. They're saying that his men are questioning his behavior, and it's causing them some undue mental strain since they are programmed to follow Jedi orders." He scoffed. "Barriss finished the impulse charge that you started, and we tested it on three clones we captured with the same effect. It triggers the biochip, sir."

Obi-Wan drank long from the bottle, ignoring the burning in his lungs and throat as it went down. "What's Skywalker doing these days, where is he?"

"Colstev, sir. Chasing Ahsoka Tano." A bitter, angry look passed over the Sith's face, and with a deep, dangerous growl, he threw back the bottle and drained the rest of its contents. "Seems the girl got away, and Skywalker seems to think she has something _very_ important."

"...Quinlan said he had proof of what happened on Stewjon," Obi-Wan said, snatching the bottle out of Cody's hand and starting at that one too. The clone rolled his eyes, got up, and grabbed two more bottles. "Perhaps he gave it to her." Obi-Wan looked at the bottle he held, his mind already hazing with the effects of the strong liquor, and he frowned and thrust the bottle back at Cody, his mind racing furiously as he quickly cleared the effects of the alcohol from his mind. "Skywalker may have executed this plan, but something about all of this feels... _off_."

"You think?" Kenobi nodded and closed his eyes.

"When Sidious was getting concerned about Ventress' powers, he ordered Dooku to kill her. He didn't want Tyranus thinking the Master could be challenged, and the first step toward an apprentice becoming the Master is taking an apprentice of their own. It's always been this way." He took the bottle back from Cody and drank deeply from it. "He couldn't turn me against Quinlan, I think he knew that, but he has a tool now at his disposal that could do the job for him."

"And Skywalker is after you, so it was only a matter of time," Cody said, laying a hand over Obi-Wan's when he saw the man tremble. "I think this plan looked a lot like the work of Admiral Tarkin. The man's a hunter, and they walked into a trap."

"Sidious," Obi-Wan whispered, "Tarkin, and Skywalker. That is a dangerous team." He absently drank from the bottle as he thought. "Our plan targets both Skywalker and Sidious, and without Quinlan's part, I believe turning the Jedi against Skywalker will be difficult." Kenobi drummed his fingers against his leg, slowly working the pieces around in his mind. He had plans, yes, but Sidious worked and prepared for every eventuality. He was truly a master of manipulation. Regardless of the outcome, he would find some way of pulling out on top. "We have a way to bring Skywalker back to Coruscant, and we have a way of making Sidious _very_ nervous, but without proof of what Skywalker has become, and with the Jedi too blind to see it, there's nothing we can do to turn them against him."

"...can we at least deprive him of his allies?" Cody asked softly, and Kenobi nodded.

"I believe so. At the very least, I can deprive him of his little bitch of an Admiral."

Cody grinned widely. "I've been waiting to face off against him."

"At the very least, the great hunter will be a _fantastic_ lure." He drank again, this time surrendering to the effects of the alcohol. With his plan solidly in place, his wrath and focus sharp, his hatred making him strong, there was little he could do until he was ready, and he would be very, _very_ soon. He'd have to move somewhat quickly if he were to save and recover Ahsoka Tano. "In the morning," he said softly, his crisp accent beginning to become slightly slurred, "we'll go to Raxus to check on the twins. They should be born soon, yes?"

"Her idiot droid places her at eight months, so I suspect so." With the alcohol dulling his senses, the grief Kenobi felt was less, and though everything still hurt, he couldn't help but be a bit pleased with himself that he had managed to protect the twins and their mother thus far. It had been easy enough to do from the comfort of Raxus. Running a war wasn't too difficult with good help, Dooku complained too much. "I've been fielding your calls as well," Cody groaned as he leaned back against the pillows and watched the Sith finish another bottle. "Your Master called. He seemed _very_ eager to speak with you."

"Disregard that, I'll speak to him when I'm ready."

"Got a call you won't disregard," he said softly, smirking when the Sith's tired, hazy eyes focused on him. " _Master Yoda_."

Obi-Wan shot up, his eyes instantly clearing, and he stared at the clone in disbelief. "And you didn't think that should be the _first thing you told me_?!" Cody threw his hands up in the air in immediate surrender.

"I had to make sure you weren't _out of your mind insane_. Could you imagine going to meet with the Grandmaster of the Jedi Order and sputtering _lunacy_ at him? Every plan you've ever made would be ruined."

Kenobi growled and put a hand to his head. He drank far, _far_ too much. Oblivion was the point, and he was certainly headed there, but when faced with a meeting with _Yoda_...

"Where and when?" he mumbled, groaning as he got off the bed and stumbled, barely catching himself, and Cody rushed to help.

"Whenever you like," the clone sais as he slung the Sith's arm over his shoulder. "He said he's fighting on Kashyyyk, but he's well supported and will leave at anytime. The place," he said, grinning, "is Dagobah."

" _Dagobah_!" Kenobi gasped, stumbling in his shock, but he was caught by the clone. "Dagobah's Confederacy territory, what in the Sith hells is he thinking?"

"Don't know. You can ask him when we get there. Shall I give him a call?"

Cody took the irritated, muttered cursing as a yes.

* * *

Dagobah, as it so happened, wasn't very far from Mustafar, but the planets couldn't have been more different. Mustafar was _fire_ , hot and harsh and soaked in the Dark Side. Dagobah was... _wet_. And murky and cold and nothing but swamps and so pure, so strong in the Force that it physically hurt him to be here. That evil little _wretch_ did that on purpose. He hated it here. He was pretty sure there wasn't a more hateful place in the entire galaxy.

Yoda was there when he arrived, the little creature sitting in calm and peaceful meditation upon a rock in the swamp. Kenobi frowned when he looked down at the ground, his legs nearly knee deep in water and mud. He'd need to throw out his clothes. There would be no getting this filth out of them. He didn't dare draw any closer. The light here was overwhelming, and it weakened him. If this was a trap, it was a damn good one, but he sensed that it was unlikely. This was _Yoda_ , pinnacle of the Jedi Order, and as feeble a thing as that was, the Jedi was not to be underestimated. Kenobi's chest tightened. Since his fall to the Dark Side, he had always been uneasy around Yoda. Kenobi had personally seen what the Jedi could do when they went together to a Temple of the Dark Side on Dathomir, and the Grandmaster had effortlessly kept a powerful Sith spirit away without so much as raising his hand. Yoda had nothing to fear from the Dark Side, and he certainly had nothing to fear from Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Sidious, however, was another matter entirely.

"Unsure, I was, if you would come, Obi-Wan," Yoda said, opening his eyes and looking at the Sith Lord that stood so far away, his arm crossed and his expression irritated, pained, and grief-stricken. Yoda frowned as he stood, and he leapt to solid ground, and with a roll of his eyes, Kenobi quietly followed.

"You catch me at a bad time, Jedi..." Kenobi said, his speech still slightly slurred, and Yoda looked at him with pity. "Drinking, I have been," Obi-Wan said in a mocking voice, but the Jedi brushed it off.

"Sorry, I am, for your loss," Yoda rasped, his voice filled with sadness, and Obi-Wan felt himself tremble. He wasn't prepared to deal with this. "For _all_ our loss. A fine man, Quinlan Vos was."

"Oh no, you don't get to speak to me about Quin!" Kenobi shouted, the echoing of his voice causing the trees to erupt with the beating of frantic wings as a hundred avians left their nests. "Not when you Jedi allow his murderer to run free!"

"Know you what happened on the _Enigma_ , do you?" Yoda asked, and Kenobi could feel new hatred harden within him.

"... _no_."

Yoda folded his hands within his robes. "Slain was Plo Koon and Asajj Ventress as well. By Quinlan Vos, Skywalker says."

"Of course he does..." He was beginning to wonder why he had come here. There was no way the Jedi would believe a Sith Lord over the precious star of the Jedi Order. He was too drunk to handle this. "Of course, he says I slaughtered the people of Stewjon as well, but I had no business in that mess." He glared down at Yoda and found his features scrunched up in concentration.

"Expressed concerns, Luminara did, about Anakin Skywalker," Yoda said softly. "After _you_ , she talked to." He frowned deeply and clutched his stick. "Believe her, I do." He looked up at the Sith curiously. "Spoke of Qui-Gon Jinn, she did. Lives, does he?" Obi-Wan sucked in a sharp breath and held it.

"No," he said slowly. "But he's not dead either."

" _Yoda_." Obi-Wan hissed in irritation at the sound of Qui-Gon's voice, and it took him a moment to realize that the tiny Master's ears had perked up, his big eyes appearing even wider, and the origin of the voice wasn't inside his head, but all around them. They were both silent, deathly so, as slowly, the Force seemed to converge, amassing in a bright pull of light, and moments later, Qui-Gon Jinn appeared before them, his body transparent and hazy, a light blue, nearly white manifestation of the deceased Jedi Master. Yoda clutched his chest and staggered back, but Kenobi just rolled his eyes.

"Kriffing hell, I am _so drunk_."

"Losing my mind, I am," Yoda said softly, shaking his head, but he couldn't keep the smile off his features. "Really you, it is."

"You picked a _fine time_ to figure your shit out, Qui-Gon!" Kenobi snapped, reeling on the Force ghost, but the old Master just chuckled.

" _It's an easy thing to do here, the Force is so strong_."

"How?" Yoda asked softly, shaking his head in disbelief. "Possible, this has been in the past, but lost, the technique was."

Qui-Gon smiled sadly. " _Let's just say that I was bought extra time to complete training I started long ago. I am one with the Force. I should be able to communicate with you, with anyone sensitive to the Force from anywhere, but...the practice of my studies is far different from than simply learning. There has been something of a learning curve_."

Yoda hobbled closer to the apparition. "See the future, can you?" Qui-Gon's face dropped considerably.

" _Where I exist, there is no future, no past, no time. Only the present_." Qui-Gon braced himself for the question he knew would follow.

"Know you, who the Sith Master is?"

"Qui-Gon..." Kenobi growled in warning, and the ghost sighed in resignation.

" _My talent_ ," Qui-Gon said softly, _"has never been in foresight, but in following the Force to stay in the moment_." He looked over the diminutive Jedi Master carefully. _"I have seen the Master, yes, but I can't tell you anything that Obi-Wan cannot. He knows his Master, knows his plans, and what's more, feels the pull of the future. Exposing him now could lead to more ruin than if it was carefully planned_." Yoda began to object, but Qui-Gon put up a placating hand. " _If you can't trust Obi-Wan now, it's truly over for the Jedi._ "

Slowly, Yoda's gaze shifted from Qui-Gon to the Sith Lord, and Obi-Wan hissed in irritation when the Grandmaster said nothing at all. "It's already over for the Jedi," Kenobi said, the slur in his voice gone and replaced with a cold, biting tone.

"The identity of your Master, I must know," Yoda implored, hobbling closer to Kenobi as the man sneered and backed away, shaking his head. "Defeat him, we can. Together."

"Oh, _stop it_ , no you can't!" Kenobi snapped, and the Master withdrew slightly, a frown on his face as he listened. "Together, yeah, _maybe_ we'd have a chance, but Sidious won't be alone, he has _Anakin Skywalker_." Kenobi shook his head. "Alone, I may be able to kill my Master, but not now, not when he's so on guard, so on edge, _so close_ to executing the Sith revenge against the Jedi. _Together_ , you and I may have stood a chance, but with Skywalker at his side?" Kenobi laughed bitterly. "I'm good, Yoda, but I'm not that good."

"Underestimate, you do, the power of the light," Yoda said firmly. "Prevail, the Jedi can. Tell me, Obi-Wan, and against your Master, the Jedi will stand."

"Will they?" Kenobi asked bitterly. "Would they really, knowing that you got this information from a Lord of the Sith?" He thrust an angry finger at Qui-Gon. "Would they believe you if you told them you got the information from the _Force ghost_ of Qui-Gon Jinn?" Kenobi crossed his arms over his chest and watched Yoda's face fall. He was right, and the Jedi knew it. "Your Order is fractured, as was my Master's plan. Your Council lays in tatters. You know what this looks like. The leader of the Jedi Order, conspiring with the leader of the Separatists to take down the Republic. Any attack on him now would condemn the Jedi as traitors."

Silently, Yoda sat, his feet clasped together before him, his big eyes closed, his presence calm, but forlorn. After a moment, he looked up at the Sith. "Believe me, the Council will. Fight against this, we can."

" _No you can't_!" Obi-Wan shouted, his temper flaring, but it was contained, constricted by the oppressive pureness of the Force in this place, and his agitation rose. He felt like he would crawl out of his skin of it could unleash the thrashing Dark Side within him. "You have _lost_ , Yoda! The Jedi are finished! You lost this war long before the war even began! You Jedi are diminished _shells_ of your former selves! There was a time when the Jedi were _remarkable_ , transcendent in their power, when being able to manifest after death wasn't some unheard of, lost art like it is now! Kriffing hell, you can't even _sense_ the Dark Side when it's right beneath you, how can you expect to defeat it!"

Yoda frowned, his wrinkled features drawn in distress and acceptance. "Diminished, the Jedi have been, yes," he admitted, though saying so seemed to pain him, weigh heavy on him, and Kenobi could sense his confusion, his lack of understanding, and it was clear that the Master had been struggling with this for some time. "But _why_ , I know not. Sensed your fall, Obi-Wan, we could not. Neither sensed Dooku's fall, could we. So certain, are you, that Skywalker is Sith?"

"If he isn't now, he will be soon, my Master has had his eyes on him for quite some time now." Kenobi sneered, his anger rising again, but this time, toward Darth Sidious. He should have seen this coming. "He is Sith in action, in any case. His massacre on Stewjon proves that."

"But evidence, you have not."

" _No, I don't have evidence_!" Obi-Wan shouted, and this time, the Dark Side broke through its constraints and rose up, roaring and _furious_ , the power causing the surrounding trees to violently bend, the water in the swamps spraying up in large waves. Even Qui-Gon's presence wavered, as if he would be blown away like mist on the wind. "I sent Quinlan Vos to _get_ that evidence! And _Anakin Skywalker_ hunted him down and _slaughtered him_!" He took out the holodisc from the folds of his robe and threw it at the Jedi Master. "There you go, Jedi filth. Our last conversation is recorded on that, look at it _if it pleases you_." And he strode away. He couldn't bear to hear it again, not when he knew he'd never see Vos anymore. He shouted toward the ship for Cody to bring him another bottle. The pain needed to be dulled _now_. It wouldn't do to show this Jedi anymore weakness than he already had.

Yoda watched the Sith Lord leave, and when the furiously blowing winds of the Force had died down, he opened the holodisc and played the recording, listening intently and gasping softly when Plo Koon's face appeared, the Kel Dor Master speaking amiably with the Sith Lord. The Jedi had _believed_ the Sith Lord's innocence, had _seen_ the evidence that proved it, and was willing to go and speak with him _immediately_. There had been witnesses, survivors of the attack that had seen what had happened, and could confirm that Kenobi wasn't involved. But more importantly, _Ahsoka_ was there, she had seen the evidence as well, and she had gone with them. Yoda didn't know how Asajj Ventress figured into all of this, but what really mattered was that Ahsoka Tano, former Jedi Padawan, was not among the dead. She knew the truth, and she was _missing_.

" _He's right, you know_ ," Qui-Gon said softly, and Yoda looked over to the Sith Lord, sitting on a rock with a bottle clutched tightly in one fist and his head resting against the shoulder of a clone in armor of black and red, the colors of the Shadow Legion, once the 212th Battalion that served under Quinlan Vos. The Grandmaster frowned. So many things were interconnected, so many things flowed seamlessly together, all guided by the will of the Force. " _The Force flows toward darkness, it favors the Sith. For so long, the Force kept pushing me toward him. I suppose that's why._ " Qui-Gon sighed heavily. " _The Jedi have lost their way, my friend. The Sith aren't the answer, but even the Dark Side has its part to play in the balance the Force strives for._ "

The Grandmaster softly grunted his agreement. "Such pain in him, I sense. Lost so much, he has. Feels deeply, he does, or such grief, he would not feel." Yoda smiled softly, his ears lowering as he relaxed. "Love and friendship, this pain comes from. Darkness, that is not. Work with this, I can." Clutching his stick tighter, Yoda hobbled over to where the Sith Lord sat with his commander, and when the clone saw the tiny Jedi, he jumped up from his place to stand before the Sith, a hand on his blaster and his chest puffed in challenge. Yoda stopped, eyed the clone, and smiled softly. The man was no threat, he was fiercely protective.

"Believe you, I do, Obi-Wan," Yoda said, holding up the holodisc and using the Force to float the treasured possession over to the Sith Lord. Kenobi reached out and took it, handling it with extreme caution, as if the slightest movement would break it. "Nothing, Skywalker said, about Ahsoka Tano." He gripped his stick tight and tapped it against the ground. "Find her, we must."

Obi-Wan put a hand on Cody's shoulder and nudged him to the side, observing the tiny Jedi before him. He reached out with the Force and slowly, _cautiously_ touched at Yoda's consciousness and found him wide open, his defenses lowered and at complete ease. As always, Yoda had nothing to fear from the Dark Side, the power of the Force protecting him and keeping his mind too bright for any creature of the dark to draw too close to without becoming severely weakened. It went both ways, of course, but not here, not on Dagobah. He wasn't the blinding brilliance that Qui-Gon was, but Kenobi had to squint to look at him, and even then, couldn't see what was in his mind. What he _felt_ , though, was compassion, mercy, understanding, _sympathy_. And it _hurt_.

"I've sent troops to Colstev, where we believed she escaped to," he said softly. "Skywalker's there looking for her, so I've been told. He won't find her, and he won't be there long."

"A plan, you have?" Yoda asked, and the Sith Lord simply nodded. "How know you that found her, Skywalker hasn't?" A slow, sad smirk came to Kenobi's face.

"Ahsoka Tano was trained by Quinlan Vos. If she doesn't want to be found, she won't be."

"If know where Skywalker is," Yoda said, "why have _you_ not gone? Revenge you seek, yes?"

"... _yes_ ," Obi-Wan hissed, his voice shaking with far too many emotions. "But I don't go into fights if I don't know I can win. My trap for Skywalker is set. I'll be springing it soon enough." His jaw clenched and he closed his eyes, the face of his enemy coming into clear view, and he _seethed_. "I don't know what happened on the _Enigma_ ," Kenobi said softly, "but Skywalker walked in and murdered _three_ highly trained Force sensitives. He's focused and he's centered, and that makes him extremely dangerous. I'm going to knock him off-balance, and then I'll be dealing with him. We can't attack my Master until Skywalker is out of the way, and you Jedi can't do _any_ of this. Our revenge is a thousand years in the making. You no longer have the strength to defeat us."

"Diminished, the Jedi are," Yoda softly admitted as he pointed his stick at Kenobi. " _Why_."

Obi-Wan looked down at the diminutive Jedi and felt him... _calm_. Centered. Determined. No doubt Yoda was seeking a way to save his coveted Order, but it was too late. It had been too late for a very long time. When the order was given, the Jedi would be dead, Yoda included, and Kenobi would be at Sidious' side, so...

_No, wait_. Kenobi opened his eyes and stared far off into the distance, the clarity afforded to him by the Force seeming to cut through the careful web that his Master had spun. He was the leader of the Separatists. _How_ was he supposed to be integrated into the Empire when it would rise from the defeat of the Confederacy? New cold gripped him. Sidious may have been backing Skywalker this whole time, may have simply been waiting for the chance to turn him, bring him to the Sith, and destroy his old apprentice, leaving the cunning Master with a new, powerful apprentice that still had _much_ to learn, who was far more easy to control than Lumis. He looked back at Yoda. The creature may be unable to beat Sidious alone, but together, when the time was right, when Anakin Skywalker was out of the way, it could be done.

"The Jedi Temple," he began slowly, "was built on top of an ancient Sith shrine as a testament to the triumph of the light over the dark." A proud, satisfied smirk came across his face. "For a thousand years, the darkness of that place has _infected_ you, weakened you, and now..." He shrugged, satisfaction washing over him as he watched fear spread across the Master's face. "You are nothing." He grinned, the Dark Side within him keening in satisfaction as it fed off the Jedi's fear. "Do you understand now? _Your_ Temple is _our_ Temple. You are finished. All you can do now is hang on long enough to kill the Sith Lord that did it."

"Hopeless, is it?" Yoda asked, not defeated, but curious.

"...no. Not hopeless." Kenobi took a deep breath. "If we can get Skywalker out of the way, if we can undermine his strength by disturbing his balance, than we can kill Sidious. Not before."

"Serious, the accusations against Skywalker are," Yoda said softly. "Investigate this, I must." He gripped his stick and nodded resolutely. "No proof, is there. Your word against Skywalker's, it will be. But powerful is the influence of Plo Koon," he said, pointing to Kenobi's holodisc. "An investigation of Anakin Skywalker, I will demand. Restricted to Coruscant, he will be."

Obi-Wan breathed a sigh of relief. "That may buy me the time I need to set the rest of my plans in motion. Just remember, Yoda, if you follow Skywalker, it will lead you right back to my Master. Be cautious that you don't follow too close. The Jedi can't beat him, not anymore."

Yoda watched as the Sith slid off the rock and told the clone to ready the ship. The meeting was done, at least for now, and the Jedi came out of it with a tentative alliance with a Sith Lord and the knowledge of just how powerless the Jedi have become. "Go wrong, this may," he said softly. "And quickly."

"...yeah, it might." He pointed at the tiny Jedi. " _Don't engage my Master_. The slightest misstep, and we will lose the small window of opportunity we have to kill him. He's careful, and he's cautious, and it's _very_ likely we're playing into his hand, even now."

Yoda inclined his head and smiled at the Sith. "May the Force be with you, Obi-Wan Kenobi." The Sith didn't respond. He just turned and walked toward the ship, and Yoda couldn't shake the deep sense of foreboding he felt, as if he were trapped in a net, and the harder he struggled, the more entangled he became.

"Saved from the Dark Side, he can never be," Yoda said softly as Qui-Gon came to stand beside him, "but Obi-Wan, he still is."

" _He won't be for long if this keeps up_ ," Qui-God said sadly. " _He has lost too much, too quickly, and it's destroying him. Asajj Ventress, Satine Kryze, his son, Quinlan Vos...if he loses much more, he's libel to break_."

Yoda looked up at the Force spirit beside him and couldn't help but smile. "Allow that to happen, we cannot."

" _It's not over yet_ ," Qui-Gon said softly, watching as Kenobi's ship flew away. " _Perhaps the Order will not survive this, but the Jedi may_."

"Too strong, the Sith Master is." Yoda frowned as he softly growled. "Too weak, the Jedi have become."

" _So long as there are Jedi in the galaxy, we haven't lost. I'll teach you what I know, my old friend_ ," Qui-Gon said. " _You'll need all the extra strength you can get._ "

* * *

They returned to Raxus in silence. Obi-Wan was through speaking, and he felt the end drawing very, very near. A month, perhaps, at the very latest, and Sidious would be ready to end the war. With any luck, Yoda would pull through and get Skywalker grounded, which was much better than drawing the irascible fallen Jedi to him, as he intended. Oh, sure, he would still set that particular trap in the event that Sidious had a contingency, but with any luck, Skywalker would be trapped on Coruscant with no wife and no Jedi support, and would most certainly draw Sidious' attention. Kenobi didn't want his Master looking his way when the time came, he wanted him focused on trying to contain his new pet, which Obi-Wan knew would be impossible. After all, _he_ had been difficult to contain when he first fell to darkness.

Finding Ahsoka Tano was paramount for turning not just the Jedi, but the people of the Republic against Skywalker, and for as careful as Sidious was, that was certain to give even him pause. He'd have to choose very, _very_ carefully about who his apprentice moving forward would be, and that doubt could only benefit Darth Lumis. For now, he'd done all he could. All that was left to do was wait. He wouldn't be baited by Skywalker, as Quinlan's death was meant to do. He'd have revenge for him soon enough, and when it was finally executed, it would be _beautiful_ , a litany of pain and suffering so exquisite that Obi-Wan could hardly stand it. The visions had taken one new meaning, and while before he had been nervous, apprehensive about the face in flames, now he looked upon it with excitement and sinister glee. Skywalker would burn, and he was going to sit back and watch when he did.

When they landed on Raxus, Kenobi silently strode through the palace towards his rooms, and quietly slipped in to find Padmé sleeping in his bed. She was an important piece in his plans, of course, the one thing that Anakin Skywalker seemed to revolve around, and now it was gone. He didn't know it yet, but when he did, it would be the beginning of the end for Skywalker. Soon. _Soon_.

He quietly slipped into bed, and the movement was enough to wake the girl. She groaned as she sat up, a hand on her positively enormous stomach, and gently brushed the Sith Lord's cheek, tentative and nervous, as though she was unsure what she would be met with. "Cody told me about Quinlan." Obi-Wan's entire body tensed as grief gripped him. All his anger was channeled toward Anakin Skywalker, and now, when he thought of his friend, all he felt was sorrow, deep and raw and eternal. "Obi-Wan, I am _so sorry_ , I-"

" _Hush_ ," Kenobi hissed, grabbing hold of her shoulder and easing her back down to lay beside him, which she quickly and almost gratefully complied. "I can't talk about him." Padmé nodded her understanding, nuzzled in close to him, and said nothing more, and a moment later, the exhausted woman was fast asleep, her hand gently resting on her lover's chest, but sleep would not take Obi-Wan. It hadn't since Quinlan died, and it wouldn't for some time to come.

He gently ran his hand down her arm, pale in color and long free of the bruises that had previously covered her. It had taken some time to repair her mind, but with enough patience and gentle coaxing, the layers of fear in the Force that surrounded her had been peeled away, and once he was in, it had been simple. The twins still lay hidden, of course, the closer they came to birth, the more adept at concealing themselves they became, though occasionally, if he was very lucky, he'd catch the slightest glimpse of them peeking out from behind cover, observing their surroundings, and swiftly retreating back into hiding.

He ran his hand over Padmé's stomach, his eyes closed as he tried to touch the twins with the Force, but quickly gave up. There was not enough calm, not enough peace, too much grief and anger to soothe the children. He lay there for a long while, his hand absently stroking the woman's stomach, and as he slipped into his meditations, Obi-Wan felt _warmth_ , comfort and sympathy reach out and embrace him, his fingers held in tiny little grasps, and the weight of all he had lost came down upon him, and through the flood of grief and anger and torment, the tiny hands never let go of him.


	111. Good Soldiers Follow Orders

It had felt wrong to Captain Rex from the very beginning. He didn't want to question General Skywalker's order, but something about taking an entire company of the 501st elite soldiers down to the surface of rocky Colstev in search of one little girl seemed... _off_. And this wasn't just one girl, this was _Ahsoka Tano_ , a former Jedi Padawan that he had served with on several occasions. Skywalker had been upset, _devastated_ when he found out that the girl had left the Jedi, and when Rex had seen her after a battle working with the Mandalorians to secure the borders of a peaceful civilian village, he had been overjoyed to see her not just well, but _happy_ to be doing some real good. So when General Skywalker returned from his attack on the _Enigma_ with none of the clones he left with and demanded they send their best to Colstev to hunt for _Ahsoka_ , Rex had some concerns.

Not that he voiced them. _Nobody_ wanted to be the next Shadow Legion, and Skywalker had become even more zealous in his hunt for Separatist commanders since the Battle of Coruscant. With Dooku's death and the end of the war just out of reach, Skywalker had become relentless, which was fine by Rex. The war needed to be brought to a swift end, and Skywalker's ruthlessness was proving to be very effective. But Rex couldn't believe that _Ahsoka_ was a Separatist...

They had been at it for days, and the combined efforts of Skywalker and Tarkin had put them on the trail of the cunning Togruta several times, but she continued to elude them, and the longer they stayed at the task, the harder it was for Rex. The appearance of the droid army on the sixth day of their search made things easier, though. _This_ was what he had been made for. Destroying droids was an easy thing to do, even when the droids were as advanced as these ones were, and Anakin Skywalker tore through them like a furious storm. He had Ahsoka's scent once again, and he was not going to lose it again. This time, the girl would be found. Thousands of escape pods and all the rocky caves that Colstev had to offer wouldn't be enough to keep the girl from Anakin's focused rage.

Rex ducked behind one of the escape pods for cover, his clone brother Fives at his side as the air was filled with the burning, acrid smell of plasma bolts as they shot through the air. This particular wave of droids was relentless, and even General Skywalker and Admiral Tarkin had to take cover behind a rock formation nearby, Tarkin's swift, sharp hand movements conveying the changing plan to the raptly attentive Skywalker. The General pointed to Rex and held his hand up, and the clone nudged his companion and waited for Skywalker's signal to follow him. Beside him, Fives groaned, which was...highly unusual.

"Hey," Rex said softly. "You alright?"

"Y-yeah," the clone stammered, his hand to his helmet as he shook his head. "I just don't...feel like myself."

" _What_ does that even mean!" Rex cried. He had _no_ idea what to do with that. Perhaps he was just strained and stressed, as they all had been. Skywalker had been pushing them hard since they hit the surface, and they hadn't let up for a moment since the hunt began. It was taking its toll on everyone, it seemed, not just Rex. Skywalker raised his hand higher, the signal to be at the ready, and Rex raised his blaster, ready to rush forward. He felt Fives look over at Skywalker as well, his blaster raised.

" _Jedi_..." The growl was soft, quiet, _feral_ , but Rex had heard it, he was _sure_ of it, and was about to say something when Skywalker indicated forward, and both he and the Admiral sprinted out of their cover. Rex drove an elbow into Fives' side, and the two clones rushed out of their cover, running to catch up to their commanders, and a moment later, the four of them were leading the charge on the front lines.

Droids fell by the hundreds as Skywalker's lightsaber bit through them, supported by the heavy fire of his soldiers, but they were outnumbered nearly five to one, and one Jedi, no matter how talented, couldn't make up the difference. Their quick and vicious assault gained them some ground, though, pushing them forward far enough to get to a narrowing of the rock formations around them, a strategic point that Tarkin said must be taken if the fight was to be won. When the droids fell back to regroup, Anakin quickly set to using the Force to move several escape pods from their places of impact and set them between the large, stone outcroppings to serve as cover.

"We are _wasting_ our time!" Anakin snarled as he dropped behind their wall of cover, eyes closed as he listened to the sounds of the rapidly approaching battle droids.

"We'll get her," Tarkin said calmly, craning his neck to look over the wall. "Don't forget that she is injured. Each time we lose her, we pick up the trail faster than the time before." The Admiral hissed and ducked back below the cover. "They're sending in commando droids."

"Oh, _kriffing hell_!" Anakin snapped, jumping up on their cover and holding his lightsaber out in front of him. "Alright, look alive, boys, and hold this position." Rex and Fives climbed up next to the Jedi, kneeling beside him and firing at the droids while he covered them, batting away any shot that came to close and sending them hurling back at the droids. They got into a beautiful rhythm, the clones keeping the pressure on the advancing army, and the more the droids shot at the intensely focused Jedi, the more of them fell. They could hold this defendable position for as long as necessary. The droids weren't getting past, and they were falling so quickly under the suppressing fire in the narrowed valley. It would be over soon enough.

Occasionally, Fives would hesitate, stop for a moment to shake his head or bang on his helmet, groaning softly in what sounded to Rex like pain of fatigue or effort. It was...concerning, to be sure. Fives was steadfast and strong, a constant and faithful companion since the beginning of the war. He had never acted like this. _Ever_. Rex brushed it off, focusing instead on the fight at hand. They were coming in greater numbers now, more focused, more furious in their assault as the tactical droid that commanded them began working out their strategy and finding the best way to combat it. They would have to move soon, but Rex knew they would. Tarkin and Skywalker were always thinking ahead.

"Good soldiers follow orders..."

It was soft, monotone, almost as if it was chanted in some kind of trance, and Rex looked over just in time to see Fives raise his heavy blaster, take aim, and fire one shot right into Anakin Skywalker's side.

The force of the shot sent the shocked General falling sideways, and Rex dropped his weapon and caught the Jedi, swiftly bringing him behind cover as Tarkin grabbed hold of Fives and dropped him to the ground, a dozen of their fellow soldiers rushing in to detain their brother that had suddenly lost his senses and turned against their General. Tarkin kneeled beside Anakin, swiftly turning the groaning, gasping man over and examining the smoking, bleeding wound in his side, hissing when he saw how bad it was. The Admiral grabbed Rex's hands and put them over the wound and pressed down _hard_ , and Skywalker screamed in pain.

"Keep the pressure on, understand?" Tarkin tersely commanded to Rex, and the clone nodded, pressing down hard, but withdrew slightly when Anakin began writhing in pain. "No matter how badly he is hurting, Captain!" he snapped, and Rex nodded and did as he was told while Tarkin called for the men to secure the line and prepare for immediate evacuation. Clones rushed to do as the Admiral commanded, but Anakin's prosthetic hand grabbed at the rocky ground so hard, he left deep gouges in the stone beneath him.

"We are _not_ evacuating _!"_ he snarled, flinging Rex away with the Force and rising to shaky, unsteady legs, his hand extended and calling his lightsaber back to him. Tarkin glared and faced the General, his arms crossed over his chest.

"We are here," Tarkin calmly reminded him, "to chase a single little girl. Do not be undone in your obsession, Skywalker. If she's the threat you seem to think, she will surface again, but her life _isn't_ worth yours, General, and you _will_ die if you don't get emergency care _immediately_." Pain tore through Anakin, and he dropped to one knee, his teeth grit tightly as he glared at Fives, the clone looking dazed and confused.

" _Why_ ," the Jedi snarled, trying again to rise to his feet, but he was unable.

"That is the question, isn't it..." Tarkin muttered, leaning in toward the clone and observing him carefully, only looking away from his frantically darting eyes when he heard their shuttles arrive to take them back to the _Vigilance_. "We need to return to Coruscant. The clone needs to be turned over to the proper authorities for investigation."

"I am not going back to Coruscant!" Anakin shouted, his tension making blood seep through his fingers that were tightly covering the hole in his side. The Jedi began to sway on his feet from the rapid loss of blood. "He is _infected_ ," Skywalker spat. "Like Kenobi's clones, he has gotten to this one too! _Kill him_."

"Ignore that directive," Tarkin said cooly, and the clones that had raised their weapons to follow Skywalker's orders suddenly lowered them. "General Skywalker is injured and in no state for command. Load him onto the carrier and bring him directly to the med bay. He will get full medical attention when we reach Coruscant." Anakin began to protest, started to make for the Admiral that questioned him, and was immediately hit with a wave of dizziness that sent him stumbling back to be caught by Rex. There was blood, _lots_ of it, and when Anakin focused inwards, he found that the plasma bolt had ripped a tattered gash right through him. He had to fight with everything he had to stave off unconsciousness, and through the pain, he forgot about Ahsoka Tano as the clones brought him swiftly to the transport.

"What do we do with Fives, sir?" Rex asked, creeping closer to his friend and comrade and silently wondering what had happened.

"Keep him under supervision in the brig," Tarkin said slowly, measuredly, as if each word required careful selection. "The Chancellor will want to see this."

* * *

The nightmares were so real, so vivid, so terrifying that they had pushed through Anakin's medically induced coma and woke him prematurely. He could see Padmé before him, his little wife screaming and crying, her stomach full and round with the child she carried, and Obi-Wan Kenobi stood above her, his red blade in hand and his golden eyes resolute, resolved, blazing with focus. He could feel dry, oppressive heat surrounding him, could smell the sharp tang of burning plasma, his mouth filled with the acrid taste of ash, and the longer he looked at them, the more he could feel his fear grow, his skin crawling and burning as that fear turned to hateful wrath. He could stop this from happening. He was so close to Kenobi now. It wouldn't be long until the Sith Lord came for his revenge in a blaze of loathing, and Anakin would strike him down. That was all it took. One angry man, driven mad by grief, made powerful by hate but made weak by recklessness.

Anakin had thought that Kenobi would find him on Colstev. He was _certain_ of it. But when the droids attacked instead of the Shadow Legion, he knew Kenobi wasn't there. The man had an irrational hatred of droids and rarely, if ever, fought with them. Still, they needed to find Ahsoka Tano, so Skywalker had stayed, hoping the droids served as a diversion while Kenobi searched for the Togruta, but he felt that was unlikely. It was possible that she _wasn't_ Sith, but she still needed to die. She was a witness, a loose end, and not only had she seen what had happened, she may have learned what had happened on Stewjon as well. The Council would _never_ believe her, of course, not when her Master had died in service to a Sith Lord, not when she had claimed to feel the darkness as well. She was serving Obi-Wan as well. She _had_ to be. Why else would she have been on _Enigma_?

New fury rushed through him, his body tightening in the confines of the bacta tank, the slimy, viscous liquid vibrating under the power of the Force, the tank itself shaking and straining until it shattered, and Anakin fell to the floor in a rush of bacta and glass. He tore off the breathing apparatus and quickly checked his side, the wound badly scarred, but healed over, though he still felt discomfort when he moved, when he walked, when his stomach tightened. He snatched his robes, folded neatly in a pile on a counter and mercifully spared from the shower of bacta as the tank shattered, and dressed quickly, checking the instrumentation on the wall to find out how long he had been there, and how long he was _scheduled_ to be there. He had only arrived the night before, but wasn't scheduled to leave for another three days. Anakin scoffed. Twelve hours was more than enough, the wound was closed and he felt _fine_. The rest would heal on its own. He could deal with some discomfort, and he found that the pain made him angry, and the anger made him _strong_. This was nothing.

When he burst from the room, there were medical droids and personnel rushing about to attend to the mess he had made, and Anakin strode past them without a second glance. There was work to do, and he had no time to deal with any of this. He only slowed his pace when he saw Admiral Tarkin striding purposefully toward him, and he quickly fell into step beside the Jedi as they made their way through the hospital.

"Feeling better?" Tarkin asked, a thin smile on his lips, and Anakin nodded.

"I'm fine. What news is there of Fives? Do we know what happened?"

Tarkin became pensive, a hand held thoughtfully to his chin. "Not yet. Palpatine has sent him to a specialist on Kamino for inspection. Captain Rex accompanied him. When I last heard from him, he seemed concerned about something, but was not forthcoming as to why."

Anakin nodded. "I'll talk to him when he returns. If he's worried about something, he'll tell me." He quickened his pace. He needed to get out of that hospital. "We need to get back to work, be prepared to leave by this evening." The Admiral groaned his displeasure and rubbed his temple.

"General, we aren't scheduled to leave Coruscant until the end of the week. Your recovery was _supposed_ to last longer than one night, and the _Vigilance_ needs to undergo maintenance. We have been out for _months_." Tarkin drew to his confident full height when the Jedi glared at him. "I don't want to lose to Kenobi because he takes better care of his ships, I don't want to die because of a technicality. If you're correct, he will find us, and I don't want to be caught unprepared."

Anakin nodded curtly, but also grunted in irritation. He didn't want to be here long. The longer Kenobi lived, the more dangerous he became, the closer Skywalker's vision appeared, the louder Padmé's screams echoed in his mind. "Tomorrow morning, then," Anakin decided. He needed to see Padmé anyway, and spending the night with her wouldn't be a welcome relief from the tension he had been facing in his hunt for the Sith. The child would be born soon as well, and perhaps now, he'd be able to sense its parentage. He'd have another test done to be certain of that.

"Tomorrow morning..." Tarkin repeated with a sigh. "Fine, I'll have her finished by then. I'll clear the 501st from the ship and get the technicians started right away. Also, General," he said, handing a datapad to the Jedi, "the High Council has requested that you report in immediately. It sounded important."

Anakin hissed in irritation when he looked at the missive and thrust the datapad back at the Admiral. "I'll see them before we leave in the morning," he snarled. " _Maybe_. If you need me, I'll be seeing my wife."

"Don't do anything stupid, General," Tarkin quietly cautioned. "General Windu already doesn't like you."

"I don't care what General Windu thinks," Anakin growled. "They don't deploy me anyway, the Chancellor does, and with Master Plo Koon now suspected of working with the Separatists, it's become _very_ difficult to trust them. Who knows how deep this treason goes."

"I only ask that you not forget your duty," Tarkin said, the pair walking through the sliding doors of the hospital and out into the morning sun. "I'm going to oversee work on the _Vigilance_. Do let me know if you need anything."

"Will do, my friend." The two men each gave the other a small, polite bow, and they went their separate ways. Anakin strode through the city streets at a leisurely pace, partially because he had time to spare, and partly because it hurt to walk. He didn't feel _injured_ , the vital wounds had been healed, but the muscle that had been burned and shredded had yet to repair. His destination was the galactic Senate, the large, domed structure visible between the tall buildings of the city. It was early, and the Senate would be in session, which meant Padmé would be there. As he drew closer, he could feel his need and his longing grow. It had been far too long since he had seen his wife, and his duties had kept him so busy, so _focused_ that he didn't realize how badly he ached for her. He would need to kill Kenobi quickly. He was going to be a father soon, and he wanted the war to be over before then.

As suspected, the Senate _was_ in session, and he watched the proceedings from one of the upper balconies. They agreed on very little, as usual, but what they all reached consensus on was the necessity of General Grievous' death. So long as that heap of scrap metal was around, there was someone to lead the Separatist's droid army, and so long as they could fight, they would. With Dooku and Grievous gone, the Confederacy had _nothing_. Anakin knew, of course, that it wasn't over until Kenobi was dead. The Sith Lord was far too smart to be held back by Grievous' death. He smirked in satisfaction when his hand drifted to the lightsaber of Quinlan Vos, which hung clipped to his belt opposite his own. Perhaps Kenobi was done for. After all, the death of his lover had driven him mad. The death of his best friend could very well have pushed him so far into madness that there was no return. A madman could be dangerous, yes, but it was nothing that Anakin couldn't handle.

When the Senate recessed for lunch, Anakin rushed down to the pod for Naboo's delegation and tightly grasped his wife in his arms, the little woman gasping in surprise, and he smiled, held her at arm's length and...

It wasn't Padmé. Anakin frowned, looked quickly around the surrounding area, but he knew he wouldn't find her. This was one of her handmaidens, a trained bodyguard and decoy, selected in aprt because of their striking resemblance to the Queen. They would fool most people, but they couldn't fool Anakin. He knew his wife from more than just her looks and mannerisms. He could feel her presence in the Force, and while this woman - Sabé, Eirtaé, _something_ , they all looked so alike - was very close to lovely Padmé, it _wasn't_ her. Worry instantly gripped him, cold and biting and it took everything within him to calm his racing heart and follow the handmaiden to Padmé's office, where she was... _convinced_ to tell Anakin of his wife's whereabouts. The girl didn't know, but told him that she had taken a leave of absence due to her pregnancy, and with that, Anakin flew from the Senate and sprinted toward 500 Republica some blocks away.

Her apartment was empty, not just of the woman, but of her clothing, some of her valuable possessions, her _droid_ , all of it, _gone_ , her decoy's things in their place. Each passing moment brought a growing sense of unease, each second his anxiety grew, the feeling that something was terribly wrong gnawing at the back of his mind, her screams ringing loudly in his ears. Anakin tried contacting her on her private comlink, at the Palace of Naboo, at the ancestral Naberrie Estate where she had grown up. He had interrogated the security officers at 500 Republica, but they insisted that she wasn't missing at all, fooled completely by her perfect decoy. He had managed to get inside the security room as well and frantically scanned all the security footage from her apartments, starting from that morning and going back as far as possible, but there was _nothing_ within the past month.

A deeper search into the archived footage found him going back _months_ , to when he had last seen her, and with a snarl of fury, he started going forwards once again, pouring over every little detail in hopes of finding something, _anything_ that could give him a hint to where she had disappeared to. The distance of the camera made distinguishing between Padmé and her handmaidens _impossible_ , and he was left with the task of discovering when this change took place. After hours of searching, he finally found it, just after he had left her. The recording seemed to skip, so imperceptible it could barely be seen, but it was there, and on closer inspection, the shadows marking the position of the sun in the sky had shifted, from night light to late morning. There was footage _missing_.

Panic seized him, and Anakin bolted from the security room, fear gripping him tightly and the sounds of her screams amplifying in his ears and within his head. She was _gone_ , and there was only one explanation. He ignored the pain in his body as he ran full speed through the city, the streets bathed in moonlight, the entire day spent in frantic search for his wife, and did not stop until he reached the Jedi Temple. He needed Jedi for this. With Padmé gone, with the Senator dedicated to peace _kidnaped_ by Separatists, the Jedi would certainly heed his call to action and unite to go find her. They _had_ to.

With the fall of Pong Krell, of Barriss Offee, of Quinlan Vos, there was beginning to be some question in the Senate about the Jedi Order's dedication to the Republic. This could clear them. They could prove their intentions by helping him save Padmé. They had little other choice, and Anakin needed Jedi to help him with Kenobi, not clones. Not when Obi-Wan could so easily turn them against the Republic, according to Aayla Secura. He could do the same with Jedi as well, but not so easily with a Master. He needed the _Masters_!

By the time he burst into the Council Chamber, Anakin was panting heavily, a slight wheeze in his breathing caused by the pain in his side, his lungs burning from the exertion. Of all the Masters on the Council, only Mace Windu sat in attendance, and he looked at Skywalker with a mix of surprise, pity and suspicion. " _Padmé_..." Anakin wheezed. " _Padmé_..."

Mace steepled his fingers and looked at the Jedi Knight, patiently waiting for the boy to catch his breath. Yoda had been _very_ vague when they had last spoken, had insisted the less he knew about where he was and what he was doing, the safer he would be, but the Grandmaster had left Mace with a set of directives. Anakin Skywalker was to be grounded, pending an investigation of not just the massacre of Stewjon, but of the tragic events aboard the _Enigma_ as well. Skywalker was a loose, if effective cannon, and he was thriving in the war, but the boy was still reckless and emotional, even more so after Qui-Gon's death. Yoda had also mentioned that the Sith Lord was not only very, _very_ close, but dangerous beyond measure, and the Jedi were to make no attempt to discover who he is until the Grandmaster returned. With _help_ , he said. But Skywalker needed to be grounded, that much was clear, and Mace was not going to deny him that.

Several members of the Council had suspected that something had been... _off_ about the events of Stewjon, including the departed Master Plo Koon, who had left for Stewjon to investigate on his own. He never returned. Instead, Anakin had contacted the Council to grimly report that Quinlan Vos had captured and killed the Jedi Master, along with Asajj Ventress, and that seemed to settle the matter for most. But for Yoda and for Luminara, something seemed _very_ wrong, and when Yoda had contacted Mace, the Korun Master didn't question the Grandmaster's orders. There was nothing out of the ordinary about grounding a Jedi while an investigation was taking place, especially not when dealing with the death of a Master as well respected as Plo Koon.

" _Padmé's gone_!" Anakin wheezed. "She's gone, Master Windu, she's been _abducted_!"

"...no she hasn't," Windu said firmly. "Luminara met with her just this afternoon."

" _No_ , that's her handmaiden!" the frantic Jedi shouted. "I know Padmé when I see her and that's not her!" Mace arched an eyebrow, but said nothing, and Anakin's temper flared as his panic hit new heights with each second wasted. "Kenobi has taken her, I know he has!"

"And you think a handmaiden would calmly stand in for her if she's been _abducted_?" Master Windu asked. "I understand those girls are bodyguards. If Senator Amidala was kidnaped. I think the entire city would know about it."

" _I know this was Kenobi_!" he shouted. "He's targeted her before, this is his work! Maybe he's _mind controlling_ her again, maybe she convinced Padme to tell her bodyguards that she was going on a leave of absence because of the baby and-"

"Kriffing hell, Anakin, is that what they told you?" Mace sighed, resting his cheek on his hand. "That's perfectly legitimate, the last time I saw the girl, she looked uncomfortably large." He observed the Knight closely as the man began to pace the room like a caged animal. "This wouldn't have anything to do with your... _personal_ connection to the Senator, would it? From the way you're speaking, you sound _very_ familiar with her." Anakin clamped his jaw down tight and said nothing, only glared at the weary Master. "You wouldn't happen to know who the father of her child is, would you?"

" _How should I know_?!" Skywalker shouted, resuming his pacing. "She spread her legs for Obi-Wan Kenobi, so _maybe its his_!"

"Or yours," Mace said, matter of fact and _bored_ , observing the Jedi Knight as he reddened considerably, and Windu rolled his eyes as Skywalker attempted to mutter a feeble denouncement. But his raging emotions kept him from being able to conceal the truth. "Come now, Anakin, let's have it," Mace said calmly. "Kenobi's been messing with you for a _very_ long time. What use would he have for Padmé Amidala if she weren't somehow connected to you?"

"She's in danger, Mace!" Anakin said frantically. "What she is to me isn't important right now, by doing nothing, we are condemning a Senator of the Republic and her child! We can't let this stand!"

Master Windu groaned loudly and covered his eyes with his hand. "I'll have Luminara investigate."

"Forget an investigation!" Skywalker snarled. "We need to act quickly! Send me with a team of Masters and we'll track down this Sith Lord and kill him, once and for all! All are problems will be ended, and the time is _now_. All of us, all at once. He can't beat us all!"

"He _has_ beaten us all..." Mace droned. "All except Yoda, and he's fighting on Kashyyyk. We are _all_ fighting. Master Billaba's on Kaller, Secura's on Mygeeto-"

" _Together_ , Mace!" Anakin stressed, his panic reaching new levels as the screams seemed to get louder. "He's going to kill her, I know it! I _see it_!"

"I think your emotions are leading you astray, Anakin," Mace said calmly, and the furious knight was about to respond when lights on the armrest of Mace's chair lit up, indicating a call from one of the Star Destroyers under Jedi command. The blue lights of the hologram lit up and displayed the information of the call, and Anakin's anger faded away. The call was coming from his ship.

"That's Tarkin," Anakin muttered, frowning when he checked his personal com and found no missed calls. "He must need me for something, maybe there's something wrong with the ship..."

Mace nodded and answered the call, the hologram flickering to life to display the caller in the center of the room, and Anakin fell back into one of the empty chairs, both he and Mace leaning forward with jaws slack and hearts pounding out of their chest as they looked at the smug, cruel face of Obi-Wan.

"Hello, _Skywalker_ ," Kenobi drawled slowly, each syllable punctuated with his clipped accent driving a spike of dread deeper into Anakin's heart. "Lovely ship you have." He smiled brightly, a devious light shining in his eyes. "I think I'll keep it."

" _This is the end of you, Kenobi_!" Anakin shouted, rage overtaking him. "You've made a huge mistake coming here, you will _never_ get away! _Mace_!" Skywalker snapped. "Inform every ship in the fleet that the _Vigilance_ is in the hands of Kenobi, it's to be destroyed on sight!" Anakin grinned maniacally as Mace quickly did as he was told, and an irritated sneer came to Obi-Wan's face. "You will _never_ escape the Core Worlds, Kenobi, the entire Republic Army knows my ship!"

Obi-Wan looked over his shoulder. "Cody, has the ship been disconnected from the Republic's identification channels?"

A grinning clone appeared behind the Sith Lord. "Done, sir, we are off the grid."

"Oh." Kenobi looked back at Skywalker and smiled. "Well, that was easy. And..." he said, leaning over to look at something out of range of the holographic receiver. "We've been out of the Core Worlds for over an hour." He laughed brightly, and Anakin cringed. "I think I'll have to rename her, the _Vigilance_ is a poor name for a ship that was so easily stolen." Skywalker sputtered in rage, unable to formulate sentences at all.

"What do you want, Kenobi?" Mace asked calmly, despite his racing heart.

"I want to talk to Skywalker," Obi-Wan said coldly. "For two things. First, to offer my sympathies for your injury and to wish you a swift recovery." A devious smirk crossed his lips when Skywalker became very still, his face frozen in shock as he thought, then understood the implication, and he began shaking in rage. "Really, it's a terrible thing. These clones are _so_ unreliable..."

" _You did this_!" Skywalker spat, and Kenobi laid a hand on his chest and looked confused, though the slight smile on his lips showed that he was mocking the Jedi.

"Me? No, I didn't. I couldn't. I didn't get down to Colstev until _after_ you left. We've taken the planet, of course. Does it please you to know that _we_ can't find Ahsoka Tano either?"

"Ahsoka?" Mace muttered, looking at Anakin. "Is _that_ why you were on Colstev?" Anakin said nothing, just focused on the image of the Sith Lord and channeled all his fury toward him, as if the anger could burn away his image. "Why would Ahsoka be on Colstev, and why would _you_ be looking for her?"

"Apparently," Kenobi said softly, the sorrow in his voice clearly genuine, "Ahsoka was aboard the _Enigma_ when Skywalker attacked it." He looked down at the and took a few deep breaths. "I don't know what happened on the _Enigma_ , but it seems like little Lady Tano does, and it looks to me like _someone_ doesn't want her telling anybody. Now, I wonder why that is..."

Mace slowly looked over to Anakin, the Knight's face contorted with rage, his shoulders shaking with tension, and the Master could feel the racing of his heart through the Force. It seemed as though there was something to Yoda's suspicions. The Grandmaster was right. This required investigation. "Anakin..."

"She is _Sith_!" Skywalker spat. "Just like you, and just like that _filthy_ Master of hers, and the _only_ regret I had when I stabbed Quinlan Vos through the heart was that you weren't there to watch me do it!"

The gold eyes narrowed, and Kenobi's mask of amusement dropped away to reveal the cold, soulless expression underneath. "Which brings me to the _second_ thing I wanted to talk to you about," he said, his voice a flat, even monotone. "I want to make a trade."

" _Never_!" Anakin hissed. "Not for anything! Everything you have, _everything_ will be mine after I slay you!"

"Oh? I have some of your things in my possession, perhaps I should kill them before you find me." Anakin's rage immediately dropped away into fear so intense he couldn't breathe. He could just hear the screams, _only_ the screams. He had her. _He had her_!

"What trade?" Mace asked softly, his hands pressed together and his fingers to his lips.

"Allow me to show you," Kenobi drawled softly, whistling quickly and a moment later, the clone had returned, this time to throw Wilhuff Tarkin at the Sith Lord's feat, and Anakin's eyes widened. The man was gasping for breath and clearly in pain, his body covered in bruises and blood, and with a triumphant smirk, Obi-Wan knelt beside him and grabbed the man's hair tightly, lifting the struggling man's head off the ground so the Jedi could clearly see him. "My trade, Skywalker. Quinlan's lightsaber for your bitch Admiral."

"Tarkin," Anakin said, his voice quivering with tension and fear, pain gripping him as he watched his Admiral, his _friend_ suffer. Tarkin was a large part in formulating the plans against Kenobi, he _needed_ him. "I'm coming for you, alright? He _won't_ get away with this!"

"Won't I?" Obi-Wan asked, deadpan as he stood and lifted his hand, and Tarkin rose into the air, gasping and struggling against an invisible hold as he was choked. "Decline my trade, and I will give him back to you piece by piece, starting with his head. Consider this trade...an assembly fee. You give me the lightsaber, and you get your Admiral back in tact." His grip tightened, and Tarkin began struggling harder. "Come now, Skywalker, show me you have it."

Anakin growled deeply and tore the lightsaber from his belt and held it up, and a moment later, Tarkin was dropped to the ground, gasping and coughing and shaking with pain. Obi-Wan walked to stand before Skywalker, his eyes wide and pained and desperate, and the holographic hand reached out to touch it, but Anakin swiftly drew it away. The Sith's eyes flashed with untempered fury, and Anakin found himself dropping to one knee as he felt all his anger, all the darkness that stirred within him _disappear_ , leaving him feeling considerably weakened. In his raw, unguarded emotional state, all his power, all his strength fled from him like leaves caught in a powerful storm. And a moment later, the feeling was gone, his strength returned, and he quickly jumped to his feet, the impact making his still healing wound stab with sharp pain.

"What will it be, Skywalker?" Kenobi asked softly, and Anakin grit his teeth. Tarkin for a lightsaber was an easy trade, even if it was for _this_ lightsaber. He didn't need to actually make the trade anyway. For this exchange to happen, they would _have_ to meet. Anakin would kill him then.

"Fine," he choked, the word rising like bile in his throat and so much harder to say than he thought it would be.

"Excellent!" Kenobi said, a smile once again coming to his face. "I'll be in touch to give you instructions on when and where we will meet."

" _What_?!" Anakin shouted, getting as close as he could stomach to the Sith's hologram. "No, we make the exchange _now_."

"Now?" Kenobi laughed. "Oh no, I can't do it now, I'm _busy_. And I promised Cody I'd give him a fair chance to torture your little friend. It's only fair, given how ruthless he's been with me..." His rage grew, but it was completely without meaning. There was _nothing_ he could do if he wanted to save Tarkin. He was at the mercy of the Sith Lord, and he _hated it_. "Give me a few days and I'll be ready to trade. It'll also give me a chance to see what else of yours I have on this ship..." Kenobi gasped, his eyes lighting up, and a cruel smirk came to his lips. "Oh, I just thought of the _best name_ for my new ship!" Hands clasped behind his back, he leaned in toward Anakin and softly drawled, "You'll like it. I'll call her the _Amidala_."

All the anxiety, all the worry, all the fear he felt hit a new high, and just as he thought he would lunge at the Sith Lord in an attempt to strangle the hologram, Kenobi's image disappeared, and all he could hear was Padmé's screams. " _He has her_!" Anakin shouted at Mace, but the Jedi remained distant. "We need to go and we need to go _now_. We'll find him, and we'll kill him. He's _giving_ us his location, this is our chance!"

"No." Mace had barely whispered the word, but it may as well have been a scream to Anakin, cold and biting and cruel, but all he could do was stare. "We'll send another Jedi to make the trade," he said softly. "Luminara was his friend, she will go."

" _She won't kill him_!" he shouted. "She _sympathizes_ with that Sith monster! She is serving him, _I know she is_!"

"A man's life is at stake, Anakin!" Windu snapped back. "A life for an _object_ , and Kenobi has been more than fair these past few months. I won't have you put everyone at risk by being reckless, and what's more, you no longer have a ship, so it seems to me like you are grounded."

"... _grounded_?!" Anakin gasped. "I am the most successful Jedi in this war, I've had more victories than _anyone_! You can't ground me!"

"I can," Mace said firmly. "And I will. Your part in the fight aboard the _Enigma_ requires you to be at hand while we investigate, and based on... _new_ information, it seems like we have lots to investigate."

"I told you what happened!" Anakin gasped. "You would believe a _Sith Lord_ over me?!"

"Nobody was there, Anakin! Nobody alive but _you_ , and maybe Ahsoka Tano. Regardless of if she was there or not, it seems like we need to find her and ask. And before you say it, Anakin," the Master growled, holding his hand up toward the angry Knight when it seemed as though he would speak again, "Ahsoka has been working with Republic relief efforts since she left the Jedi, so _no_ , I don't believe she is Kenobi's pawn."

"You can't do this!" Anakin cried. " _Padmé_ -"

"Will be found and inquired about when Luminara makes the trade for Admiral Tarkin. You, Anakin Skywalker, are confined to Jedi business upon Coruscant while Plo Koon's death is under investigation."

Anakin's eyes narrowed, his hands balling into fists as he shook with rage. "You can't just indefinitely take me from the war, Master Windu," Anakin growled dangerously. "The Chancellor won't stand for it."

"I can," Mace said calmly. "And I will." The Jedi Master watched as Skywalker left the room, his stride long and wrathful, and in his wake, Mace Windu could feel the cold grip of the Dark Side.


	112. Vader

"I'd like for the baby to be born on Naboo," Padmé said softly, brushing her long, dark hair and smiling at the Sith Lord upon the floor where he had previously sat meditating, and now just sat. Five red and gold pyramids floated around his head, slowly spinning and opened, spilling the soft whispers of ancient words into the air. Three of these were his, their knowledge already absorbed, but the other two he had found that afternoon on Serenno, possessions of Dooku while he had been alive, and now that he lay dead, the other Sith considered them his. After all, he was the one that killed him. Everything that had belonged to Dooku, by right, was now his.

"Babies," Obi-Wan gently reminded, and the girl flushed deeply, her eyes cast to the floor and a radiant smile upon her lips. The news was still new to her. Visits to the physician had been few and far between, pertly out f a sense of privacy, but mostly, Obi-Wan assumed, to protect her husband from confirmation of the rumors that were bound to be making their way through the Senate. Not that scans would be able to tell her anything anyway. The twins distorted and disrupted every procedure that was done, which Kenobi found nothing if not amusing. Not yet out of the womb, and already using the Force to manipulate their environment. Training these children was going to be an absolute joy.

"Babies," Padmé repeated, absolutely glowing, watching the Sith Lord in admiration as he plucked one of the holocrons from the air and held it to float before him, his golden eyes dilating and he exhaled a trembling breath as a shiver ran through him. "I want them to be born on Naboo."

"Does it matter where they're born?" Obi-Wan whispered, his rapt attention drawn to the voice that smoothly washed over his mind. "I can't trust Skywalker to stay on Coruscant. He'll come looking for you, and Naboo is one of the first places he'll look for you. Cody says he's contacted the current Queen _and_ your family about your whereabouts. Naboo may not be safe."

"Is it less safe than anywhere else?" she asked softly, running her hand over the Sith's shoulder and looking out the wide windows at the forests of Serenno down the cliffs below. As soon as Kenobi had returned to Raxus with a new ship, he had relocated the woman to Serenno, the palace left quiet and abandoned since Dooku's death, though the arrangement was temporary. Now that Skywalker knew his wife was missing, Obi-Wan knew he'd stop at nothing to find her. _Nothing_ would keep this woman safe from Anakin Skywalker. _Nothing_ would save the children from their father's reach. The path was clear. For Satine, for Quinlan, for the children he would raise and for the one he never got to, Anakin Skywalker needed to be put in his place.

"No, I suppose not..." Kenobi mumbled, sighing softly at the feel of the whispers within him, the brilliant, perfect flow of the Dark Side as the ancient knowledge seeped within him, both things he knew and things he had never considered, all of it tempered in the depths of the darkness in which he sat. "I'm going to pull in a favor with Bo-Katan. I need someone to protect you while I am dealing with Sith Lords..." The hand on his shoulder trembled.

"...is there truly no saving Anakin?" she asked softly, and Kenobi's reply was immediate.

"You know as well as I there isn't. Not by me. Not by you."

"There must be some good in him," Padmé whispered. "There must be _something_ , there is, I _know_ there is."

"That changes nothing," Obi-Wan hissed, a quick gesture of his hand snapping the holocrons shut, and he grabbed them and gently put the glowing pyramids back into the bag he kept them in. "No amount of good can save a person from themselves if they don't believe they need to be saved, and I know better than most that the purest intentions can lead to darkness just as easily as something less noble. Perhaps more so."

Padmé frowned as she ran a lazy hand absently over the Sith's neck. "Well, there's good in _you_."

"Be that as it may, I am _not_ a good man. There is no saving me, I don't _want_ to be saved." His eyes were fixed blankly in front of him as he grabbed her hand and kissed the soft palm. "I fell to save the Jedi, I chose darkness to give me the power to destroy my enemies, and the Dark Side opened my eyes to the truth of what the Jedi have become. Skywalker is falling out of love for you, everything he does, _everything_ is to protect you from what he perceives to be evil influences, and he would massacre the innocent if it meant keeping you to himself." He released her hand when she felt her inhale sharply. "Why. Do you intend to go back?"

Padmé shook her head. "I can't," she whispered. "For the safety of my children, I _can't_. And I won't, not after all he's done..."

"He won't stop until I'm dead and he has you. You understand that, don't you?" Her full lips drew into a thin line, and the Senator nodded, stroking the Sith's hair as he closed his eyes and seemed to drift away from the conversation. "I think, Padmé," he whispered, his voice growing distant and flat as he lost himself in the Force, as he so often did, "that you just like bad men."

"Maybe so..." She stroked his bearded cheek as she looked down at him, his golden eyes dull and hazy, his mouth moving slightly as he silently spoke to himself in a language she knew that very few understood, and she smiled warmly when she felt his hand reach up to stroke her swollen belly, delighting in the rush of warmth that rushed through her at his touch. "What should we name them?" she asked, uncertain f he could even hear her. "A boy and a girl, you said, what should they be called?"

"Quinlan and Satine..." he whispered, a soft tremor running through him as he pulled himself back and focused on the present, and he winced, the names upon his lips causing him physical pain, and he shook his head. "No," he choked. "No, not those. I won't burden your children with the weight of those names." He growled in frustration and swiftly removed his hands from the touch of the children moving beneath the woman's skin. "No other names come to my mind, there _are_ no other names. You name them, they are yours."

"Luke and Leia," the woman said softly, watching Kenobi's face carefully to gauge his reaction, and she saw him draw back slightly, silently mouthing the names to himself before he nodded.

"It suits them, I think," Obi-Wan said, rising to his feet as the door open and Cody strode inside and swiftly saluted.

"Sir. You Master is calling you. _Again_." The Sith swiftly nodded, bent over to kiss the Senator, and he lingered just slightly longer than he intended.

"Time to face him, I suppose," the Sith muttered as he drew up and ran a hand through his hair to smooth it. "Cody, can you contact Bo-Katan and-"

"I already did it, sir," the clone said, hands clasped behind his back and rocking on his heels. "I was on Mandalore this morning and spoke to her. She's waiting in the dining hall."

"You're a man after my own heart, Cody," Kenobi said, smiling softly as he bowed to Padmé. "My lady, I strongly recommend that you get to know Bo-Katan. Can you find your way there?"

The Senator nodded, smiling softly, and the three of them left the room, Padmé heading in the opposite direction of Obi-Wan and Cody as they slowly made their way toward the study. They were silent for a moment, Obi-Wan focusing on the floor before him, but he could feel Cody looking sidelong at him, care and worry and concern pouring off the man. Kenobi didn't accept these emotions anymore. Compassion was for the weak, for those that feared the power of darkness that could only be brought by pain and grief and suffering, the fuel on which hatred and anger burned. But he accepted it from Cody, and briefly, he had felt the strength that came from sympathy through the twins. Through Luke and Leia.

"Mandalore?" Kenobi asked, and the clone turned his head toward the man, finally looking at him directly instead of sneaking glances.

"Precautions, sir," Cody said swiftly. "I thought you'd approve."

"Precautions for _what_."

Cody scoffed and rolled his eyes, almost as though he was offended that Kenobi even had to ask. "For your safety in the upcoming fight against Skywalker. You have assets you need to protect, so while I was on Mandalore, Bo-Katan and I had a little chat about _you_ , and we agreed that it would do you no favors to lose another child." Cody bit his lip and looked away, fearing he had been too sentimental for the hardened man. "Also, the Senator's safety is of paramount importance in your manipulations of the Skywalker brat."

"Why were you even _on_ Mandalore?" Kenobi asked, his voice dripping with disgust, the very thought of the planet making his skin crawl with revulsion, and Cody smiled sadly. Kenobi had _loved_ Mandalore once, and as their Shadow King, willing or not, he was of paramount importance to the people there. His absence weakened Mandalore. Bo-Katan was a strong warrior, but she just wasn't the political might of her sister. The Shadow King had been a rallying cry to many, and watching him turn his back on a people that needed him, a people that had, as so many Mandalorians had done, adopted him into their culture, was painful. Kenobi was Mandalorian, as far as they were concerned. Obi-Wan Kenobi needed a people, and the Sith didn't _have_ a people.

"I went to Mandalore," Cody said softly, stopping outside the door to the study where he would have to wait, "to protect you from Skywalker."

"Skywalker isn't _on_ Mandalore, Cody, he-"

"I went to move Satine's body," he said swiftly, surprising himself with how even his voice sounded when he was so sure it would tremble. Kenobi's expression hadn't changed from the now so familiar emotionlessness, but his eyes seemed to _burn_ , hatred and darkness with the promise of pain and murder and suffering for all those that his gaze fell upon. "To Kalevala," he said quickly. "Bo-Katan said Clan Kryze keeps a family tomb there. It isn't as _spectacular_ as the one for the Mand'alors in Sundari, but...well, it's quiet and it's _hidden_ , and I don't want Skywalker destroying you by desecrating her body."

Kenobi didn't say a word. He just leaned his arm against the door and pressed his forehead against it, his shoulder's shaking slightly, but Cody knew better than to touch him or say anything. Some things needed to be handled alone. Sometimes, the Sith Lord just needed to drown in the pain, dive so deep into it that it passed the point of pain. "What do you suppose he did with Quinlan's body?" Kenobi asked softly, his voice shaking with more emotions that Cody could put words to.

"I don't know, sir," the clone said softly. "When we swept the remains of the _Enigma_ , we couldn't find the bodies of the slain. Please, just don't...don't think about that."

He wouldn't now, but Obi-Wan tucked it away for later, yet something more he could draw pain from, and he felt relief wash over him in the knowledge that at least Satine was safe, a task that he didn't think he'd have the strength to carry out himself. This clone was a gift of pain management and damage control. Obi-Wan felt him through the Force, so like his millions of brothers but so, _so_ different, and knew that one day, he'd lose Cody too, his genetically enhanced body programmed to age at double the rate of normal humans. They were a pair, and had been for years. The man that aged too quickly, and the man that didn't age. Cody would grow old and die, Obi-Wan would lose him, and he would be alone.

But not today. And _not_ because of Anakin Skywalker.

"Thank you..." the Sith whispered, and he could feel modesty within the man. This wasn't a task to be thanked for. This was just his job. Dooku had asked once if Kenobi had the ability to direct the Force he drained from others into a body other than his own. He didn't know, but perhaps such a thing could be done with Cody. He'd have to experiment.

"Do you have a plan for your Master?" Cody asked, changing the topic to get his Master back on track, and after a moment of silence, the Sith pulled himself away from the door and faced the clone.

"I'm uncertain," he mumbled. "Dooku's holocrons have shown me that there is much I do not know, and Sidious has a _vast_ collection. My Master is more powerful than I realize, and certainly more powerful than he lets on. Sidious will need more time, and I don't plan on giving it to him. Skywalker is off-balance, and if ever there was a time he'd choose him over me, it's now. I need to wait for the right time to strike, and that will be easier to do at his side when he becomes complacent in the birth of his Empire."

"And...you think you can get him to end the war now?" Kenobi shrugged as he punched in the code into the door controls, and they hissed open.

"I don't know," he said softly. "We'll have to see." Kenobi stepped into the room, and it hissed closed behind him, leaving the man in darkness to contact Darth Sidious.

* * *

Palpatine stood in his office, his hands clutched tightly behind his back, and observed the glowing lights of Coruscant at night, the city just as bright, just as busy as it was during the day. Something was wrong with his apprentice. In all the years he had known him, all the time he had trained him up from broken Jedi to Nexus of the Dark Side, Darth Lumis had _always_ been available to him, had always answered his Master when he called. He was a good apprentice. He was better than good, and that was part of the problem. Lumis had been growing powerful, not more than he could deal with, but strong enough to become a concern, were his careful grip on the boy to slip at all. Given enough time, Lumis could rise to become a rival, were he not safely contained under the mantle of Apprentice.

Satine's death had been an annoyance. The child she bore was to be the culmination of the Sith, a boy that Sidious had planned to raise into the perfect apprentice, powerful in the Dark Side and beholden only to his Master, set to killing his father when Lumis became too difficult to handle. Satine would have been killed after she bore the child, of course, and he would make Lumis himself do it to complete his fall, to finally sever his last tie to Obi-Wan Kenobi. She had died prematurely, and perhaps it had been to his benefit, for Satine's death had been a gift to both Lumis and Sidious. For Lumis, he received power beyond his previous imagining, along with the will to wield it without remorse or restraint. For Sidious, he was given the means to control his apprentice through the flames of insanity that raged through the young man. As long as Lumis was mad, he could be controlled, and Sidious had no intention of allowing the boy to heal.

It became a delicate balance to manage Lumis' insanity, though not a difficult one to maintain. Once sparked, the fire was difficult to extinguish, and the boy launched himself into madness at the mere mention of Satine's name, at the slightest hint that he had failed to save the son he already loved, at the thought that he could never love again. Of course, too mad, and the man became a liability, too sane, and he was a power that Sidious could no longer control, but he had found the balance between the two, and he had kept Lumis there. For a time. After Lumis killed Dooku, a thing that Sidious was immensely pleased by, the boy had found his focus and his center as the madness fled, giving way to the clarity necessary to handle Tyranus' former position.

Sidious had thought the pressure would have made the madness worse, but Lumis was proving to be terribly resilient, and with focus came an independence that was not appreciated. The boy was actually rising to the occasion, proving himself to be a shockingly effective leader, and having proved himself to already be capable of managing an Empire, the need to control Lumis became even greater, and with his madness waning, with Sidious' control slipping, there was only one thing left to do.

Kill Quinlan Vos.

Yet another powerful thread to the stubborn Obi-Wan, Vos had joined with Lumis in the Dark Side, and they had become inseparable, to the point where Sidious had _correctly_ guessed that not only was this attachment drawing the young Sith away from his insanity, but Lumis was positioning the fallen Jedi to serve beside him as his own Apprentice, and _this_ could not be allowed. The only use the Kiffar former Jedi had for Sidious was as fuel to reignite Lumis' madness, but Sidious knew that his apprentice would never kill the man he called friend. Vos was all he had left, and when he was gone, all that would be left was the Dark Side and the Sith. All beings existed to serve the Sith, as allies, as tools, or as stones to be stepped upon, and Quinlan Vos had only ever been one thing.

Fortunately, Sidious had Anakin Skywalker to accomplish this task for him. The boy was soaked in the Dark Side, driven to it for his hatred for Kenobi, for his fear of losing his wife, out of grief for his fallen Master, and it had all worked out beautifully. Skywalker was every bit as magnificent as he had hoped, ruthless and without mercy, obsessive and possessive and would stop at nothing to hunt his target when he was angered. For every bit as cold and calculating as Lumis was, Anakin was equally hot-tempered and wild, a brutal, _powerful_ arm that lacked subtlety, but made up for it in the fear he inspired. Lumis had never been one to be feared, though those who were smart did fear him. Anakin Skywalker would be one that would openly invoke terror, and Sidious needed them both.

He needed Anakin to act as the face of the Dark Side, the physical manifestation of the might of the Empire. Swift and brutal and so, so powerful, Skywalker took the Force and bent it, shaped it, forced it to heed him, removed those who were meant to live, destroyed that which the Force protected. He needed Lumis to continue as he had been, a shadow operative for situations that needed a delicate hand, where gentle coaxing and a well placed touch of the Force was needed when terror would be a detriment. But most importantly, Lumis held the secret to immortality, and while he had _told_ his Master how it was done, Sidious had no success thus far. He had managed to get away from Coruscant for a short time and had attempted the technique, but he couldn't find the thread to unravel the Force in the creatures he had selected, the sentients dying, the Force fading from them before he could get a grasp on it. He'd need to watch Lumis to see how it was done. Perhaps it could only be accomplished by stealing the life from those in tune with the Force.

When Vos had died, Sidious had felt something stir the Dark Side, so deep that he could feel the currents in the depths begin to pull and shift, the swell of the water rising and disrupting even the calm, cold serene of the furthest reaches of darkness. Sidious thought it could be Anakin Skywalker, the boy reaching new heights of his power as the Dark Side roared and thrashed under his powerful grasp as he murdered three considerably powerful Force sensitives. It could also have been Darth Lumis, the boy sinking even deeper into darkness, the Dark Side itself holding him under the waters while he willingly drowned, the final push into power and madness from which he could not return. And still, Lumis had been ignoring him. It was possible he was lost within his insanity, sunk do deeply in the Force that he couldn't find any light to guide him back, but it was just as possible that Lumis now obsessively hunted Skywalker. All of this was troublesome, but not impossible.

Then the incident on Colstev happened.

The premature initiation of Order 66 was a potentially disastrous problem for Sidious. It wasn't that he wasn't ready to take the Republic as his own, because he was. What he was waiting for was the opportunity to get Skywalker and Lumis working _together_ instead of against the other, two vergences' in the Force that spun together, creating a mighty storm, instead of opposite, canceling the other out. He could do it, but he needed time, and if Order 66 needed to be executed prematurely, Sidious would have to force them to fight so that one could be slain and the other would rise as his one true Apprentice. Perhaps that is what was meant to be, two cyclones in the Force, always meant to fight, but never venture down the same path, but Sidious never bowed to the whims of the Force. _He_ commanded the Force, bent it to his will, and made it subservient to his will. He wanted them both. He _needed_ them both. And Darth Sidious always got what he wanted.

He looked over his shoulder when he heard the soft twang of power running through his holoprojector as it turned onm the lights in the room dimming as light poured from the middle of the office, and a moment later, Darth Lumis knelt before him, his head bowed and his eyes heavy lidded as they swiftly darted about without any aim, any focus, and Sidious sneered as he turned from the window to stand in the projection's field.

" _Where_ have you been?" he hissed, sharp and angry, and Lumis' shoulders shook, the man groaning softly at the Master's fury.

"Lost, Master..." Lumis muttered softly, and Sidious' rage slowly fell away when the boy whimpered, a soft, keening whine that carried with it all the pain and grief and loss that his apprentice had felt. Sidious stood before the hologram of his student, waiting patiently for him to look up at him, and found his eyes vacant and hollow and waiting to be filled with direction, meaning, the will of another to replace the soul he had lost. It was _perfect_.

"It was truly inspired work that Skywalker has been doing," Sidious said, slowly, stretching out each word, each pause as long as he could to watch anger and hate and violent intent twist Lumis' face, and then fade completely, cold and despondent, and Sidious could feel the apprentice embrace the pain and drink deep of the Dark Side, the rush of power lessening the grief that threatened to overcome him. "In one fell swoop, he corrected Tyranus' failure in killing his assassin, ended a powerful Jedi on the Council, and destroyed that would-be Sith Apprentice of yours." Lumis answered only with a pathetic whimper, bowing his head as he shivered. "Soon, he will come to our side, and then we shall see the rise of our Empire."

This time, Lumis looked up, his eyes blazing in their intensity as he focused on Sidious. "Master...you aren't planning on taking Skywalker as your apprentice, are you?" Sidious sneered in irritation, his withering glare making the kneeling man begin trembling again. _Good_. Lumis _should_ cower before his Master's displeasure.

"I will do as I wish, _Apprentice_ ," he sneered. "If I wish to rule the galaxy, I will, and if I want the living vergences' of the Force at my command, I shall have them, and you, _Lumis_ , will obey me when I say that you will put aside your petty grievance against Skywalker when I demand it of you." Sidious' eyes narrowed when Lumis looked up at him with a flash of defiance in his eyes. "Am I understood?"

"He _murdered_ Quinlan!" Lumis cried, and Sidious loomed over him, watching carefully as the fight, the anger, the _disobedience_ slowly faded from him, the Master's mere presence enough to cull the apprentice into subservience.

"All that means is Skywalker had the strength to do what _you_ could not," Sidious snarled, and Lumis hung his head, defeated, and slowly, softly began to laugh in his madness. "Quinlan Vos held you back, Lumis. It needed to be done. That you didn't do it was _your_ failure."

"...yes, Master..." A slow, pleased grin spread across Sidious' face. Lumis was compliant and could be controlled. All that was left was to bring Skywalker to the same state, and together, the entire galaxy would fall to Sith rule.

"We have a more pressing matter than dead Jedi," the Master growled. "A clone malfunctioned and it's programmed initiative was executed." He frowned deeply, searching the apprentice's face when he looked up toward the seething Sith master. "This single matter could have exposed us if the clone wasn't delivered directly to me, and if other clones malfunction as this one did, the entire plan of ours will be exposed." Sidious' eyes flashed in sudden anger. " _You_ didn't happen to have anything to do with this, did you, Lumis?" The man stared at him as though he didn't understand the words.

"...I've been lost," he gasped, a soft whimper escaping his throat as he grasped his head tightly between his hands. Sidious hissed in irritation as he watched Lumis softly mutter to himself. He was _hoping_ that this was the fault of a spiteful apprentice. It was a problem easily solved with a sharp, swift reprimand to a child that touched that which was not his. But if this was a simple malfunction, the matter was far more serious. It could have been an isolated incident, but if not, he'd be forced to execute the order prematurely, which was an irritation that would cost him either Skywalker or Lumis. It was an acceptable loss when measured against the completion of the Sith imperative and their final revenge against the Jedi.

"Is it truly a problem, Master?" Lumis asked softly, his breathing slowed into a state of calm control. "We are ready for the Empire to rise, why not just execute the order and be done with it?"

" _Patience_ ," Sidious hissed. "There is still work to be done, my apprentice. I need more time to secure the final stages of my plan. Can you extend the conflict a while longer?"

"Yes, Master," he said softly, bowing his head. "I won't fail you."

"See that you don't," the Master growled, and he used the Force to power off the holoprojector, leaving the room in dim lighting for a moment before the lights slowly illuminated the chamber. That would suffice, at least for now. There was nothing that could substitute a physical connection with his apprentice, but for now it appeared as though Lumis was capable. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, sunk into the Dark Side and found it...turbulent. _Disturbed_. Sidious' eyes flew open and narrowed. Something was still wrong, still unbalanced. Perhaps it had nothing to do with Lumis after all. Perhaps-

Sidious was pulled back quickly into himself, effortlessly slipping into the guise of Palpatine as one would step into a well-worn coat, and a moment later, Anakin Skywalker burst into the office, the locked doors forcibly torn open and the Dark Side ripping around him like a powerful wind, all fury and rage and fear with no control to speak of. Palpatine's eyes narrowed.

Or perhaps it had _everything_ to do with Lumis.

" _She's gone_!" Anakin shouted, his voice cracking in his frantic, panicked state. "She's gone, Padmé's gone, _he took her from me_!"

"Gone?" Palpatine murmured, not a little surprised. She had been in the Senate just that evening, being the pest she always had been. She was slightly off, yes, but pregnancy had altered the feel of Satine as well, and while Lumis had said the child wasn't Force sensitive, the strain of carrying a child _did_ alter a woman's body. Sidious sucked in a sharp, sudden breath, imperceptible to the unbalanced Jedi in his office when he realized that it was just as likely that this was one of Padmé's _extremely_ good body doubles, and not the actual woman herself. And if that was so...when had Lumis taken her? How had he been on Coruscant without his knowledge, how could he not have felt his apprentice nearby? And _why hadn't he been told_?

" _Gone_!" Anakin snarled, pacing the room quickly as if the motion would ease his tension, but it only served to make him more frantic. "She's gone, and the Jedi don't care! I've had visions of her death, visions _all the time_! Of _him_ , of _Kenobi_ killing her! It's happening, and nobody's helping me stop it! The Jedi are actively _preventing me_ from going! I can save her! _I can save her_!"

It was _bad_. There was too much fear in Anakin Skywalker, too much panic, a sense of helplessness that kept him unbalanced in the Force, the Dark Side ripping at him instead of bending before him as it had on Stewjon, as it had on _Enigma_. This fear could be turned into hatred and anger, which could in turn be used to fuel his power to new heights, but not now, not yet, not without training and focus, and it seemed that would not be regained without Padmé Amidala. And Lumis had _taken her_ , of this, Sidious was certain. Skywalker was correct in his assessment.

"Peace, Anakin," Palpatine said softly, calmly, but the quiet, subtle compulsion of the Force did nothing to ease the powerful young man. "We'll get her back. In the morning-"

" _How_! Anakin snarled, dangerous and angry and striding quickly to stand over the Chancellor, the old man quietly slipping into his seat and carefully observing the Jedi he looked to recruit. He would need more time than he thought to tame Anakin Skywalker, to make him receptive and amenable to working with Lumis. Still, it could be done. "How am I supposed to leave! The Jedi have grounded me! _Me_! Their greatest General, they are trying to _sabotage_ the war effort! And all because of _Kenobi!_ " He growled deeply, _savagely_ , like a feral animal that had been trapped and contained, and Sidious privately smiled. The time wasn't soon, it was _now_.

"You think the Jedi have been...influenced by this man? Palpatine asked in quiet surprise, and with a snarl of fury, Anakin began pacing the room.

"I _know_ they have been! They have talked about meeting with him, _working with him_ to bring peace! There can be no peace, no order, not while he lives! The Jedi are _traitors_ , and they would keep me from the war because _Kenobi_ made them doubt me, and _now_ I am under investigation for what happened on the _Enigma_ when I killed Kenobi's _filthy friend_!" His breathing suddenly became fast and labored, new anger flooding him and gripping him with panic, and Palpatine frowned. He was so unfocused, so _unbalanced_ , it threatened to ruin the masterpiece that he had worked so hard to create. He had to be reeled in and secured.

"The Jedi don't command the army, they serve in it," Palpatine said softly. "I'll send you for Padme."

" _In what_!" Anakin shouted, louder than before, his voice beginning to become raw from misuse. " _He stole my ship_! And he took _Tarkin_ with it!"

The feeling of unease that Sidious had been experiencing suddenly erupted into silent rage and simmering anger as the pieces fell into place. The abduction of Padme Amidala could have happened anytime between now and when Anakin was last on Coruscant a few months back, but Palpatine had met with Wilhuff Tarkin just the day before. Lumis had been here, and recently, not only in enough control to slip undetected past the Jedi, but with the wherewithal to target Anakin Skywalker specifically, and make of with one of the few things capable of sending the young, quickly falling Jedi teetering off-balance, his anger reaching new heights, but the fear keeping him from harnessing his true potential. It was a cold, calculated move, one that required careful planning and intense focus, a swift and clever mind working at its full potential not just to beat an opponent, but to undo them before they even had the chance to fight. This was not the mind of a madman, not the actions of one lost in the flames of insanity. This was focus, pure and cold and cruel, insidious and manipulative, and _exactly_ how he had trained the boy.

 _Lumis_ had _lied to him_.

His insanity, his submission, his dependence, all of it faked, and with that in mind, given that Skywalker was the target, it was extremely likely that the clone malfunction had been Lumis' doing as well. Sidious had never been so angry, nor so proud of his apprentice. He had become a real threat, and he needed to be brought back into line, and quickly. He found that time was no longer a luxury, and it was Lumis' doing.

"That _clever_ little bastard..." Palpatine snarled under his breath, his hands tightly grasping the armrests of his seat, and the air snapping with cold as the Force rushed to him, and with a gasp, Anakin fell to the ground, the Dark Side fleeing to aid the Sith and leaving the young Jedi with his fears and his panic and his paranoia, but deprived of the power to do anything with them. Blue eyes widened in sudden understanding, and slowly, he stood, a hand on his lightsaber.

" _You_ have the Force..." Anakin gasped, and the mask of old, fragile Palpatine fell away, leaving Skywalker looking at the glowering face of Darth Sidious.

"And my apprentice has overstepped his bounds, he's become a _threat_ ," Sidious spat, and despite the fear, Anakin didn't leave. He _couldn't_. The Jedi had been infected, _corrupted_ by Kenobi, and if Palpatine _was_ the Sith Master...

"You're Sidious," he whispered, and the Chancellor nodded his head. "You're the Master of the Sith, it's _you_!"

"And my apprentice has risen against me, it would seem, he needs to be brought back into line or destroyed." The Chancellor smiled as he watched fury and anger and hunger wash over the man, his hatred for Lumis consuming and driving his every action, his fear for Padmé leading him to do whatever it took to keep his vision from occurring, his mistrust of the Jedi keeping him with the Sith in the office instead of flying to the Council.

" _You_ would destroy Obi-Wan?" Anakin asked, breathless and yearning and desperate, and Sidious nodded.

"It may have come to that, yes." He stood and slowly walked to Skywalker, the man kneeling upon the ground and looking up at him, lost and alone and desperate for direction and understanding. Sidious extended a hand to the Jedi. "You are right about all of this. Obi-Wan, _Lumis_ , is controlling the Jedi. You are right to mistrust them. Join your strength to mine, Anakin, and I'll give you the strength you need to save Padmé and kill my apprentice." Without a second thought, Anakin reached out and clasped Palpatine's hand in his own, his body shaking and trembling with fear and anger and power as darkness rushed through him.

" _Help me_ ," he gasped. "Tell me what to do, _please_!"

"Embrace the Dark Side, Anakin. You already have, but you have been denying it, and it has made you weak and unfocused. Take it within you and let it's strength guide your actions." Anakin closed his eyes, and with a shivering breath, he took the darkness within him, the currents of the Force raging and swirling around him as he drank deep of the Dark Side, and he groaned in satisfaction as the power swelled within him.

"What do I do, Master?" Anakin asked softly, looking up at Sidious with eyes that were filled with adoration.

"Lumis still has allies, and you do not," Sidious growled. "Deprive him of them. Seek out General Grievous and destroy him." Anakin grinned wickedly and bowed his head.

"I'll get it done. I'll kill him, and after _that_ ," he growled, "I'll kill Obi-Wan and save Padmé, and the screaming will _stop_."

Sidious chuckled as he felt Anakin harness the rage within him. It was over. Anakin Skywalker was his. "Rise, Darth Vader," he said softly. "Go and do my bidding."


	113. War's End

Obi-Wan could see clearly the rugged, untamed wilderness of Eriadu's Carrion Plateau, could hear the call of birds, the cautious tramping of the native fauna, the careful prowling of the predators in search of prey, the howling of the veermok on the distant Carrion Spike, a rock formation so tall it could be seen towering over the trees of the dense forest. The thick, earthy smell of fallen leaves and loamy soil permeated the air, and crouched down in a thicket, a slugthrower rifle in hand, was a boy, brown of hair and blue of eye, no more than sixteen years of age, and it didn't take Obi-Wan a second look to know that the teen was the most dangerous creature out there, an apex predator among creatures much bigger, much faster, much _stronger_ than he. This child had tamed the wilderness, trained it, taught every creature, both benign and malicious, that he was the one to be feared. It was... _inspiring_ , really.

A soft groan echoed around him, one of both pain and protest, though both feelings were minimal at this point, and with a grin of triumph, Obi-Wan opened his eyes to stare into the dazed face and blank eyes of Skywalker's trusty Admiral, the man hanging by his wrists from restraints upon the wall in his dungeons on Mustafar, the man stripped from the waste up to give Cody a bigger canvas to work upon. For such a thin, pale, gaunt man, Tarkin had been remarkably resilient, and his childhood training had made him a dangerous predator, ruthless and uncompromising, willing to do brutal, awful things to make a point, which was why Sidious had taken an interest in him at such a young age.

Yet another cog in Palpatine's plans, Tarkin had been recruited even before Kenobi had turned to the Sith, and he had _never_ heard about the man. His Master had secrets within secrets, and it made him exceptionally dangerous. Obi-Wan was starting to realize that he'd have to untangle an entire web of deception and lies and manipulations in order to make defeating Sidious a reality. He was at a serious disadvantage against his Master, and it wasn't for lack of strength in the Dark Side. Obi-Wan felt that he may, in fact, share mastery of the Force with Darth Sidious, but an even contest couldn't be decided by skill or will or resolve. It would come down to who knew the other better, and in that, Kenobi was seriously outmatched. There was very little, if anything that Sidious didn't know about his apprentice, and Obi-Wan knew next to nothing in comparison. He needed time. Sidious would become comfortable, complacent in his Empire. After a time, after the Sith Empire was well established and stable, Obi-Wan would kill him, and it would be his turn to rule the Sith, the way the Force intended.

He could feel a change in the Force, a shifting of the Dark Side the night before, a stirring of the cool, calm waters in the depths where he sat in meditation so often. So powerful the pulse, it reached him even where he sat, not as a powerful wave, but as a gentle tug, a pull not of warning, but of _triumph_. Anakin Skywalker had fallen, had embraced the Dark Side, had been inducted within the Sith. He knew it the moment it happened, could feel the Force become stained black with the powerful pull of not one, but _two_ Dark Side vergences, could feel it struggling against this turn, and Obi-Wan knew what he must do, as he had always known. Sidious meant to keep them both, but this could not be, the Force would not allow it. The Master _had_ to choose, and to Kenobi, the choice was clear.

Anakin was a rabid dog, a child in the eyes of darkness, despite his considerable power. It would take years and years to work Anakin into a true apprentice, just as it had taken Obi-Wan time and pain and suffering to burnish him from broken Jedi into Sith masterpiece. Over ten years of loyal and faithful service could not be tossed away for a boy that had yet to truly understand the power of the Dark Side. For all his bluster and rage, for all his perceived losses and wrongs, Anakin Skywalker hadn't truly lost anything that he hadn't pushed away himself. He had lost his Master in Qui-Gon Jinn, yes, but the immortal Jedi had reached out to his student first and foremost, and Skywalker had shut him out so completely that even now, the spirit couldn't cut through to him. And he lost his mother, he supposed. Obi-Wan could give him that.

But that was exactly the trouble with Anakin. His needs, his darkness, his pull to the Dark Side was _selfish_. Obi-Wan had fell for a grander purpose. At first, he had embraced the Dark Side to save Qui-Gon Jinn, paid for his Master's life by giving himself over to darkness forever, and he had never looked back. The power was immense, swift and strong and obviously a requirement for defeating the Sith. As much as the Jedi stood opposed to the Dark Side, it was other Sith that were the true masters of killing Sith Lords, and Obi-Wan had rushed in headlong toward his calling. Until the Dark Side opened his eyes to the weakness of the Jedi, the mire of corruption and sloth that was the Galactic Republic, and he came to realize that the Sith weren't some creature of evil, they were _right_. The Code of the Sith spoke the truth that the Jedi Code never could, and it was through his new Code that he learned of passion, of victory, of _progress_ through strife, not the stagnation that came from peaceful resolution. The completion of the Sith imperative would not only purge the galaxy of the stagnation that came from the Jedi's imposed peace, but it would bring about progress through adversity. This was for the good of the galaxy.

But _Skywalker_ was selfish, a child throwing a temper tantrum because life wasn't fair, because he didn't get the girl, because the playground bully had taken his things. _Again_. This wasn't darkness, it was _pettiness_ , not the actions of a Sith Lord, but the uncontrolled rage of a child that discovered they were gifted and hadn't been given all that he believed he was owed. He had the benefit of the greatest teacher in the Jedi Order, and while Qui-Gon was a hard, difficult Master for Obi-Wan, he had been fair and judicious with precious little Anakin, and Skywalker had thanked the man by throwing away all he had been taught the moment things began to go very, _very_ poorly, the second that he thought he'd lose his precious possessions. It was _ungrateful_ , and it was offensive to think that _Darth Sidious_ could see a Sith in him. Perhaps the Master had become selfish as well. Perhaps he had always been, and Obi-Wan was only beginning to see it now.

He couldn't have both of them. The Force wouldn't allow it, and neither would Obi-Wan. No amount of trickery or manipulation could change that. Sidious would be forced to choose, and the choice was an obvious one, especially since Lumis held knowledge that Sidious badly craved. And if _this_ Master threw him away for Skywalker...

Obi-Wan smiled as he patted Tarkin's cheek, the man groaning his resistance, but his body reflexively leaned into his touch. Torture hadn't been enough to break the man, though Cody _did_ enjoy the fight he put up. While his mental fortitude was strong, certainly nothing a Jedi would be able to push through, without the Force, Tarkin didn't stand a chance at resisting Kenobi for long. No one ever did.

"Wilhuff Tarkin..." he drawled, leaning in close to the man and watching in delight as the Admiral tried and failed to focus his hazy eyes. "I _see_ you..." He ran his thumb over a gaunt cheek, observing as the bruised and bloody man squirmed under his grasp in equal parts revulsion and desire, the strength of his mind fighting with the yearnings of his body. It was a struggle that he didn't get to witness often, and _never_ in those that weren't Force sensitive, but he wasn't pushing very hard. It wouldn't due to destroy the man, not when he still had so much use to him.

"Get out of my head..." the Admiral managed to growl between grit teeth, his resolve hardening for only a moment before long fingers ran across the lacerations on his chest, and he shivered, moaning in pain, but arching into the unnecessarily gentle touch.

"And why would I want to do that? It's _fascinating_ in here," Kenobi chirped, grabbing the man's hair and making the shadows of the Force wriggle and writhe within him, an the Admiral gasped, keenly attuned to the feeling of his mental violation. "I didn't get a good look at you before, but now..." Kenobi flashed the struggling man a bright smile. "I've seen you in my visions. A long time ago, and still from time to time. The power to destroy a planet..." Kenobi leaned in and looked closer at the man, scrutinizing his every feature, memorizing every detail. "No wonder my Master took an interest in you...if you had the Force, you'd be _Sith_."

"If you break my toy, Master, I'm going to be _pissed_." Obi-Wan shot narrowed eyes over his shoulder to glare at Cody as he walked into the room, an amused smirk on his face, and the haze seemed to clear from Tarkin's mind, his teeth grit as he snarled in fury and strained against his bonds. "Not that it isn't your right, but I get _so_ little time with him..."

"No, he's going to be useful to me, I've no need to break him." He laid a long finger on the Admiral's high brow. "I just need to be in here, and I _am_." Kenobi sneered as he grasped his chin _hard_. "Look at you...raised to be an apex predator, only to find that there are powers beyond your understanding. You may be a big man to most, Wilhuff, but to me, you are _prey_. Your hunt for me has only taken you closer to my grasp, and now I have you..."

"General Skywalker will come for you," Tarkin hissed. "He will never go through with this trade of yours!"

"Oh, I'm counting on it..."

"My Lord," Cody said swiftly, once again drawing the Sith's attention. "We need to discuss the Mandalorians." Kenobi frowned.

"Is it bad?"

"Bo-Katan seems to think so." Obi-Wan growled in irritation, and with a slight gesture of his hand, Tarkin began to writhe, his teeth clamped shut to keep from howling in pain, but it did little to keep him from agonized groans as his blood began to boil within him. "Mandalore will never allow an outsider to rule, not after Maul. The true Mandalorians support you, sir, but those in the Empire in Hutt Space..."

"I suspect they are indifferent," he said softly. "This is a new Empire, they are not yet strong. The army is large, but not trained well for lack of time. Bo-Katan isn't the great uniter that Satine was."

"No, she isn't," Cody said firmly. "But she _is_ a warrior, and those from the Mandalore sector are the best this galaxy has to offer."

"But not enough to fight the Republic."

"...not even close. Not even with the entirety of their army, they are too new, and the clones are too well trained, and if the Republic tries to conquer them, systems will begin to break away to avoid the fighting." Obi-Wan groaned as he rubbed his tired eyes. He hadn't slept in days. He'd need to before he faced whatever it was that the next few days would bring.

"I'll try to convince Sidious to leave them alone until-"

"You know he won't," Cody said firmly, watching as the Sith Lord groaned in frustration. "And what will you do with Padmé and the twins? If you are to keep close to Sidious, you know as well as I that he won't allow you to keep another lover. And have you even considered that your Master may not choose you?"

" _I've considered all of that, Cody_!" Kenobi shouted, the Dark Side rearing up and causing Tarkin to scream in pain. He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face, calming himself as best as he was able. "I'm sorry..."

"May I ask your priorities?"

"The twins," he said swiftly, without a moment to think about the answer. "The Force is striking against Sidious, Cody, I know it is, I can feel it, and it's through _them_. If all else fails, they must survive." He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "Wonoksh Qyâsik nun. The Force shall set me free. It will. It _has_. I'll be free of my Master soon enough."

"And what of Mandalore?" the clone asked softly, and Obi-Wan shook his head.

"Hutt Space is too big for him to control well. Even now, it's fairly lawless, Sidious' Empire will have difficulty maintaining control of it between Jabba and Bo-Katan. The Mandalorians can be a huge problem to him if they disperse as soon as Order 66 is carried out."

Cody nodded his understanding, a sly smile coming across his lips as he considered what his Master had said and began formulating a plan. "I'll talk to Bo-Katan after you've taken Padmé from her. We'll think of something, sir."

"I know you will, my friend." A cry of pain from Tarkin drew Kenobi's attention, and he swiftly turned around, releasing his hold on the man and laying a cool, gentle hand on his cheek. "All you need to do is submit, Tarkin," he drawled sweetly. "Come now, ask for me to end the pain, ask me to stop the torture, and I will."

"I won't," Cody scoffed, and Obi-Wan flashed him a devious grin.

"The Dark Side thrives on pain, but on pleasure as well," Kenobi said softly, dragging a finger down the bloody chest and raking his fingernail across raw, exposed skin. "I'm sure I can find a slave around here to pleasure you, if you desired. I don't think I killed _all_ of them in my murderous rampage when I found out that the trap _you_ helped set had killed my best friend..."

"Pity we didn't get you as well..." Tarkin said, soft but defiant, and Kenobi grabbed his chin hard and forced pain hazed blue eyes to look into his. He could feel the Admiral shudder, could feel his resolve immediately weaken, his consciousness open and inviting, his submission an automatic response, a result of his earlier mental intrusion.

"On second thought, bring me the rancor, Cody." The Admiral's eyes widened in fear, and Kenobi flashed him a cold, amused smile. "Ever been with a rancor, Tarkin? No? I wonder if it hurts. I bet it's excruciating!" The Sith patted the shaking man's cheek. "If you let me, I can be a kinder Master than Palpatine ever could, but I can be far more cruel as well. Understand?"

"...yes, Master," the Admiral said softly, his voice distant, the predator brought low by a much more dangerous creature.

"Cody, let me know when he decided if he wants me to be kind or cruel. Throw a girl his way and see what happens. He may have forgotten what it's like, it's been _so_ long." He smiled at his clone and saluted. "I leave the rest to your care."

He walked away from the dungeons to the sounds of screams, and silence fell as he stepped inside the elevator to bring him to his quarters where Padmé lay, _hopefully_ , sleeping. The past few weeks had been trying, and rest, _actual_ rest, was becoming a necessity. The lights were off when he slipped into his bedroom, and he could feel the Senator's presence in his bed, breathing slow and shallow in her light sleep. Obi-Wan kicked off his shoes and took off his robes, laying his lightsabers on top of the folded pile before he climbed into bed as quietly as he could, laying back against his pillow for a moment and trying to relax, ignoring the woman beside him as he closed his eyes.

If Satine were alive, if he hadn't failed his love so spectacularly, then Sidious would already be dead, and it would be her next to him now, Empress of the New Sith Empire, with their infant son in her arms. Even now, the thought still wounded him, but at least he could think about her without plunging into insanity. The wound would never heal, he knew. The Dark Side held it open wide, a place where pain and anger and power freely flowed from, but before, the gaping hole had sent him into a state of panic so severe that he dreaded to look upon it. Now, gone was the horror, and in its place, simply a pain that constantly throbbed and ached, and he looked upon the bleeding gash with sorrow and grief that it was there. But at least he could look upon it.

His visions were brighter now, far more clear, though he only ever saw one these days, the one that all his visions came to in the end. The face in flames, screaming and blistering in agony. Since before he fell to the Dark Side, he had seen this vision, had felt it burned upon him, though it was always unclear, uncertain. His new clarity gave him insight and sharpened the image, and the face was now clear. Blazing eyes of red and yellow, filled with wrath and hate, peered at him from the sunken, burning featured of Anakin Skywalker, twisted and changed by the Dark Side and consumed by flames, his skin blackened and cracking and bleeding from the severity of the burns that covered him. Once, this vision filled him with dread, a promise of worse things to come, but now, it was all he wanted to look at. Skywalker _suffering_ , prolonged and divine in its agony, and the very thought made his blood rush with sinister euphoria. If the mere vision was this sweet, he could only imagine how blissful the reality would be.

The tug of the Force drew his attention, soft and sweet and comforting in its vulnerability, and with a small smile upon his lips, he turned over and drew Padmé close, his hand resting over the twins that would soon be his. The Senator, it seemed, had a taste for bad men, and she flew to one that would protect her children, as any good mother would. The light touches gently woke the woman, and she peered over her shoulder, started to turn over, and quickly gave up, nestling in the Sith's arms instead as he kissed her neck.

"Are you going to kill Anakin?" she asked softly, and Kenobi tensed for a moment, gauged her intentions, and found her simply curious.

"If I must..." he said softly. "I've always detested senseless killing, but he is a threat to your children."

" _Our_ children," she said, laying her hand over his.

"Our children," he corrected. "Quite frankly, death is too easy for him. After what he's done to you, to _them_ , it seems terribly unjust to give him mercy."

Padmé was silent for a long while, absently stroking her lover's arms and feeling the slow, easy rise and fall of his chest behind her. "Whatever you do," she said softly, "do what's best for Luke and Leia. No matter what."

"I will," he softly promised, clutching the woman closer to him. "I will."

* * *

He had called him Darth Vader. It was a name of power, one that inspired awe and fear and terror to all those that so foolishly opposed him. The meaning wasn't lost on Anakin. He knew full well what had happened, what he had done, what he now was. _Darth_. It was more than just a title, it was a warning to bow down or be destroyed. A title bestowed on very few, a title that declared supremacy. Count Dooku had bore the title, a man that pushed an entire galaxy into war, a man that was responsible for the deaths of billions. Darth Tyranus. He had been powerful, but he was old, and now he was dead, killed by a fellow Sith, a former Jedi Master following his student Qui-Gon to the grave.

There was Obi-Wan Kenobi. Hated, _loathsome_ Obi-Wan also bore the mantle of Sith Lord, was also called by the dreaded title. A man who spread chaos and confusion, not with violence, but with words, sweet and smooth and uttered by a sliver tongue in a clipped Coruscanti accent that made him seem refined and aristocratic. All things to hide that he was a murderer, a dreaded Sith Lord, Darth Lumis. It was strange that nobody ever called him by that name, even though everybody knew it. Perhaps it was intentional, done by Kenobi to make him appear less intimidating, less dangerous than he was. Perhaps it was for the benefit of the Jedi that served him, a convoluted means to delude themselves into believing that they didn't serve a Sith Lord. Lumis too would fall to the hands of a Sith Lord. _Him. Darth Vader_.

Kenobi - _Lumis_ \- had made an error, had displeased his Master, and now Chancellor Palpatine, _Darth Sidious_ , sought to destroy him. Overstepped his bounds, he had said. Became a threat, was to be reeled in or destroyed, and Anakin wanted to kill him, _needed_ to kill him. And the Jedi had stopped him. The Jedi have _always_ stopped him, always gotten in his way, always held him back from the true power that he felt right now. They were _afraid_ of him, and what's more, they served the Sith, as was evident in their recent actions. They wouldn't help him save Padmé, wouldn't help him kill Obi-Wan, and strove to keep their _Master_ safe by keeping Anakin on the ground. They all knew there was a Sith in the Senate, and they had chosen to support Kenobi over Sidious. They made the _wrong_ decision, and they would pay for it. They would _all_ pay for it...

The Jedi were truly lost, corrupted completely if they would support Darth Lumis, as they did by denying Anakin the right to kill him now when he needed their support most. How long had this been going on? How far did the corruption go? Kenobi's words had poisoned the Jedi, had run through the Force like poison and infected them all. The Masters served the Sith, taught the others to do so as well, and the teachings passed down, all the way to the eager ears of the younglings. It needed to be rooted out, and like all corruption, it needed to be completely cut out to stop the spread. Obi-Wan was a corrupting influence, and everyone that he touched needed to be exterminated. Darth Sidious opposed his own apprentice, which made him an _ally_.

The Jedi supported the wrong Sith Lord, and they would pay for it. The Sith Lord Lumis was _not_ to be tolerated. Right now, Sidious was an ally, a powerful practitioner of the Dark Side that opened Anakin's eyes to power, a supposedly evil, malignant creature that supported Anakin more than the Jedi did. A Master Sith that knew the dangers of the apprentice he had created, and was ready and able to give Anakin the means of destroying Obi-Wan when the Jedi would keep him on Coruscant to be _useless_. But when Obi-Wan was dead, the alliance would be over. Anakin would have gotten what he needed out of the Sith Master, and having no further use for him, he would be discarded. He would kill him, as the Jedi were never able to do, as the Sith were _destined_ to do, and Darth Vader would destroy the last of the Sith Lords before he returned to Padmé and their child.

She would understand then. She would _have_ to understand. She'd finally know that she had been used and abused by _vile_ Obi-Wan, that the Sith Lord _made_ her love him, made her leave with him, _made_ her accept him within her. Anakin had joined the Sith, had embraced the Dark Side, _yes_ , but it was all for her, all to keep Kenobi from killing her, as his vision showed, all to stop the _horrible screams_. And when she was saved, when she was his again, when Obi-Wan lay dying and choking on his own blood, Anakin, _Vader_ would kill Darth Sidious and rid the galaxy of the Sith once and for all. After that, it would just be him and Padmé, and their child...provided it hadn't been corrupted by Obi-Wan's presence. Provided that it wasn't _actually_ Kenobi's vile spawn this whole time...

Darth Vader. _Darth Vader_. Anakin smiled. He liked the sound of it. It felt... _right_ , like a name long forgotten that was once his, like remembering what he was meant to be. He was a Force nexus, a boy so powerful that Qui-Gon Jinn had thrown away Obi-Wan Kenobi. It was wrong of the Jedi to deny him, wrong that he was not yet a Master when he was stronger than all the rest, _wrong_ that he didn't sit on the Council when seats were _empty_ , and so very wrong to deny him the full extent of his powers by forbidding the Dark Side, especially when he was powerful enough to attract the attention of the Sith Master, was strong enough to be given the weight of a title that so few had come to bear.

Pong Krell had fallen, had joined the Sith, but he was _never_ a Sith Lord, and Anakin had killed him. Asajj Ventress was never truly Sith, and he had killed her too. And Quinlan Vos, the Kiffar Master he had fought beside, had remembered liking, _respecting_ , had fallen, rushed to the Dark Side to stand beside Obi-Wan. Even so close as he was to a Sith Lord, even having been suspected of being an apprentice, Quinlan had _never_ been Sith, and Anakin had slaughtered him like the animal he was. They were not Sith, but _he_ was, and he had destroyed them, _pretenders_ , the lot of them, because they were weak, and they were _nothing_.

Anakin looked out the forward viewport at the swiftly approaching planet and could feel his rage build, the excitement of slaughter growing within him, the anticipation of coming one step closer to ending the war, one moment closer to saving Padmé, one breath away from taking Quinlan Vos' lightsaber and thrusting it through Kenobi's vile, blackened heart. The Force seemed to cry out at the very idea, be it out of triumph or horror, Anakin didn't know, nor did he care. There wasn't any other way Kenobi _could_ go out, wasn't anything more appropriate than watching those glowing, golden eyes widen as his friend's lightsaber brought an end to him. The only thing that could possibly make it sweeter was if he was killed in Sundari, in the place he had lost his whore and his vile spawn. He didn't suspect he'd be so lucky, though.

The Chancellor, Sidious, his _Master_ , had lent him the use of his personal ship, had given him permission to leave on official business, on a secret assignment to destroy General Grievous. He would have gone straight for Kenobi, but Sidious had warned him against it, had cautioned him that Lumis was too strong, too secure, and needed to be disrupted to diminish his strength. He had argued at first, but slowly came around to Sidious' desires, and he felt _so good_ for doing so, his entire body rushing with power and pleasure that bordered on sexual euphoria, the Force itself surging with how right it all felt. So he was off to quickly dispatch of Kenobi's last support, the final element that held the Confederacy together. With Grievous dead, the entire weight of the Separatist movement would fall on Obi-Wan's shoulders, and he would be crushed under the weight of it. Anakin would kill him, and it would all be over...

The planet was called Utapau, and Grievous had retreated to the neutral world to regroup after a defeat on Sluis Van, so said Sidious. He would know. _Lumis_ sent him updates somewhat frequently, and the Master cross checked the information through other sources. The report was good, though this one didn't come from Lumis. _He_ hadn't been reporting in. Anakin eased his ship through the atmosphere, following the coordinates that Sidious had sent to the navicomputer before he had left. If there were Separatists here, they must have been hiding, because there were no ships in orbit, no patrols in the skies, no droid presence to be seen. He dove the ship into one of the large sinkholes that dotted the planet, massive, cavernous carvings in the ground where the Pau'an cities were built into the vertical cliff face. He landed the ship on a docking platform that extended out of the carved walls and drew up his hood as he walked down the boarding ramp. A group of native Pau'ans came to meet him, but with a wave of his hand, they allowed him to pass. Anakin didn't need to deal with these fools. Grievous was here. He could sense him.

Anakin closed his eyes and let the Force guide him through the winding city etched out of the stone cliffs, the pull of the General calling to him, the Dark Side calling for and demanding his death. He stopped, looked up to a platform high above him, and could hear the clanking of droids. Grievous was there. With a sinister grin, Anakin leapt on top of hovercarts and machinery, using the Force to propel his jump, and a moment later, he grabbed hold of the edge of the platform and pulled himself up. Skywalker grinned broadly when a hundred battle droids primed and pointed their blasters at him. Droids were of no concern.

As he was told, he embraced his anger, his rage toward Kenobi, his need to finish this quickly to get to him, and power swelled within him, converging upon him so strongly it felt as though he had been pulled rapidly under the water, his chest burning with pressure as he was dragged deeper. When he thought his lungs would burst, Skywalker took hold of the Force, the energy darkening in his hands, and a feral, savage scream tore from his lungs as he blasted the droids back, the Force crashing into them with such ferocity that those who stood closest to him were torn apart before they struck the ground. The Dark Side roared in triumph in his ears as scraps of metal and sparks showered the platform, the hapless droids striking walls and breaking on impact, while others blew off the edge, and when the winds died down, when the anger subsided, Anakin found himself looking not just at an enraged General Grievous, but a shocked and confused Barriss Offee. The day couldn't possibly have gotten any better.

"Do I have your attention?" Anakin asked softly, and a metallic growl, low and dangerous, carried through the air.

"General Skywalker..." Grievous snarled, shrugging off his cape and grabbing his lightsabers, the hydraulics in his arms hissing as they divided into four. Anakin made no move to reach for his own weapon. "You come alone?"

"I don't need anyone else," Anakin hissed, and with a gasp, Barriss rushed forward, stopping just in front of Grievous and peered at her friend, her mouth drawing into a thin line as she looked into yellow eyes rimmed with red.

"Anakin..." she whispered. "You've fallen too." She drew up to her full height and took her lightsaber into her hand. "Kenobi said you fell. He said you belong to the Sith now."

"I belong to _nobody!_ " Skywalker shouted, his voice echoing as it carried across the expanse of the sinkhole. "And when I through with you, Kenobi will have _nobody left_. No friends, no family, nobody left to protect him, and he will die too."

"You mean to _fight him_?" Barriss asked, her jaw hanging slack. "Like _this_?! Anakin, don't be a fool, he'll kill you. He's a Master, you're a child next to him."

" _Don't insult me_!"

"It's not an insult, it's the truth!" the Mirialan insisted. "The Dark Side isn't like the light, Anakin. It's all the Force, yes, but the _application_ , what it does to you-"

"Do you mean to _lecture me_?!" Skywalker snarled, his mechanical hand clenching so hard that the Mirialan could hear the metal groaning in protest. " _Me_! A am a living vergence in the Force, and _you_ would lecture _me_?" He scoffed. "You're worse than your Master. _She_ serves Kenobi also. How many of the Jedi serve him, hmm?! You're in a position to know!"

"Are you out of your mind?" the Mirialan asked, backing away and confused. "You're completely paranoid, Luminara is a _Jedi_ , the best they've got!"

"And yet she's _friends_ with that snake..."Anakin said bitterly. "Sith are creatures of passion. Is she his lover as well? Is Senator Amidala not enough for him?!"

Barriss clamped her mouth shut and stared defiantly at Anakin. He was no doubt Sith, but he did not serve the same cause as Kenobi. Obi-Wan was far from pure intentions, but the man's belief in his Code could not be denied. He adhered to it, heard the will of the Force and _listened_. Anakin just felt like power, raw, untamed and chaotic. His fall was a personal one, a selfish one, and darkness made him strong as it blinded him. Obi-Wan saw clearly in the darkness, but Anakin was swinging wild, and Barriss knew that neither she nor Grievous would leave the planet.

"We were friends once, Anakin," she said softly, "so please, listen to me when I say this. Do _not_ go after Obi-Wan. As strong as you may be, you are no Master of the Dark Side like he is, he will kill you, or worse. _Please_ , be reasonable! Turn back now before its too late."

"You're trying to sway me," Anakin growled, and the Mirialan rolled her eyes.

"Yes, that's _exactly_ what I'm trying to do!"

"It won't work. Nothing you can do will save you now, Barriss..."

The Mirialan smiled, sad and resolute, closed her eyes, and centered herself. She had always been ready to let go when it was time, and her time was now. No amount of darkness could take that from her. "I'm no match for you, Anakin. Luminara beat me recently with _very_ little effort, and you've always been stronger than both of us."

"Then you'll die quickly."

The thrumming hiss of four ignited lightsabers hissed in the air behind her, and before she could stop him, Grievous was charging Anakin, the cyborg furious and raging and unaware that Skywalker already had his weapon drawn and ready, the Dark Side in his hands and waiting to strike. Just before Grievous could reach him, Skywalker threw the full power of the Dark Side at the cyborg and the Mirialan, and without the Force to protect him, Grievous was blasted back, his heavy body keeping him grounded and his clawed feet digging deep gouges into the ground and preventing him from sliding back too far. The cyborg pressed in again, swift and agile, and this time, Skywalker drew his blades, blue and green thrumming to life and catching Grievous' blades with practiced ease.

Vader sneered as he batted away Grievous's swirling blades and wondered how anyone _ever_ considered this heap of scraps a threat. Without the Force, he was _nothing_ , simply the refined and elegant lightsaber in the hands of a machine. It felt like... _practice_. Training for the fight to come against the cyborg's Master, and Vader reveled in it, his sharp eyes seeing every movement before it happened, his blades flying to defend against attacks that he could sense were about to happen, making his movements seem jagged and random when they were actually calculated and precise. Grievous snarled in his rage, pressing his attack even harder, not knowing that he had already lost, unaware that the Sith Lord before him had no peer when it came to a swift and brutal offensive. This entire fight had been finished the moment Vader set foot upon Utapau.

He only sensed it right before it happened, and he swiftly brought his green blade down just in time to bat the Mirialan's lightsaber down, the point grazing his leg instead of slipping between his ribs, as had been the intent. Pain filled him as rage did, and the Force converged upon him and then violently blasted outwards, sending Grievous flying, but the Mirialan hardly moved, her defenses raised and warding against powerful blast of energy. Vader focused on her, his eyes narrowed in rage at the girl that dared stand against him. She was no threat. She had _never_ been a threat.

Barriss was on him, swift and agile, ducking and dodging Vader's blades until she slipped under his guard and thrust forward, but the Sith spun out of the way, dropping his secondary lightsaber as he grabbed her extended wrist, pulling her with him as he pivoted. Swiftly, Vader switched directions, brought his knee up, and broke the Mirialan's arm at the elbow over his leg. With a sharp cry of pain, Barriss' useless hand dropped her lightsaber, and she was tossed to the side to collapse in a heap against a stack of supply crates. Whimpering in pain, she kept her eyes focused on Skywalker as he called his dropped saber to him and directed his attention back to Grievous, the enraged cyborg having recovered his strength and was now forced to retreat, defending himself from an absolute flurry of raining blows from the fallen Jedi. She reached out with her left hand and called her saber to her, grit her teeth as she severed her useless appendage, and slowly rose to her feet, the severe pain of the break easing instantly as nerves were cut and cauterized.

Vader drank in the pain of the Mirialan, the suffering inflicted by her broken limb, and he used it to fuel his power, the delight of an enemy soon fallen driving him to new heights of power. He felt lightheaded, _intoxicated_ as he drove against Grievous, the cyborg's two blades struggling to defend against Vader's two. It didn't take long for him to trap two of the General's weapons under his blade, circle around them to keep them out of his way, and his other saber swung upwards in a wide arc, burning plasma connecting with one leg at the knee and two of his wrists. Grievous howled in rage, not pain, as he stumbled off balance and toppled to the ground, and Vader slowly stepped toward him as he tried to scramble to his feet.

Between the swimming in his head and the pleasure pulsing through his blood, Vader only just managed to catch the swift stab that came from behind him, and he reeled around to find the Mirialan, her face drawn and pale, her eyes intense, and he almost felt admiration for the strength of her resolve. But the moment was fleeting, and in the next second, he dropped his green lightsaber once again to swiftly shoot out his hand and wrap it around her slender neck and lift her off the ground. With a sigh of satisfaction, Vader thrust his lightsaber through her chest, her eyes filling with pain, but a wicked smirk was upon her lips as she drove her own weapon into his hip, causing the Sith to howl in pain and fury as he staggered and dropped the girl to the ground, a shiver running through her body as her life faded from her.

With pain came rage, and then power, fierce in its intensity, and Vader turned blazing yellow eyes on the struggling Grievous, and nothing else mattered. He extended his hands, his breathing fast and heavy as he grasped the cyborg in the grip of the Force, rose him off the ground, and hammered the power of the Dark Side against the durable metal body, Grievous' yellow eyes widening in pain as the metallic covering of his chest dented and bent and finally shattered. With a final howl of wrath, Vader brought his hands together, and General Grievous' chest was crushed, the screams silenced when his organ sac was punctured and torn by sharp shards of metal, his lungs and heart and vitals dripping onto the floor in a shower of blood and gore. Vader dropped the body of the General, reduced to mere scrap metal, into the viscous puddle of the remains of his organic self.

The Dark Side pulsed in triumph, sending waver of pleasure and satisfaction through him that nearly completely erased the sharp pain in his hip, and with a final sneer of contempt at the shreds of the Confederacy's last commanders, Vader turned to begin the walk back to the Chancellor's ship, a slight limp in his step from his smoking wound. There would be time on the trip back to Coruscant to treat the injury. All that was left to do was report to his Master, and then he would be off to whatever hole Obi-Wan Kenobi was hiding in. It was finally time to end Lumis' life so Vader could have his back.


	114. Order 66

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOO! Happy Birthday to me! Quick celebratory note, we're fast approaching the end of this story, and given how I have a lot to tie up, it may take a day or two between chapters to get them up. Here in my world, we are dedicated to quality, and as this thing concludes, I want to hold up to that standard and make sure there aren't any loose ends. Just so you know. Alright, enjoy, my lovelies! As always, your thoughts you share with me are often the highlight of my day. Love you guys, and enjoy!

Ahsoka trudged up the steps of the Jedi Temple, her body covered in dirt and dust and blood, her shoulders slumped in weariness, her arm hanging limply by her side, in far too much pain to move it. The wound in her shoulder, crusted with blood and dirt, never had a chance to heal properly. It was difficult to reach, and there was never enough bacta patches in the escape pods she rummaged through, and never enough time to allow the treated wound to rest like it needed to facilitate healing. In her good hand, she clutched a data stick and held it close to her chest. It was the most valuable thing she had ever owned, though as a Jedi, as a _former_ Jedi, that wasn't saying much. Jedi weren't supposed to have possessions, and the thing she so tightly clutched was more valuable than anything _anyone_ could possess.

The information on the tiny drive had been paid for in blood, had been bought with the lives of three radiant people that never deserved to die. Asajj Ventress, who walked in the dark, only to turn away when she found herself in too deep, a hard thing to do, but she had done it. Ahsoka got to know her, though not terribly well. Ventress had been reluctant to get close to others because of her terrible losses, but when Ahsoka knew her, that was changing, and it became clear that even those steeped in darkness could rise out of it and feel love. She died in the light, sacrificing herself to save the man she loved, a sacrifice that had only bought the man a few extra minutes, and it pained Ahsoka to think that Ventress' life wasn't worth more than that. The exchange was an unfair one. Ventress deserved more.

Plo Koon, who had walked in the light, had _always_ walked in the light, had been her friend, her mentor, the first Jedi she had ever met, the first person to explain to her what the Force was. He had found her and brought her back to the Jedi Temple, took her under his wing when she was a youngling instead of taking a Padawan of his own, instead wishing to guide her and watch her grow, sensing promise and potential in her. They had been fast friends, like the father she could never remember, and as he lived, he had died to protect her, to give her a chance to save herself.

Quinlan Vos, who had walked in shadows with graceful ease and a carefree nature, the mischievous Kiffar always ready for anything, be it joke or prank or fight, and took it all on with a smile on his face. He had been her Master, her brother, her closest friend in the horrors of the war. He wasn't like any Jedi she ever knew. He took to the Code not at all, viewed them as helpful suggestions instead of rules, and he felt _deeply_ , lived for those he cared about, _loved_ those he let close, and he had died for the student he adored. He had lost his way in the end, or _found_ it, she supposed, right into the arms fallen Obi-Wan, the two men tied together in grief and loss, and thought it had hurt her, Quinlan hadn't changed _that_ much. He died to save her, sacrificed his life to give her a fighting chance at survival, stared death defiantly in the face so that Ahsoka could live to deliver a message that would destroy the one that killed him.

_I am so proud of you_ , he had said. There was _nothing_ to be proud of. She had failed as a Jedi, failed as a friend, and she wasn't worth the lives that were given to save her. She wondered how Obi-Wan was faring. The sinister Sith Lord had been weirdly kind to her when last they met, had pulled his resources and influence to _help_ her, though she'd never understand why. He and Quinlan had been closer than close, a bond so deep that not even darkness could sever it. But death did, and it came for Vos, swift and uncompromising, on the red blade of the lightsaber that had been his lover's, held in the hand of a Jedi that Ahsoka once called friend.

_Anakin Skywalker_. A low growl resonated in her chest as she kept her eyes fixed on the Jedi Temple, her legs shaking and sore after days and days on the run from a relentless hunter. Revenge was not the Jedi way, but Ahsoka was no Jedi, and she felt the need for it now. She didn't know what possessed Anakin, the best and the brightest of the Jedi Order, to fall into darkness, but that _thing_ , that _creature_ that murdered her Master and her friends was _not_ the boy she had known and fought beside, was not the friend she had cared so deeply about. She didn't have the strength to beat him, not when Master Plo had fallen before his blade, but she knew someone who did. When her message was delivered, she'd get her shoulder fixed, and then she'd look for Obi-Wan. The Sith Lord could stop Anakin Skywalker. He _had_ to be able to. There would be no justice for what happened otherwise.

There were _way_ more stairs than she had remembered. Ahsoka looked behind her to see how far she had climbed, and there must have been _hundreds_ of steps. She felt dizzy all of a sudden, faced forwards once again, and after taking a deep breath, she ran the rest of the way, her sore, tired legs complaining, but reluctantly complying. Nobody kept her from entering the Temple, and she jogged down the long corridors toward the elevator that would bring her to the Council. Her lungs were burning, but she was close, and she wouldn't stop now. Her Master's final orders had to be carried out. She had run and hid without rest, she had evaded clones and droids, had stolen a ship, had escaped death _just_ to get here. _Survive_ , Quinlan had said, _no matter the cost_. And she would.

The feeling in the Temple was... _weird_ , an odd mix of triumphant and morose, of joy and frustration, and she couldn't place why, and didn't spare another thought to it as she stepped inside the elevator that would carry her to the Council. She tapped her foot impatiently as she waited, the elevator swiftly rising, but not swift enough for her. What would she even say to them? Would they even believe her? Quinlan had mistrusted the Council because of what they had done to Obi-Wan, and he had passed that suspicion down to his student. They would certainly trust Anakin's word over hers, right? After all, she left the Jedi, had been trained by a Master so close to darkness that he succumbed to it. She gripped the data stick tighter. Three people died for this. It would do what it needed to. It _had_ to.

She strode into the Council Chamber without announcing herself, ignored the stares of the present Masters upon her, and stood before Mace Windu, her mouth drawn in a straight line as she pressed the data stick into his hand with a shaky, relieved sigh. "Anakin Skywalker," she began, "is a _murderer_." The reaction she got wasn't the one she was expecting. The Masters assembled, Kit Fisto, Saesee Tiin, Agen Koler, and Mace Windu, the four best swordsmen in the Order with no exception, looked at each other not with confusion or surprise, but with grim resolve.

"We've heard that from someone else," Mace said, holding up the data stick and observing it carefully. "From Obi-Wan Kenobi. Have you been in contact with him?" Her temper instantly flared and she snarled, her eyes narrowing in anger until Mace put up his hand. "Peace, Ahsoka, I believe you. Though I suspect that you and he are talking about different incidents. He was referring to the massacre on Stewjon."

" _Anakin did that_!" Ahsoka cried, her hands balling into tight little fists until pain shot up her arm, and she relaxed, gingerly reaching up to hold her wounded shoulder. She inclined her head toward the data stick. "That's the proof of what Anakin's done, there were _witnesses_." Mace nodded and silently inserted the data stick into the reader on the arm of his chair, the room dimming as the holoprojector turned on, and the four Masters watched in rapt attention at the recorded interviews. Ahsoka couldn't bring herself to watch them, and covered her ears so she didn't need to listen to Quinlan's voice when he spoke. Instead, she looked through teary eyes at the Masters in the room as they watched, their faces impassive and expressionless, as though they were getting conformation on something they had long suspected. For the first time in a long while, Ahsoka felt she could trust the Council.

The recording ended, and the Masters leaned back in their seats, and for a long while, nobody said anything. Ahsoka couldn't believe how tired, how _weary_ they all looked. The war had gone on for a very, _very_ long time, and the Jedi had suffered more than most. "You were on the _Enigma_ ," Mace finally said. It wasn't a question. "Tell us what happened."

" _Anakin_ ," Ahsoka growled. "Anakin happened."

"Ventress was there," Kit Fisto said somberly. "We haven't figured how she fits into this."

"Skywalker said Vos captured Master Plo Koon," Saesee Tiin said, and Ahsoka felt her eyes begin to run with tears. "He said when he got there, Quinlan had Ventress and Master Plo backed into a corner. Skywalker says he tried to save them, but Vos killed them both."

" _He's lying_!" she shouted, her breath hitching as she began to sob. "Ventress was there because Master Quinlan _forgave her_! They were getting back together because they _loved each other_." She sniffled and wiped her nose on her arm, which only served to get more dirt on her face. "Anakin came on the ship with his clones and started shooting at us. We all tried to fight him, but he was too strong. I got shot, and Master Plo came to protect me." Her eyes narrowed in anger as her heart started to beat faster. "Anakin was going to kill Master Quinlan, and Ventress gave her life to save him! Master Plo fought him to give me and Master Quinlan a chance to escape, and Anakin killed him too!"

"You don't need to say any more, Ahsoka, we understand," Mace said softly, but the Togruta was not done.

"He _murdered_ Master Quinlan!" she shouted, tears streaming down her face. "He bought me time to escape by standing against that _monster_ , and he stabbed my Master through the back! All so I could live to give you _that_ , and it _wasn't worth it_!" She dropped to the floor, her face buried in her hands as she helplessly sobbed, and Kit Fisto got out of his seat, knelt beside her, and took her into his arms.

"General Grievous is dead," Mace said softly. "At the hands of Anakin Skywalker. He went behind our backs and defied our orders, and if that wasn't enough for you to detain him, I think we can all agree that this is."

"Skywalker must be apprehended," Master Tiin growled, and the other three Masters nodded in agreement.

"I'm going to take Ahsoka to the infirmary," Kit said softly, carefully inspecting her shoulder. "Don't leave without me."

Mace rose, taking the data stick from the reader after checking that the file had been copied, and handed it back to Ahsoka, the Togruta taking it with a shaking hand. "Thank you," he said softly. "It feels like this is the first bit of clarity we have had in a _very_ long time." He turned to face the other Masters. "I'm going to contact Master Yoda about what's happened. Do what you need to get ready and meet back here in an hour. We've got a job to do."

* * *

" _You said_ ," Anakin snarled as he paced before his Master, "that when Grievous was dead, we could go and kill Kenobi!" He slammed his hand upon the desk where Sidious stood, the Master looking up at the raging man. He wasn't impressed. "Well, _Master_ , Grievous is dead, along with Barriss Offee! He has _nobody left_!"

"Nobody, yes," Sidious said, nodding in agreement before his eyes narrowed and he pointed at the pacing young Sith. "Nobody except for the Jedi Order, two clone battalions, and an Empire of Mandalorians." He folded his hands upon the desk. "I advise patience, Lord Vader."

" _Patience_!" Anakin spat in contempt. "If I wanted to listen to some old fool prattle on about patience, I'd have stayed with the Jedi!" Sidious scoffed and rolled his eyes. He had forgotten what it was like to raise a young, newly fallen Sith Lord. It had been such a long time since the contemptuous Obi-Wan Kenobi had fallen into his embrace, the young man bitter and angry and so very, very strong. He was rough, yes, but he could see the beginnings of a masterpiece through hard edges. The boy had sunken himself deep into the Dark Side, had studied carefully and experimented for years on his own, and by the time Sidious had laid his hands on him, little Obi-Wan was already slain by the Sith that would come to be known as Lumis. He was a patient, devious little thing, obedient, loyal and measured and possessing a talent for subversion. Before Sidious even began working on him, Lumis had been _beautiful_ , and when he joined the Sith, he was well accustomed to darkness.

Not so with Anakin Skywalker. Sidious had his eye on the young vergence the moment that he had walked into his office nearly fifteen years ago. The boy had begun his training too late, was too emotional, too fearful for the Jedi, and with so great a potential, he quickly made it his plan to take the boy as his apprentice when he was ready. Then came Obi-Wan, gift wrapped by the Dark Side, and Sidious became distracted, absorbed in training a new, powerful apprentice, and when he hadn't been looking, Skywalker had been stolen from him by Qui-Gon Jinn. He had been taught patience, compassion, understanding, all things that stood to ruin him for the Sith, and with the boy bound tightly to a Master that was just as rebellious as his student, Anakin had no complaint, no challenge that he would have to face alone.

He hadn't intended for there to be distance between them, he had _intended_ for he and Skywalker to grow close, but Qui-Gon had prevented that. He had to arrange for Tarkin to get close to the boy instead so he could slowly be shown that brutal, ruthless tactics produced results, and with his manipulation of Padmé Amidala, he turned a childhood crush into a real problem. His influence had been indirect, but it had worked regardless, and now that Qui-Gon lay dead, Skywalker was left with no support and a mountain of problems, leaving him open and willing for the Dark Side to slip inside his soul and corrupt him.

It was a _raging mess_.

"Do you really want to go against Lumis knowing that he can call upon allies to aid him? Even alone, he is more than your match." Vader snarled in anger, and Sidious held up a hand. "You need time to train, apprentice. Time to curb your impulsive temper, time to hone your powers into a weapon to be feared."

" _I don't have time_!" he shouted again. "He has Padmé, _that beast has Padmé_!" Vader rushed to his Master's side and knelt, took his hand between his and kissed the gnarled fingers. He could feel the Force pulse through his Master like blood, and it was _exhilarating_. "I need to save her, and I need to do it now, the visions won't stop, _the screams won't stop_!" He looked up at the older man, the Master's face tinted with disgust, but otherwise blank. "We can do it together! You and I, we'll go and kill him _together_! We'll kill him and save Padmé, and after that, I'm yours forever!"

Sidious scoffed. He could feel the boy's murderous intent. Skywalker thought he was lying to him, unaware of the truth he spoke. "Do you think I need you to kill Lumis?" he whispered, watching carefully as Vader looked up at him with shock and not a little anger. "Lumis is nothing before me. He is quickly becoming a rival because he fashions himself a Master, and there can only ever be two Sith." He was lying, of course. He had always lied on this matter. Bane's Rule of Two was over, and since the death of his own Master, he had enforced the Rule of _One_. There was only him. His apprentices' learned a mere fraction of what he knew, and needed no more than that. With him, the Sith Imperative would be complete, so there was no need to pass down all his knowledge to one that would come after him because he would _need_ no successor. Which is why it was such a cruel twist that it was _Lumis_ who had discovered immortality.

"If you can kill him..." Anakin began, shaking and angry until he felt the Force seem to rush out of him, power replaced by complacence.

"Killing him is _your_ task, Vader, if you are to take his place," Sidious said softly, smirking when he found how easily the boy submitted, how badly he craved direction in a life that had become chaotic. "Only the best will serve me as a Lord of the Sith. It would be improper if I were to interfere. It's not the place of the Master to kill the Apprentice, the Apprentice is to defend his title from all who challenge him."

"I'll do it!" Anakin gasped eagerly, swallowing to wet his dry throat. "He's taken everything from me, it's only right I take everything he is."

Sidious nodded, but said nothing. Skywalker was _extremely_ powerful, but a few months of untrained, unfocused rage did not make a Lord of the Sith. He would be a fine apprentice, in time, but he needed tempering and refinement. He was a child suddenly in possession of a deadly weapon that he had only a basic understanding of. He would need to contact Lumis and get him to surrender the girl. An uneasy peace could be made, of this, Sidious was certain. At least long enough to learn Lumis' secret, and when he did, Lumis would have to be killed. He was barely an apprentice any longer and could stand in opposition to his rule, and holding on to him long enough to learn the secret of immortality would be difficult enough as it was.

But it was still manageable. The war was very close to over now that Grievous was dead, and in the birth of the Empire, Lumis would be brought in and reminded of his place, the considerable Dark Side within him grasped by Sidious and forced to submit to the Master. A cowed Lumis and an eager to learn Vader would make for a powerful pair, and if Sidious was forced to choose, the choice was obvious. Vader would stand by his side, his final test being the death of Darth Lumis.

Vader needed years of training, was so, so far from the level of divine perfection of Lumis, and was even further from his own potential. Lumis, on the other hand, was months away from a serious attempt on Sidious' life, and while he _did_ know how to remain young, it had yet to be seen if it could keep him from death. Sidious suspected not, and given the choice, he would make the exchange. A dead Lumis was unfortunate, but the additional time gained by training Vader would allow him to meditate on Lumis' discovery. What's more, Lumis had nothing left to lose, which made him dangerous and difficult to control. Anakin, on the other hand, had a very real weakness, one which allowed him to be easily manipulated. A great deal could change in the time it takes to raise a Sith Lord, and Sidious was both powerful and clever.

It was all hypothetical, though. Lumis could continue the war for a few more months. In that time, he could solidify his alliance with the Mandalorians, continue training Vader, warm him up to the idea of working with Lumis, remind Lumis why he was merely the apprentice, show him that he still had _much_ to learn and much to gain from his Master. Such thoughts had kept Darth Plagueis alive for over a decade, well past the point of his debilitating injury, long after Sidious could have killed him. He needed to know _everything_ , and he had taught his apprentices, Maul, Tyranus, Lumis, and soon Vader, _very_ little of what he knew. He just needed time. Those few months would set everything perfectly in line.

The doors to his office suddenly slid open, and Anakin quickly stood, his heart pounding in his chest as he stared into the cold, hard faces of four Jedi Masters. "I told you he'd be here," Kit Fisto said, and Mace Windu nodded, his eyes narrowing as he glared at the rogue Jedi.

"Defying the Council, Anakin?" Mace asked, his voice colder than the air in the room, and Skywalker growled deeply.

"It was _idiotic_ that I should be contained to Coruscant because of something a _Sith Lord_ said!" Anakin snarled. "I brought us one step closer to the end of the war! I killed General Grievous while _you_ would have had me locked up in the Temple! You should be _thanking me_."

"Master Jedi..." Palpatine said softly, rising to his feet and his hands extended in an attempt to calm the Masters. "This seems to be a misunderstanding. I fear I'm to blame for sending General Skywalker. We got good intelligence on Grievous' current location, and I thought it too great an opportunity to miss. I called for him. I was unaware he had other orders, but..." Palpatine shrugged. "The business of the Republic is the Jedi's top priority."

For a moment, Mace was silent, his eyes drifting between Anakin and Palpatine, his brow knit as he weighed his options. "Chancellor," Master Windu finally said, "we have evidence to prove that Anakin Skywalker is responsible for the massacre on Stewjon. This matter about Grievous is ultimately irrelevant. He needs to come with us. _Now_."

Palpatine's eyes widened as he stared at Anakin, the young Jedi tense and shaking and _furious_. "Evidence?" he muttered. "What evidence?"

"Three witnesses," the Master said swiftly. "He killed them and blamed it on Kenobi."

"It _was_ the Sith!" Anakin snarled, and Mace's face hardened considerably.

"You're right. _It was_."

"This is outrageous!" Skywalker shouted, stepping back as all four Masters blocked the now locked door and only exit. "Kenobi must have done something, like he always does! Manipulated their minds, or-"

"That doesn't explain what happened on the _Enigma_ ," Mace growled. "Three people dead, Anakin, one of them, _two of them_ Jedi Masters, and we can prove you did it."

Anakin gasped, his vision tunneling as fear began to sit in the pit of his stomach. "You found Ahsoka..." he muttered softly before he snarled in rage. "She's _lying_! Ahsoka Tano was trained by a Sith, she's working for Kenobi! How could you believe her over me!" His breathing became faster as panic began to set in. "You're working for him. You're trying to stop me to save your Sith Master! How long have you been serving Kenobi, Mace?!"

" _Again_ with Obi-Wan," Mace snarled. "Your obsession with him has gone on long enough. Come with us, Anakin. We can get you the help you need."

"I don't _need_ any help!" Skywalker snarled, his lightsaber flying into his hand and igniting, and the cascading chorus of the hiss of plasma filled the air as the Jedi lit their own weapons.

Palpatine looked on with a worried, frightened look on his face, but Darth Sidious was _furious_. All his careful planning, all his perfect timing, ruined in an instant, all his extra time, all the time he _needed_ consumed by carelessness and a foul temper. He had half a mind to hide under the desk and wait for Skywalker to die, but the Jedi wouldn't kill him. The Jedi would disable him, imprison him, _question him_ , And Sidious had no doubt that he would reveal his identity. Skywalker's fall was complete, but he was bold and brash and impulsive, good qualities when put to purpose, but in the hands of one who ran wild with raging emotion, it was a liability. Furthermore, Vader had no loyalty to the Sith. Not yet.

The Dark Side surged, the vortex of the Force drawing immeasurable power to Vader that Sidious quietly added to, and with a snarl of fury, his blood rushing with strength, Skywalker rushed at the Jedi, the Masters quickly dispersing to surround the furious fallen Jedi, and Kit Fisto jumped over the desk and placed himself protectively between the fighting and the Chancellor. This was a test, Sidious decided. An opportunity to judge the worth of Darth Vader, to see how truly powerful the apprentice was. The more he thought about it, the more Sidious liked the idea. He had been waiting for the right time, the right moment to put an end to the Jedi, the perfect opportunity to not only kill them, but their memory. The Jedi, protectors of the Republic, in league with the Separatists to kill the Chancellor, and _thank the Force_ that Anakin Skywalker, hero of the Clone Wars, was there to stop them.

Vader was still young, and despite his youth and inexperience, and in this moment, he stood to bind the Force nexus to his will. This could still be managed. He could still secure both Vader and Lumis, he would still have his Empire, and he would still destroy the Jedi Order. All the pieces had fallen into his lap, delivered by the Force itself. Too early, perhaps, but better this than none at all. And as a bonus, he had been waiting for a chance to get his hands on a Force sensitive. He needed to attempt what Lumis had accomplished.

Palpatine watched as the three Masters fought against the raw fury of the Dark Side, the Jedi to incapacitate, Vader to kill, and the difference, that slight hesitation to keep from landing a fatal blow made all the difference. Lightsabers arched in the air at blinding speeds, and with three blades against him, Vader drew his second, the green humming to life and wildly slashing. The problem was Mace Windu, the use of the fatal Vaapad allowing him to tap into the Dark Side and draw upon its powers without ever letting it touch him, and emotional Anakin was giving him all the fuel he needed.

It had to end here. Palpatine laid a nervous hand on the Nautolan's shoulder, peering around him at the fight that raged within the office, and he pressed the end of his lightsaber to Master Kit Fisto's back, the Jedi not realizing what was happening until the red blade pierced through his chest with a vicious hiss as it ignited. With a shuddering breath, the Jedi fell, and was dead before he hit the ground. The violent tremor that ran through the Force as one of their own was suddenly slain was enough to knock the other Jedi off-balance, all three gazes darting to the source of the disturbance, and eyes widening as they saw Chancellor Palpatine standing over the body of Kit Fisto, a red lightsaber in his hand and his eyes a pale, blazing yellow.

In the moment of their shock, Vader swept his lightsaber low and severed the legs of Agen Kolar, and the blue blade arched swiftly up to split the Zabrak up the middle as he fell to the ground. With gasps of physical pain as two of their members fell in the span of seconds, the remaining two Jedi drew close together and took a defensive posture, eying the Sith Master and Apprentice standing between them and their only exit. They were trapped, let to stare in astonishment at the Chancellor who ran the Republic, the kindly old man that had existed among them for _years_ , the Sith Master that the Jedi couldn't detect when they stood _right_ next to him. Darth Sidious. The one who had controlled the Jedi since the war began.

It was over, and Mace knew it, _felt_ it when the Force was suddenly torn open and darkness flooded through, so thick it was hard to breathe, so oppressive he could barely feel his connection to the Force at all. He rose his purple saber and pointed it at the Sith, Sidious calm and measured, Skywalker shivering and moaning in pleasure as the darkness filled him with intoxicating power. He was going to take as many of these Sith bastards down with him as he could. Windu stood firm and resolved, finding his focus quickly, but Saesee Tiin was not so fortunate. For a very long time, the Iktotchi had lived in this darkness, had been tortured in it, had been made to stare at the barely alive husk that was Master Eeth Koth, and though he felt he stayed strong, it had effected him deeper than he knew. Now, in the face of Darth Sidious, Master of the Sith, his mental defenses crumbled as past trauma flashed through his mind.

A moment later, and the Sith attacked. Saesee Tiin never regained his balance, and he did the best he could to fight against Vader's onslaught, the man laughing and cruel and gazing at him with glowing yellow eyes. The Sith knew the Jedi was done, and now, he was _playing_ , toying with the prey he had caught as he sliced off one horn, then the other, and only ended it when the Iktotchi, in a moment of resolve, thrust his blade forward, overextended, and lost both his hands for the effort. One swift, sweeping slash, and Vader's blue blade bit through the Jedi, severing him in half, and with only one left, he turned his yellow gaze on Mace Windu.

On reflection, Mace Windu realized, it made a great deal of sense that Darth Sidious was as fast, as athletic, as aggressive as he was, despite being an old man. The Sith apprentices strove to kill their Masters, and somehow, Obi-Wan _hadn't_ killed Sidious yet, which could only mean that this particular Sith Lord was powerful beyond his comprehension. It took the full measure of his focus to avoid the swift red blade, and for a moment, as he drew in the darkness around him to fuel him, Mace thought he might have a chance. Maybe, just for a moment, with his focus clear and balanced within the Force, the Korun could best the Lord of the Sith in single combat. This wasn't like Haruun Kal in the fight against Kenobi, where the laughing Sith had gotten in his head, had fought like a _Jedi_ to cripple his ability to draw upon the darkness necessary to fuel Vaapad. Here, his intention was clear. Here, with the real intent to kill, Mace Windu could win against Darth Sidious.

But it wasn't just the Sith Master.

Anakin's blue blade swung at Mace's head, and Windu only just barely ducked out of the way, the Jedi retreating as the Sith pursued, Skywalker laughing and yellow eyes wide with excitement, the rush of the Dark Side brought by his murders intoxicating him with power. The attack was fast and brutal, and Skywalker was fighting better than Windu had ever seen, the green and blue blades trailing light through the air as they slashed down at the Jedi in a flurry of spins, jumps and flips that characterized Anakin's highly athletic style. The boy seemed to be coming from multiple places at once, and Mace expertly maneuvered his blade to block each strike. He saw a flash of blue out of the corner to his eye off to the left, and he quickly dodged right as lightning arched through the air, striking the ground right where he had been standing a moment ago. His dark eyes quickly darted toward the Sith Master, the man chuckling in amusement as he watched the Jedi struggle.

Anakin jumped to Mace's other side, forcing the Jedi to turn and face him, and for just a moment, Windu couldn't see the Sith Master, but he could feel him. He circled his blade around Anakin's knocking the savage stab away from his chest, and Mace quickly spun around, purple blade extended as he blocked the Force lightning that Sidious aimed at him, too late to dodge out of the way, and Mace realized his mistake less than a second after he made it. He was trapped, his lightsaber occupied with protecting him from the Sith Master's lightning, and he couldn't move, lest he be electricuted. Skywalker's blue lightsaber came down on Windu's extended arm, and the Jedi Master was engulfed in lightning as his arm dropped to the ground.

One low, sweeping cut severed the Jedi's legs, and as he fell, Darth Vader brought the other blade through his remaining arm. He brought his lightsabers up, blue and green thrumming beside each other and sparking as they touched, and prepared to plunge them down when Sidious approached and commanded him to stop. Rage gripped Vader as he looked at the defeated Jedi, and try as he might, he found he couldn't bring the blades down upon the traitor, couldn't end his miserable life, and instead, found himself shutting the sabers off and kneeling, head bowed as Sidious approached.

The Master raised his hand, lifting Windu into the air with the Force, and with a growl of triumph, he closed the Dark Side around the Master, violently shattering his crumbling defenses and entered his mind. He had been dreaming of this moment for a _long_ time, and the moment got only sweeter when dear, sweet Lumis told him how to steal the Force out of a living being, and there were little in this world more abundant in the Force than Mace Windu.

The Jedi was dying. The Force was leaving him, dispersing back into the energy that surrounded them all, but Sidious followed it back deep within him, grabbed the strands of the Force and traced it back to its source in the deepest part of the Jedi's fading being. He had done this before to inflict pain, to send agony through life itself and torture a being until the Force burned right out of it. He reached out and grasped it, took it into his hands as Lumis had said, and with a deep breath, Sidious drew the power within himself. He was met with resistance, which he did not expect, and he opened his eyes and looked down at Mace Windu, his face contorted with pain, but his dark eyes fierce and defiant. With a snarl of rage, Sidious grasped the Force harder and pulled, the powerful resistance giving way as the Master ripped the life out of the Jedi and brought it into himself.

It was warm, _euphoric_ , an immediate rush of hazy, addled pleasure that rushed through him, the effects intense and immediate like a powerful drug that poisoned his blood and left him wanting for more. And then the warmth turned to fire, burning and blistering, and in Sidious' hands, the Force became _corrupted_ , the soft, white light of life turned mottled and gray as it rotted in his hands, and he could feel himself change, though instead of the rush and vibrancy of youth, he felt his skin begin to crawl, watched as his hands seemed to dry up and become wizened and pale, could feel the skin on his face becoming wrinkled and deformed. With a howl of pain and rage, Sidious let go of the Force, but it wouldn't let go of him, the rotting sludge that was once life wrapping itself around his hands, his arms, his entire body, and it threatened to drag him under. This wasn't life, this was _killing_ him, the Force itself snapping back at him for the attempt, snarling and vicious and uncompromising.

With a scream of fury, Sidious pushed outwards with the Force, the power of the blast so strong it threw bodies against walls, broke windows, sent chairs flying, and he could feel the corrosive touch of the Force release him as it was burned away. Gasping for breath, Sidious touched his face and could feel the deformity, his skin raised and wrinkled, a cruel mockery of the youth he had tried to obtain. Lumis had either lied to him, or in this aspect of the Force...Sidious lacked the talent. It was possible he had done it incorrectly, that he had missed something that Lumis had done right, but he couldn't try again. Not like this, not when another attempt very well may kill him. Cold rage filled him, his eyes narrowing in anger as he calmed his racing heart. He would find a new way to immortality, since Lumis' way didn't work. Lumis' youth was... _mocking_ him. The Force, such a difficult mistress, had finally bit him. The Force was using his dear, sweet apprentice to insult him, and there was only one thing to be done with such a slight.

"Master..." Vader gasped, quickly rushing to his Master's side and laying a caring hand upon his shoulder. "Master, what happened?"

"The final revenge of Mace Windu..." he growled softly. "It's time to end this, my apprentice. The Jedi are traitors to the Republic. They would stop you, apprehend you for killing General Grievous."

"I've long suspected they've been serving Obi-Wan," Vader said quietly. "They're infected, _corrupted_ , the lot of them. They need to be destroyed." Sidious said nothing as he walked over to his desk and pulled open one of the drawers and removed a holodisc and placed it upon the bare surface. Vader moved to follow him, but Sidious raised a hand, and the apprentice stopped in his tracks, observing the Sith Master as he opened a com channel, and shortly after, the tiny blue hologram of Darth Lumis flickered to life over the disc. Lumis' head was bowed, and when he looked up, he looked completely despondent before shock crossed his face.

" _Master_!" he hissed, and Sidious glowered at the man, bitter and angry that what worked for his youthful apprentice failed him so terribly. "What happened!"

"Never you mind that, Lumis," Sidious hissed. "What happened on Utapau." The concern fell from the youthful face, his expression blank and forlorn and lonely, and for the fleetest of moments, Anakin Skywalker felt a twinge of pity. The man was completely, hopelessly alone. The feeling faded, and he hardened again, and he felt his chest swell with glee. Soon enough, the man in the hologram would be dead, and he'd have his wife back. Soon. _Soon_.

"Grievous and Barriss are dead," Lumis whispered, and Sidious sighed in irritation, the man in the hologram wincing as he did.

"I said I needed more time, and _you_ said you could drag the war out longer! You have failed me, Lord Lumis." He sneered in disgust, but Lumis wasn't looking. "You are a _disappointment_."

"Well, that's a relief," Lumis drawled, his clipped accent affecting a lazy mein, but it failed to conceal the obvious pain he was in. "I thought I was the only one that was disappointed in me. It's nice to know I'm not just being hard on myself. _Again_."

"Your levity does you no credit," Sidious sneered, but some of his anger had faded. Lumis' personality had always been infectious. "With Grievous dead, we must move quickly. Go to Raxus and kill the Separatist leaders."

Lumis' eyes widened and his jaw fell slack, and for a moment, he was speechless. "So soon?" he asked carefully. "Master, I can drag the war out, I-"

"We are out of time," Sidious interrupted. "Put an end to the Separatists, and I will see to the execution of the Jedi. Return to Mustafar when you have completed your task and wait for me there. We will enter this new Empire together."

He started to protest, then shut his mouth and inclined his head. "As you wish, my Master." The hologram faded out, and Sidious stood and stared at the holodisc for a long while.

"Darth Vader," the Master hissed softly, and the apprentice quickly moved to Sidious' side and knelt beside him. "Go to the Jedi Temple. Bring your clone troopers with you. Catch the Jedi there off-balance and kill them all. Root out the corruption within the Republic, use their deaths to fuel your power in the Dark Side. Only then will you be strong enough to stand against Darth Lumis."

"Kill the Jedi..." Vader softly repeated. "I understand, Master."

"After that," Sidious growled, "your first real test will begin. Show me your worthiness of being my apprentice by killing Darth Lumis, and know that if you fail, there will be no saving Padmé." Vader shivered, a pitiful whimper in his throat as he bowed his head.

"It will be done, Master," Vader whispered, and a sinister smile crossed Sidious' face as he activated the holodisc, the image of a clone commander floating above it. While Lumis killed the Separatists, while Vader killed the Jedi, Chancellor Palpatine would become _Emperor_ Palpatine. Everything was in line, all the pieces in place, all the cogs in motion. All that was left to do was trip the switch.

"The time has come," Sidious said softly, slowly, _reverently_ , tasting the words that felt like victory. "Execute Order 66."


	115. Operation Nightfall

Caleb Dume flopped back on his bedroll, a holocron in his hand and a grin on his face. Life was _good_. He had only been fighting in the war for a few months, but they had been the best months of his life. Which was off for a Jedi, he supposed, but he felt that he finally found his place. Temple life was fine. Too peaceful for him, he supposed, and it let his mind wander, made him question everything, not in defiance, but because he _needed_ to know why. Why the Council did the things they did. Why the Jedi were forbidden from emotions. Why they served as warriors now when the Jedi stood for peace. Why, why, why, all the time, so much that it had made him somewhat infamous among his peers.

Which is why his Master had given him the holocron. So that he could study the place of questions and peaceful dissent within the Jedi Order, so he could rise up through the ranks and obtain mastery without the stigma of renegade, without having his motives questioned, so he could be viewed not as an upstart, but as wise. Master Billaba had said she chose him for his inquisitive nature, so there must be something to it. Perhaps her brush with the Sith Lord Kenobi made her believe the Jedi needed to change. Perhaps the raw, terrifying power of the man made her question her ways, made her realize that the Sith had changed, and so must the unchangeable Jedi. He'd have to ask about that too.

Caleb looked over at the clone captains as they sat talking and his Master, the woman sitting and silent as she meditated, and he felt a swell of pride within him to be her student. That she was even out here again was a testament to the strength of her will. What the Sith had done to her wasn't something that anyone could recover from, and not only had Depa Billaba recovered, she had returned to the war with a Padawan to keep her focused. _Everything_ was right with the world. It was where he was meant to be, out in the galaxy, fighting against evil, righting wrongs, helping to defend the innocent... _good_ work. It would be over soon, of course, but he was just happy that he had the chance to make his way.

They had liberated Kaller from Separatist control just that morning, had met with an _insufferable_ government official by noon, and that afternoon, they had gotten the news. General Grievous and Commander Offee were dead. The only real, viable threat the Separatists had left was Obi-Wan Kenobi, and while Caleb didn't underestimate the powers of the fallen Jedi, an entire war couldn't be run by _one man_. It just wasn't possible. Not when he had nothing to work with. Not when he had no General, no support, no allies, no friends. Caleb frowned as he felt a twinge of sympathy stir within him. No wonder Kenobi sat in darkness, the man was alone, had lost so much. He had heard the Masters talking when the Duchess of Mandalore died, had known that she was with child, and everyone knew who had fathered the child upon her. He had seen Quinlan Vos rant and rage against the Council in support of the Sith Lord, even before he had fallen himself. _Alone_...

As a Jedi, Caleb would never truly be alone, and he was uncertain what that was like. It must be lonely, a feeling that he had never truly felt. All he had to do was close his eyes and reach out, and the presence of a thousand Jedi brothers and sisters would surround him in the Force. Obi-Wan had been a Jedi once, so it was said, and he wondered how anyone could choose the loneliness of the Dark Side over the warmth and comfort of the light. The questions came rapidly. How had he fallen? Why had he fallen? What was the problem, where was the crack in his armor that allowed darkness to seep in? He clutched his holocron tighter and smiled as he looked upon it. He'd have to meditate on it. After he asked his Master, of course.

Caleb smiled at Commander Styles as he grabbed a flashing comlink and walked out of the light of their fire to answer it, the clone smirking gently and saluting the young teen. Caleb wondered what would become of the clones now that the war was coming to a close. Or the Separatist worlds, what would happen to them? Would they be accepted back into the Republic? Would they be punished for their part, forced to pay reparations for the damage done and the lives lost? And what of Obi-Wan Kenobi, what would happen to him?

He supposed that the Sith Lord wouldn't go down without a fight. They certainly wouldn't be able to capture him. But _what if they did_? What if they could subdue him, detain him, what would happen? Would the Republic try him for his crimes? Would the Jedi get custody of the dangerous Sith? Would they question him, interrogate him, _torture_ him? It wasn't the Jedi way, but Kenobi had caused them pain and suffering without end, and Jedi tempers had risen because of him. They may very well turn his vaulted Dark Side against him. Or could he be saved? Redeemed? Turned back to the light? And would the Jedi even try? Caleb didn't know, but to him, it seemed as though death would be the most merciful thing. Maybe he'd even get a chance to talk to the Sith Lord, though he suspected he wouldn't get any answers to his questions. Nobody would feel safe if the Negotiator was allowed to speak. Even confined, he'd have to be contained, blindfolded, and gagged for _anyone_ to feel he wasn't a threat.

He'd have to ask about it later. For now, he was simply content. Life _was_ good.

Depa Billaba suddenly shot up, her eyes wide and her lightsaber in hand, and sensing her distress, Caleb quickly scrambled to his feet as well, fumbling for his lightsaber and lighting the blue blade. "Keep close to me, Caleb, focus and don't stray," she commanded, her voice hard, and he nodded, quickly looking around to see the danger she sensed, saw the clones pointing their weapons, and quickly turned to see what they would be engaging.

_Nothing_.

There was nothing save for the thick woods behind them, and Caleb slowly looked back at the clones, his Master facing them with her lightsaber poised and raised defensively, and he realized where they were aiming. Their blasters were pointing at _them_.

"Execute the Jedi!" Commander Styles shouted, and in the next moment, the air was filled with the streaks of blaster fire as the clones, their loyal soldiers, their valuable _friends_ rained death upon the Jedi they had served with. They retreated, keeping up a defensive position as the clones relentlessly pursued, and fear kept Caleb fast, adrenaline pumping through him faster and stronger than the Force did. But fear also disrupted his focus, confusion clouded his ability to act, and more than once, Master Billaba had to step before him to deflect shots that would have slipped past his guard, shots that would have been fatal. It was too much. They were going to die. The Jedi had been betrayed, and they were going to die.

"Caleb!" Master Billaba shouted, rushing to guard him when his foot had slipped in the slick mud. "Caleb, _run_. Hide, save yourself!"

"I-I'm not leaving without you!" he stuttered, and he meant it. Run? How could he? He had felt a connection all those years ago as she lay in a bacta tank, her mind shattered with no hope of returning. He had always believed in her, had known deep inside him that she would pull through. The Force wouldn't have been so cruel to let her survive Obi-Wan, Jedi betrayer, only to have her fall to yet another betrayal, this time at the hands of her own soldiers, right? _Right_?!

She stepped before him again when he just stood there, shocked and confused, her saber trailing green in the air as she defended her student. " _Run_ ," she snapped, "or fight, but just don't stand there!"

"Y-yes, Master!" And he did. He stayed by her side and fought. Fear turned into horror as clones began to die, their shots deflected back at them or a mad rush put them too close to a lightsaber. These were his _friends_ , the people he fought beside, and he was _killing_ them! Tears began streaming down his face. This was _nothing_ like fighting droids.

"Widen the perimeter!" Commander Styles shouted. "Surround them, don't let them get away!" Out in the shadows, Caleb could see the clones moving to do as they were told, rushing to flank them, then surround them.

"There's too many of them," Depa said, her voice strong and firm and fearless, and Caleb never admired her more than he did right then. "Soon they'll cut off any escape. Caleb, this is a battle we cannot win." She looked at him then, his beloved Master, and _smiled_. "You need to run." She turned away from him, her lightsaber raised and moving to defend him. "Go. I'll be right behind you."

She was _lying_ to him. Caleb could feel it. It was the first time she had ever lied to him...and Caleb turned and ran anyway, his face streaming with tears as he realized what that meant. He scrambled up the nearby hill toward the thick forest beyond, his feet slipping in the slick mud and grass, his lightsaber in hand moving almost as if on its own as it knocked back the shots that were fired at him. He could hear the clones shouting to concentrate fire on the Padawan, to not let him escape, to shoot him down, _execute him_ , and with burning lungs and a heart that was pounding in his throat, he made it to the top of the hill and locked back just in time to see Master Depa Billaba get gunned down by her own men, the clones standing over her body and unloading their blasters into her already still corpse. They were shouting, running, coming after him. Caleb Dume shut off his lightsaber, rushed into the forest, and didn't look back again.

* * *

The Dark Side roared around him, howling in triumph as the light was extinguished, the ripples of what had been done heralding the coming of night, and Obi-Wan had never felt so powerful. Once, long ago, the Dark Side had seduced him, not just with power but with the intoxicating rush of euphoria that rushed through his blood like an intoxicant, a drug, _a poison_ , beautiful and addicting and orgasmic in its intensity. And like any addiction, the longer he stayed in darkness, the more it took to make him feel as good as he had the first time. More darkness, more blood, more murder, more manipulation, more _dominance_ , more beings to fall submissive and obedient at his feet, and it was never enough. In time, it became difficult to feel it without Sidious' touch in his mind, and these days, he never felt it at all. Grief had put the hole in him, and madness had burned away his need to feel that bliss at all.

But he felt it now.

Kenobi rested one hand on the flight console before him and the other covered his eyes as he moaned, his body desperate and aching for contact like it hadn't since his Satine was murdered. Passion gave way quickly to lust, filling the void within him with a boiling need for power, for death, for a body beneath him to take him within them, willing or not. It was an addiction that couldn't be sated, one that he didn't know he still had, and all of it brought on by the darkness that came from the deaths of the Jedi. Even Yoda likely lay dead, the Jedi, not the rancor, his warning heeded too late, sidious' revenge occurring too fast, but it didn't matter to Kenobi. He had been waiting for this moment. The ultimate revenge of the Sith, the howling of the Force as it plunged into darkness, the extinguishing of the light, the end of the stale and stagnant Jedi, those pitiful wretches that never knew how weak, how _corrupted_ they had become...

So why did it feel so... _wrong_?

Something was off in the Force. Something that went beyond the tears caused by the deaths of a thousand Jedi. This wasn't _about_ the Jedi, this was about Darth Sidious. Something had gone wrong with his Master, something had _happened_ to him to change him physically. He _saw_ it, felt his displeasure in the Force, and that's when the feeling began. He had wanted more time, and it was suddenly gone. _Something_ had forced him to execute Order 66. But _what_.

"You know," Cody drawled next to him, the clone tied tightly in the copilot's seat, "if you keep moaning like that, I think I'm going to get pregnant." He flashed Kenobi a wide, pleased grin when the Sith looked at him with eyes so dilated, the only thing that could be seen was a thick, red rim around wide black pupils. "Unless...that was your intent when you tied me up, my love..." He shrugged and laughed softly when Kenobi sneered at him. "It would be _really_ awkward to explain that to your twins, sir."

"You know why I did what I did, Cody," Obi-Wan whispered, a slight smile on his lips as he leaned back, shut his eyes, and dove deep into the Dark Side, sinking to the bottom of its depths in an attempt to clear his mind of the intense high he felt, but it did little good. Even here, the currents of the Force were strongly pulling at him. If he was feeling the effects of the dying of the light so strongly, he could only imagine how powerful Darth Sidious had become. "Think how bad you would feel if you shot me in the head."

"I don't _feel_ any different, sir," Cody said firmly. "The order is in effect, isn't it? When will we know if I'm safe?" It was a real concern what would happen to his clones when the order was executed. There was a possibility that the biochip implanted in their brains before birth would activate the clone initiative, but faithful Cody was experiencing _none_ of the symptoms that he observed way back when he first turned the 212th Attack Battalion into the Shadow Legion. More likely than not, his manipulations had not already tripped the order, but disrupted the biochip entirely. Obi-Wan tightened his fist in the air, and the bindings that held the clone snapped.

"We should have removed those biochips," Kenobi growled as he grasped the controls and eased the _Umbra_ out of hyperspace, the blue and white fading as the stars snapped back into place, and beautiful Raxus hung in space before them.

"Speaking of which..." Cody drawled as he rubbed his wrist. "My boys that infiltrated the 501st said one of their captains discovered the truth about the clones."

"Did they shoot him?"

Cody shook his head. "No, it seems him and a small group of his fellows had something of a panic about it and went looking for a way to disable it."

"Did they tell anyone?" Cody just shrugged. "Maybe that's why my Master executed the order so suddenly. It's unlike him to be so hasty. This feels like something in his plans went wrong and he had no choice. Exposing what the clones are designed to do would destroy all his plans. Someone must have been close."

"So what happens now?" Cody asked, and Kenobi leaned back in his seat and took a deep breath to calm himself and bring the roaring Dark Side back into his control. It effortlessly did his bidding, the ferocious beast's roars quieting into gentle purrs as it curled up around him, a dragon of smoke and flames that grew supplicant under his touch.

"Now, my Master will take control of the Senate, abolish the Republic, and establish the Empire. With the Jedi destroyed, there will be nobody to oppose him. By now, the droids have been deactivated, so the only army that remains it the clone army."

"And the Mandalorians," Cody said softly, and a slight smile tugged at the edge of Kenobi's lips, but it was hollow.

"Yes..." he said softly. "And the Mandalorians, provided Bo-Katan did as you two discussed."

Cody grinned and threw his hand up in a mock salute. "All hail the Empire! Peaceful Mandalore honors the glorious regime that ended the Clone Wars!" He groaned as he stood, and chuckled as he adjusted the blasters strapped to his leg and him, and checked that his lightsaber was secure on his belt on his lower back, the ship slipping into the atmosphere of Raxus and swiftly heading toward the capital. "While the warriors retreat into their territory, Hutt Space is too big and too wild, and Jabba is willing to provide cover in exchange for protection."

Kenobi frowned. He didn't like working with a Hutt, and he _really_ didn't like Mandalore sacrificing glory for safety, but he had little choice. Sidious' first order of business would be to destroy anything that could stand in opposition to him, and another Empire would be unacceptable. The only thing to do was give Hutt Space back to the Hutts and rule from the shadows. As he had always done. As the Sith had _always done_. Until he was ready, until Sidious lay dead, the name of the game was survival.

He brought the ship down to the palace, the hangar open and expecting his arrival, and when he had landed and powered down the engines, he gripped the control console, his eyes closed and his hands shaking, the feel of the Dark Side again rushing through him like wine and spice and sex. This was...a very dangerous state to be in, control so very difficult to maintain, the _will_ to maintain control slipping away like water through his fingers. It would have been so easy, so _satisfying_ , so liberating, to just let go, let the Dark Side take him away, the rush of power and perverse pleasure washing away all the pain, the grief, all his losses...

"My Lord?" Cody asked softly, laying a hand on the Sith's back and feeling his shoulders tremble, his back expand and contract with fast, ragged breaths. "Are you alright?" The Sith Lord nodded, but said nothing else, and Cody frowned. He was _not_ alright. "I can go in there and take out the garbage, if you like."

"This is my task, Cody, Lord Sidious gave the task to me." Cody frowned even deeper. Kenobi had often described the Dark Side as a drug, as a fickle mistress, as a wanton whore in an attempt to explain the Force to a man who could not feel it. If any of that were true, then Obi-Wan had just gotten a massive dose, had taken her against the wall at a party, had an orgy with _all_ her friends. And Darth Sidious was his dealer. Her jealous husband. _The brothel owner_. Power came at a price, and it had to be paid to Sidious, the man who would be Emperor. Obi-Wan talked about killing him, about breaking away, but Cody was worried about his ability to do it, especially when the Master seemed to be overwhelmingly strong, and would now be only stronger. The bond between Master and Apprentice, it seemed, ran deep. Something needed to break it, and it needed to break soon, or Cody would die trying to find a way to free his Lord. His King. _His friend_.

"Is all... _this_ ," Cody said, almost spat, "because of what is happening?" Kenobi slowly nodded, his breathing slowly evening under the clone's touch, drawing steady strength from the stalwart man.

"The completion of the Sith Imperative..." he muttered. "The revenge against the Jedi, the rise of the Empire, the fulfilment of the will of the Force...it's _intoxicating_."

"Can Sidious control you like this?" Obi-Wan sucked in a sharp breath and held it, his hands gripping the console tightly. He could, and Kenobi knew it. Stay close enough to Sidious, and he could easily fall under his sway, especially now when the Force ran black. Close himself off to the Master, and he could simply pry him open again. Maybe he was strong enough to resist now. Maybe he would be strong enough when he grew used to the rush of power that now fueled the Sith, when the pleasure dulled, when the euphoria waned. But that was the plan, wasn't it? When he was strong enough, kill Darth Sidious. Rule by his side until then, learn all he could, grow stronger under his guidance, and when the time was right, and _only_ then, strike him down.

_Unless he chooses Skywalker_.

The feeling returned, the deep unease, the feeling of wrongness, and Kenobi pushed it aside, pushed _everything_ aside and focused instead on the bleeding wounds that lay within him.

_Satine. His son. Quinlan. Ventress. Grievous. Barriss_.

It became something of a mantra, a calming chant that cleared the haze in his mind, sank him down deep within pain and past even that until numbness began to set in. He was ready, sure of foot and clear of focus, and he stood, placing a hand on his lightsaber and heading toward the boarding ramp.

"Come with me," he whispered, and with a nod, Cody followed him out of the ship, across the hangar, and into the palace. The walked slowly and in silence, the Sith calm and focused in cold and bitter rage, the fire and passion in his blood turned to cold and frigid anger as he focused on the grief that fueled his power, not on the euphoria that resulted from it. A short time later, the doors hissed open, and Kenobi and Cody stepped inside a large conference room, the Separatist Council sitting around the table that occupied the expansive space, and as he entered, the Council rose from their seats.

"My Lord," Nute Gunray said, his voice quivering with fear. "Lord Sidious said we are to surrender. The war is over, and we will be left in peace."

It was funny, really, but Obi-Wan didn't laugh. "Cody, seal the doors." His eyes slowly roved the room, taking in the surroundings more than the nervous occupants. The doors through which they entered was the only way in or out. It was a dead end, as it were, and that thought _did_ make Kenobi laugh, his soft, melodic chuckle amplified by the large, vaulted ceiling, the whirring of the doors as the locking mechanism engaged sounding right before the hiss and thrum of lightsabers filled the air.

"I would have you all know that I take no pleasure in this," Kenobi said softly, slowly advancing upon the nine terrified members of the Separatist Council, the tip of his red blade dragging upon the ground and leaving a train of sparks and molten metal in its wake. "Except for you, Gunray. I _will_ take immense satisfaction in your death."

The rest was just screams and begging and pleading and the mad rush of a people with no means to defend themselves as lightsabers bit through them, cutting holes and gashes and severing limbs, bodies hitting the walls when thrown by the Force, other hanging in the air from nothing at all as they writhed in pain or choked. There was no challenge, no satisfaction to be had here, no strength to be drawn from the limbs and heads of the weak as they fell lifeless and bloody to the floor. Obi-Wan wasn't even present as he slaughtered them, was deaf to their crying and attempts to bargain or seek understanding.

Instead, he thought of Grievous, the cyborg he hated for a long time, had come to respect as a commander, if not a warrior, a man of dauntless ambition who sacrificed his body for betterment, gave up his frail organic form for a body faster, stronger than he ever could have had on his own. He thought of Barriss, a girl he had first seen when she was but a child, and he was still a Jedi. A girl that grew into darkness on her own, and one that he had been swift to rescue from death at the hands of the Republic.

They were both dead now. Obi-Wan grieved them, certainly, but he was less upset than he thought he would be. So little mattered now. Their deaths certainly made it easier for him to cut through the defenseless Separatist Council. If they, a General and a Dark Jedi, could die so easily, what did it matter if these insignificants should fall? What did the lives of Po Nudo and Senator Tikkes matter when Grievous died like he was nothing at all? Why should Shu Mai and Passel Argente live when Barriss Offee lay dead? Darth Lumis thought of Quinlan Vos when his red blade sliced through San Hill's elongated Muun cranium, when the darksaber struck open Wat Tambor's pressurized suit and drove through the green skin of his fragile, exposed body. He thought of his son, who had died inside his dying mother as swiftly slicing blades cut Poggle the Lesser into pieces before he even hit the ground, as he watched Rune Haako's red eyes melt under the heat of lightsabers as they thrust through his skull.

And Satine, dear, sweet, _suffering_ Satine, his first failure, was with him as he lifted Nute Gunray into the air and choked the life from him. If she couldn't live, why should this worm, why should _anybody_.

Obi-Wan only stopped when he heard Cody calling for him, and he looked to find Gunray not just choked, but pulled to pieces, the pallid green of Neimoidian blood splattered all over the floor and a nearby wall. As he caught his breath and calmed his racing heart, he reached out to soothe the Dark Side away from its cold fury, and moments later, he was in control again.

"You alright, sir?" Cody asked softly, approaching the Sith Lord with caution, and Obi-Wan ran a hand through his hair, a look of disgust on his face as he surveyed the mess.

"I can't lose anyone else, Cody," he said firmly, his voice filled with steel and resolve, unwavering in its conviction. "I've lost _so much_ , I can't do this again."

"You won't have to, sir," Cody said, a small smile on his face. "And it will please you to know that your mistress had reached out to Bail Organa. Seems like she can have the twins on Alderaan." The Sith Lord started to protest, but the clone quickly cut in with, "Sir, _nowhere_ is going to be safe. Sidious will hunt for Padmé, and when they're born, he'll hunt for her children too. You _know_ he will. She's important to Skywalker, and the twins are important to _you_. He'll sense it, and he'll use that against you, just as he always has."

"At my Master's side," Kenobi calmly explained, "I can protect everything I care about. When Sidious joins me on Mustafar, he and I will establish a new Empire, I'll kill Skywalker to solidify my place as apprentice, and with him dead, Padmé loses all value to him. She can just...fade away into obscurity on Alderaan while I focus on killing my Master."

"...and if Sidious doesn't choose you?" Cody asked calmly, and Obi-Wan tensed.

"...I'll think of something." His task here was done, in any case, and he was wasting time. He rushed out of the room with Cody close on his heels and they quickly made their way to the _Umbra_. If he was fast, he could make it back to Mustafar before Sidious arrived and pack up everything important to him and send them off to Alderaan, at least for a time. There would be time to work things out on the way back, but he couldn't shake the feeling of unease he felt as he boarded his ship and left for Mustafar.

* * *

The Jedi were not, as Sidious had said, caught off-guard.

Anakin had been displeased from the very beginning, the swell of strength he felt only fueled by his quickly growing anger. His Master had been angry when he had sent him off to kill the Jedi, though Anakin sensed that a great deal of the anger wasn't directed at him, but elsewhere.

" _Evidence_!" Sidious had snarled at him before he left. " _Lumis wouldn't have been so careless_!" It was an insult, Anakin knew, and had been meant as such, and it only strengthened his resolve to kill Kenobi. First, though, he had to kill the Jedi. _All of them_. Pawns of the Sith, corrupted from within, every single one must be destroyed to ensure that the contagion didn't resurface in the future, that all traces of poisonous Kenobi had been wiped out completely. The parents that had birthed him were dead. His friends, his allies, his vile spawn and his Mandalorian slut, all dead. All that was left were the Jedi and the man himself.

When he arrived at the barracks, the 501st was armed to the teeth and ready to serve, ready to follow their commander, ready to execute the Jedi on sight. Rex wasn't there, and _that_ had rankled Anakin. The fool clone must have still been on Kamino investigating what had gone wrong with Fives. It was no matter. He had the rest of the mighty force, and there were _thousands_ of them. One clone, no matter how valuable, wouldn't be missed. The marched up the steps of the Jedi Temple under the cover of night, the rhythmic pounding of thousands of armored feet all in step behind him as Darth Vader drew closer and closer to the top of the steps, to the grand entrance to the Temple, to the deaths of the thousands that were inside. They were to be caught off their guard, taken by surprise, unaware that their plans had been uncovered, that their treason had been revealed, that their crimes were now to be punished.

And when Anakin came into the Temple with an army at his back, he was met by a hundred Jedi Temple Guards.

_Someone_ had warned them.

His rage spiked, and taking both his lightsabers in hand, Vader exploded with fury heedlessly slashing at the Jedi Guards as the clones opened fire, each death fueled his hatred, each time his strikes were warded away, his hatred grew, and within minutes, the Dark Side was so powerful within him, so fierce, that he felt like _nothing_ could stop him. And nothing could. One by one, the guards fell, the constant barrage of blaster fire and the swift, deadly blades too much, even for them, and yet the fight dragged on, far longer than Vader anticipated, far longer than he would have liked. But in the end, even the most stalwart succumbed, even the strongest fell before his blades, and when the Jedi lay dead, Vader couldn't help but laugh, made and drunk with the power of it all.

He continued on through the Temple, the clones rushing forward to deal with any threat they saw, and Jedi they found trying to run, anything living that Vader didn't rush for first. Their boots echoed in the halls as they went, screams bouncing off the walls, the roar of blasters deafening, and slowly, Vader cut his way through every elderly Master too old to serve, every knight returned to find some peace from the war, every Padawan that foolishly thought they could stand before him, every initiate that fancied themselves a hero, and every confused youngling, uncertain of what to do in the absence of the Masters. All of them fell before his blade, young and old, without mercy, without pity. What would these children do anyway? Without the Jedi, these children were orphans, abandoned by parents to the cold, uncaring arms of the Jedi, and now, they were all gone. Killing them was a mercy, though Vader felt none as he cut his way through them.

The path they cut through the Temple was a slow one. There were stragglers all over, yes, those that tried to run, those that tried to fight, but mostly, there were Jedi Temple Guards. They never rushed at them, never attacked, merely stood their ground and defended, cold and calm and resolved. None of them survived, but none of the fights were easy either, and by the time Vader had reached the heart of the Temple, by the time he and his thousands of clones had swept through, hundreds of Jedi lay dead. Hundreds, when there should have been _thousands_.

Most of the Jedi were out of the Temple, of course, fighting in a war they didn't know was over, dying in a blaze of pain and betrayal, a fitting end for traitors. Nearly all the Knights, all the Masters able to fight, every single Padawan, all deployed to the Outer Rim Sieges, so their absence was accounted for. The Jedi Temple Guards lay dead by the hundreds as did foolishly brave or rightfully frightened initiates. But the younglings... _the younglings_...

The younglings were _gone_. Not all gone, of course. There had been rooms full, several dormitories crowded by the terrified things, but in the final accounting, less than half of the thousand Jedi children lay dead. Vader could feel rage, hot and painful, pulse within him, his pace growing faster as he strode through the Temple with renewed vigor. They hadn't searched the entirety of the massive compound just yet. If they were there, they would find them, and if not...

Clones roamed the city in search of Jedi. Where could a confused and scared Jedi child turn to? They would be hunted down and killed. It was only a matter of time. Soon, his task would be done. Soon, Vader would fly to Mustafar to put an end to Darth Lumis. Sidious had sent Kenobi back home to Mustafar where he still had things he may wish to defend, where his focus may be divided were his final possessions threatened. It was the only advantage the Master could give Vader, but it wasn't his _only_ advantage. He wasn't riddled by grief like Kenobi was, his mind hadn't been torn apart by insanity, and Darth Vader was fighting for something too. He was fighting for _Padmé_. And nothing would keep him from that. Kenobi no longer had such a powerful motivator, not anymore.

His lightsaber cut through more Jedi as he passed, too old to be younglings, too young to be Padawans. Their training didn't matter. Their _age_ didn't matter. They would die all the same. The Jedi would die, Padmé would be saved, and Obi-Wan Kenobi would be slain. Tonight, it would all be over.

* * *

Ahsoka awoke to the sound of screams, to the tugging of the Force upon her mind, to the oppressive weight of the Dark Side upon her, filling her head with more pain than the shoulder that was healing. She knew this feeling. She felt it on the _Enigma_ when Plo Koon was killed. When Master Quinlan was slaughtered. When Anakin Skywalker took the ship by storm and killed _everyone_. Even her. _Especially_ her. The lone survivor of a cruel fate that sacrifice had allowed her to avoid. She jumped to her feet, wincing in pain as she hit the ground, but it was reflexive. She felt no pain. Only the rush of adrenaline and the Force and something beyond terror pounding in her head. She had to get out. She had to survive. It's what he Master wanted, what her Master _commanded_ , his final directive to her before he was slain.

So she ran, fast as her legs could carry her, away from the sounds of shooting and screaming and lightsabers thrumming and clashing, but the sounds echoed through the vastness of the Temple, seeming to come from everywhere at once, fear and confusion doing nothing to help her muddled senses. She placed her hands to her auditory canals, picked a direction and ran, ignoring the pounding of her heart in her head and the shock of her bare feet upon the cold ground with each step she took.

She saw the clones first, the distinctive colors of the 501st upon their armor, their blasters raised and shooting, and she rushed toward them, longing for help from the soldiers she had served with so often before. She came to a swift, silent stop, her feet burning as she slid, when she saw the clones firing at a group of initiates, _children_ not yet old enough to see battle or death, lightsabers clutched in their hands as they tried to defend themselves, their fear and panic making them easy prey for the ruthless clones. Ahsoka dashed to a nearby wall and plastered herself to it, holding her breath when she found she couldn't breathe silently, standing still in the shadows as the clones began to fan out and look for more Jedi. Silently, she inched along the wall, felt it turn sharply into another passage, and she ducked around the corner and ran.

She didn't know how far she went, had no concept of the passage of time, but the Temple had never felt so large, so dark, so _frightening_ , and she was quickly turned around. _Where_ was the way out? There were many exits, why couldn't she find a single one? She ducked into countless passageways and hallways and rooms, rushing through some of them and ignoring the dead upon the ground, immediately turning away from others when she saw clones on the opposite end, and her legs nearly gave out from under her when she heedlessly dashed down a hallway and was met by the cold, expressionless masks of a line of Temple Guardians, the hilts of their double bladed lightsabers clutched unlit in their hands. Ahsoka swiftly turned to run from them too, fearful and untrusting of anything and everyone, but one had quickly reached out to wrap his hand firmly around her wrist, and she clapped her free had over her mouth to keep herself from sobbing.

But the end didn't come. No lightsabers hissed to life, no one moved to execute a fatal strike, to leave her for dead as she had seen so many Jedi on the ground that night. He simply pulled her back, the others parting to allow her past, and then he let go, the line closing back up when she stood behind them.

"Go," he said, his voice calm and cold and resolute. "Master Yoda is waiting."

Nothing more was said, and for a moment, Ahsoka just stood there and stared stupidly at their backs, the Guardians still as statues as they did their duty, and in a daze of fear and weariness, Ahsoka Tano walked down the hallway, her feet dragging against the floor when she lacked the strength to lift them. It felt...calmer here, she thought. Dark, yes, but there were no bodies here, no carbon scoring on the walls from plasma rounds, no thrumming of lightsabers, no screams, no dying. Not yet, in any case.

When she entered the room at the end of the passage, her heart nearly stopped as she looked upon a group of Jedi younglings, perhaps fifty of them and not a single one older than seven, from the look of it. They stood huddled together, creatures from a dozen different species, big eyes wide and filled with terror, the older ones carrying much smaller ones in their arms, and Ahsoka felt cold wash over her. They were all going to die. The Temple was crawling with people that wanted them dead, and while the room they stood in wasn't a dead end, it may as well have been. They had been herded here, had fallen back to this place with the Guardians to protect them, but that wouldn't be enough. The thought left her immediately when a soft rapping upon the hard stone of the floor drew her attention, and she swiftly turned her head to look down at the small, diminutive Yoda, the creature looking more weary than she had ever seen him, but a small smile came to his lips when he looked upon her.

"Ahsoka Tano," he said softly. "Good to see you, it is."

_So_ many questions rushed through her, so much fear and doubt and grief, and the only thing she managed to gasp was, "What are you doing here!" He smiled at her, so gently it almost hurt, and she could feel her fears leave her just from being in his presence.

"Warning, I had, about the end of the Jedi," he said quietly, _sadly_. "Steps, I have taken, to save what I could." He frowned and looked away, his ears lowering. "But time, I did not have. Too quickly, this has happened."

"This is my fault," Ahsoka gasped. "I gave the proof against Anakin to the Council, _I did this_!" Yoda's stick clattered to the floor, and he grasped the Togruta's hand between his, and with a shuddering sob, Ahsoka fell to her knees and silently began to cry.

"More complete, the Sith's plans may have been, if more time, they had as well, hmm?" He shrugged softly. "Dwell not on what could have been, Ahsoka. In the present, you must be."

"We're going to die," she gasped, and Yoda's hands tightened around hers.

"Perhaps," he said softly. "But friends, the Jedi have. With Luminara, I worked, to save the younglings. Not all," he frowned, "but some."

" _Save them_ ," she gasped. " _How_. The streets are crawling with the Coruscanti Guard, and they are _all clones_. Have they turned against us as well? What chance do children have against that!" This time, faster than she could see, Yoda's stick suddenly flew to his hand and struck her in the head.

"A _chance_ , we have given them," Yoda rasped. "Turned, the clones have, against the Jedi. But hope, the younglings have, where none, there was. Orphans, they are, in need of relief, and a friend to orphans of war is Bail Organa. A friend to orphans is Mandalore." Ahsoka's eyes widened in sudden understanding, and she stared at him for a long while, gasping in disbelief.

" _Obi-Wan_ ," she whispered. "Obi-Wan warned you, you're working with him." This time, she smiled, warm and genuine and bright. These children were being shepherded as _refugees_. It may not work, they may be caught and killed, but there wasn't much to distinguish these children as Jedi, not when they had barely been trained, not among the tens of thousands she had helped in her work with the relief programs. Mandalore had a history of adoption, and they had taken in _thousands_ of children orphaned because of the war, so many now with new families, so many that were being now trained in the art of the fierce combat of the Mandalorians. This wasn't just good will. This was an _army_. This could work.

"The last of the younglings, these are," Yoda said softly. "Save them, we must. To Luminara, to Bail Organa, we must deliver them." The screams returned, the sounds of lightsabers igniting and clashing echoed down the hall, and Yoda's hand trembled. "Out of time, we are," he muttered. "Guide them safely, you must, Ahsoka." He let go of her hand and stood to face the hallway, and Ahsoka stood, her legs stronger than they had been, the burning in her chest replaced by cool, calm resolve.

"No," the Togruta said firmly. "I don't know where they're going, and there's no time to explain it to me. You take them." She looked down the hall so she didn't need to look at Yoda, but she could feel his eyes on her. She could see the blue blade cutting down the Temple Guardians, could occasionally catch a glimpse of Anakin's face, the glow of his yellow eyes. "They'd have no chance with me. At least with you, we _know_ they'll survive." Still, Yoda didn't move, and she clenched her jaw tightly. "Master Yoda, _please_ ," she said desperately. "Good people died to save me, and it wasn't worth it, but it _will be_ if I can keep Anakin from getting to you and these children. Go. There I think there's only one person in this galaxy that Anakin wants dead more than me, and he's not here. I'll keep him busy long enough for you to escape."

Yoda reached up and grabbed her hand, but she didn't look at him. She didn't need to. She was right, and he knew it. Perhaps Yoda could kill Anakin, but one death wouldn't make up for the deaths of the fifty children in the room who would certainly die if he stood to hold his ground. The Jedi were done. All that was left to do was save the remains.

"May the Force be with you, Ahsoka Tano," Yoda said softly, and he let go of her hand, turning to quietly usher the younglings into one of the adjacent rooms to hide while Ahsoka cleared them a path. She took a shaking breath as she looked over her options. They weren't good, but if she could lead them down the hallway opposite of where Yoda had hidden the children...she frowned. That wasn't good enough, that hallway led nowhere she hadn't been before, nowhere but to the dead and the clones that hunted for the Jedi. If-

" _Ahsoka_." She winced, her eyes quickly looking down toward where the line of the Temple Guardians lay dead, and Anakin Skywalker stood, eyes blazing and lightsaber in hand, and she could feel the wrath pouring off of him. The hallway would have to do. Without a second look back, Ahsoka ran, as fast as her legs could carry her, her new determination, her new focus strengthening her connection with the Force and giving her strength and speed she never had before. She could hear Anakin howling in rage, commanding the clones to not let her escape, not to let her out of their sight, to focus their efforts on her, to catch her no matter the cost.

She never looked back. She didn't need to. She could hear hundreds of pounding feet behind her, could feel bursts of plasma flying around her, could hear the thrum of Anakin's lightsaber as he followed, could feel the weight of the Force being thrown around her as Skywalker used everything he could to slow her mad dash, but she always managed to keep one step ahead. The Force was guiding her every action, every reaction, every move, every step, and with her focus returned to her, she found her way through the Temple, her feet light and swift and now, _remarkably_ , putting distance _between_ her and the furious Skywalker. _Survive, Ahsoka,_ she told herself _, at all costs._

For as long as she could, in any case. She knew she wouldn't survive. Maybe she could get away from Anakin Skywalker, but there was no escaping the clones, the soldiers that swarmed the streets of Coruscant, not when Skywalker was on her like this. She might be able to lose herself in the city, for a time, but with Anakin after her, there was no avoiding it. She was going to die. But she was going to make Anakin _work for it_.

She burst out of the Temple, leaping down entire flights of stairs at a time, the shock of the landing rushing through her body, and Anakin's screaming following her as she disappeared into the city. She ducked and dashed through streets and alleyways, panic gripping her as she ran into patrols of clones, their weapons raised as they hunted for Jedi that tried to escape, and she wondered how many of the children had actually managed to get away. She would have killed the clones that stood in her way if fighting wouldn't have slowed her down, if a trail of bodies wouldn't have led directly to her, if she didn't have the raging howling of a Sith Lord echoing through the desolate streets as he hunted her, blind but persistent in his fury. She could hear the clanking of armor as they closed in on her, as they honed in on her location. It would be over soon, but the longer she ran, the longer she fought, the greater chance that Yoda had to guide the younglings to safely. This was what Plo Koon and Quinlan's death had bought. The lives of children and the hope for the survival of _something_ that once was, and that was enough.

She skidded around a corner and shot down the narrow alleyway, and she barreled right into the cold, white and blue armor of a clone, and she fell to the ground, hissing in pain and dazed from the impact. She tried to rise, but found she couldn't. Fear had left her, but so had her strength. This was how she died, and she accepted it. Jaw clenched and eyes narrowed in defiance, she looked up at the helmet of the clone commander that stood before her, weapon in hand, the blue pauldron of office over his shoulder, the distinctive blue markings on his helmet that distinguished him from his millions of brothers. She knew this clone and the squad that stood behind him. Rex, Anakin's personal commander. She had fought beside him before, and she wouldn't look away now.

Rex reached out, and gently took her by the hand, and said not a word as clones in his squad surrounded them.


	116. The Fires of Mustafar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit you guys. Here it is. All we've got left is the epilogue, and this thing is DONE. I honestly can't believe it. Extra super long, for your reading pleasure. Please, do enjoy. This one was rough to write.

The fortress palace of Mustafar, dangerous and foreboding, was easy to get to with the right access codes. The shields lowered for the Republic, now _Imperial_ shuttle, and it sped for the landing bay, setting down gently within the exposed hangar, and with a hiss of the boarding ramp, Darth Vader stalked from the ship. His footsteps echoed throughout the room, his ship the only other docked there, to his displeasure. He had hoped to find the _Umbra_ , Kenobi's personal ship, a sleek vessel of red and black that was as fast as it was dangerous, and as a pilot, Vader was eager to get his hands on it. Just another of the many things that he would steal from Kenobi before he killed him.

The Jedi were dead. He could feel it in the Force through the triumphant howls of the Dark Side, could feel it in his blood as power rushed through him, could feel his strength grow, his connection with darkness deepen with each Jedi he slew. He hadn't known it could be so intoxicating, so _pleasurable_ to embrace the full power of the Force, to allow the Dark Side in and let it rage through him, to let his thoughts and mind be consumed with lust for the power that murder and rage brought. It was no wonder that Yoda had always said that there is no returning from the Dark Side. It felt _good_ , a pleasure long denied him finally released, a drug said by the Jedi to be poison to warn children away from taking it, but what did the Jedi know? The Jedi were dead. Even Master Yoda had to have perished on whatever world he was fighting on, struck down by betrayal, as was fitting for the traitorous Jedi.

He had seen Sidious, _his Master_ , as he was preparing to address the Senate and reveal the Jedi's treachery and declare the Republic victory in the war. He didn't know anything else, because nothing else mattered but Padmé and Obi-Wan, and finally, _finally_ , Sidious had given him permission to go to Mustafar to save his little wife from that _viper_. His Master had instructed him briefly on how best to defeat the rival apprentice, explained that Lumis was, as Vader well knew, a master of mental manipulation, and he was not to be listened to, even for a moment. Insanity burned in his mind like a fever, a thing that he ferociously struggled with, and while madness made him powerful, it also made him wild and unbalanced, and this was how Vader would defeat him. By forcing the man to lose a grip on his fragile sanity by destroying what he had left. Which was why Sidious had sent him _right_ into his home.

Of course, it wasn't all friendly advice, wasn't all a reminder that Vader was, and always had been, a greater presence in the Force than Lumis, possessed a greater potential than the other Sith Lord. He had also reminded him that Lumis was a refined, elegant tool, a knife with a fine edge that cut so thin, so deep, that the wound wasn't visible until it was too late, that blood didn't appear until the fatal artery was nicked, while Vader was a rough and jagged vibroblade, one that ripped and tore through flesh and bone with ease, but made a terrible mess in the process. Before, Sidious had sneered about the mistake he had made, the evidence that he had left behind that allowed his crimes to be exposed, the Sith Master to be revealed, and forced all his careful plans to be executed prematurely. Lumis would _never_ be so careless, and the scolding had rankled Vader and only made his deep hatred for Obi-Wan grow.

Which was why, when he had stormed the Jedi Temple and saw Ahsoka Tano, all he saw was the loose end he had left behind, the _mistake_ that he would soon correct, and in that moment, nothing else mattered. He deployed the entire 501st Legion to seek out and destroy the girl, no matter the cost, and when she had disappeared into the streets of Coruscant, he had commanded the Coruscanti Guard to hunt her down and kill her. Within moments, thousands of clones were searching for a single girl, a lone Jedi lost and alone on a planet with no friends, no plan, no hope, and when one of the clone officers delivered a lightsaber to Darth Vader, he recognized the hilt instantly, felt recognition in the green thrum of the blade. _Ahsoka_. Her lightsaber, the weapon delivered to the officer by the soldiers that had killed her and dropped the body down one of the large pits leading deep to the lower levels of the planet.

Hers wasn't the only death that made him feel the rush of pleasure, the euphoric pulsing of power within him as it grew far, far beyond anything he had ever felt. He felt like how the spice addicts in the lower levels of the city looked, hazy and dependent as his body craved more power, _greater_ power as he drank in the Force until he could take no more, but he kept going, kept drinking, the walls of the dam shattering under the pressure as it tried to hold him back. He was _free_ , the wrath of the Force running away with him, wild and uncontrolled and fueled by death and darkness. In this, his Master had given him another advantage over Lumis. Poor Kenobi had only gone to kill _nine_ that night, while Vader had killed _hundreds_ , each death granting more power, each life stolen rising him higher. He was... _invincible_. There would be no stopping him, not now, and not ever.

The Dark Side on Mustafar was _thick_ , hung heavy in the air like the viscous lava that flowed in the rivers around the palace, and Vader could feel his head swimming as his blood saturated with the Force, wild and untamed, it's smooth, seductive voice licking at his ears and echoing in his mind, demanding things of him that he longed, _ached_ to give it. He walked into the darkened halls of the palace, standing still to hear something, _anything_ other than the beating of his own heart and the roar of the Dark Side, but there was nothing. All he could sense were the clouds of darkness that were drawn to him, a nexus in the Force like a whirlpool that drew in all that came within reach. He was _power_ , and nothing but, and there was no need for sight when _nothing_ could harm him.

A deafening roar split the air as he entered another of the winding corridors of the palace's lower levels, and he quickly drew his lightsaber, the blue blade lighting the hallway and reflecting off the large, black eyes of a rancor. _Kenobi's pet_. Vader grinned in sinister delight. _This_ was why his Master had sent him to Obi-Wan's home, his terrifying holdout. This would be where he kept everything he held dear, everything he treasured, everything the covetous Sith kept as his own. Padmé would be here. Padmé _was_ here. He could _feel it_. And it was said that Kenobi forged a connection with this beast, shared a link through the Force with it, a vile mockery of the Jedi's training bond that existed between Master and Padawan. Severing that connection would no doubt cause the Sith a great deal of pain, enough to throw off his focus, enough to kill him.

The beast reared up and roared once again, and Vader remembered the battle aboard the ship _Skywalker_ , the one that Kenobi had so mockingly named, the ship where Master Ki-Adi-Mundi met his gruesome end in the hands of a rancor, the beasts eyes swirling red and yellow as the Sith Lord sat within its mind and controlled its actions. On that day, he had thought he would put an end to Obi-Wan Kenobi, had felt it in the Force that it was the day the fallen Jedi would die. He hadn't been wrong, though the feeling ended up being more metaphorical than he had hoped. That was the day Satine died, the day mad Darth Lumis rose from the ashes of Mandalore. Today, the Force was only filled with screams, howling at the extinguished light, roaring in pain as the Jedi died, screaming in triumph as darkness finally came after a thousand years of absence, Padmé's screams, _Padmé's screams_...

If there was anything to be seen, Darth Vader didn't see it. All he saw was the enemy before him, the wild and vicious rancor as it snarled and barked in warning, and through the haze of his drunken stupor, he felt something was...wrong, something was off about the rancor before him. It was too small, too timid to be Kenobi's wrathful beast, its horns too small, it's skin more gray than blinding white. This was the other one. Vader frowned. It wasn't ideal, but killing this one would accomplish the same purpose, though on a smaller scale. It didn't matter. He'd find the other one, the big one, _Kenobi's mount_ , and kill that one too. He brought past battles to the forefront of his mind and remembered how Ki-Adi-Mundi killed the rancor before he had been killed as well, and with a snarl of rage, Vader jumped up into the air, his lightsaber in hand as he aimed to land upon the beast's back, only to be batted away in midair by the rancor's fearsome claws.

Vader flipped in the air, catching himself as he flipped and stopped his wild rocketing through the air, and with a ferocious swell of power that came from fury and hatred, he sent the Force exploding outwards in a rush that ripped the air, the shockwaves nearly visible, shimmering in the darkness. The rancor was blown back, staggered by the power as it struck him, and Vader hit the wall feet first, crouched upon it, and pushed off, his lightsaber extended before him as he raced toward the snarling beast.

Glowing plasma struck first, biting into the side of the beast's neck, and the creature howled with pain and rage, rearing up in an attempt to dislodge the source of the sudden, stinging wound, but Vader twisted in the air, following the movements of the rancor, and landed upon its head. With a deep breath, he pressed his weight into the blade with strength fueled by the Dark Side, gray skin hissing and smoking as the lightsaber pressed through hide thick as armor, and the beast screamed in pain, bucking wildly to shake the man off, but Vader held himself still, anchoring himself to the creature through the blade that dug deep within its neck.

Suddenly, the thrashing became less violent as the life was sapped out of the beast, and with a groan that reverberated off the walls of the hallway, the rancor dropped to the ground, claws feebly scratching at the floor, and big, black eyes closed as it shuddered, the last of life leaving its body. Vader kept the weapon lodged in its neck, panting hard as the thrill of death washed over him, and he took the feeling within himself and embraced it. The bigger one would be harder to kill, but it would fall just the same. When the euphoric rush slowed to a mere trickle, Vader switched off his lightsaber and slid off the creature, entering the elevator at the end of the hall that the beast had been set to guard, and the doors closed, the platform rising to bring him to the main expanse of the palace.

It was... _magnificent_. Deep, rich black stone walls inlaid with golden carvings reflected the glow of the lava through long windows that looked out over the roiling, molten rivers. Everything within bespoke of elegance and sophistication and a taste for the grandiose that they Jedi were prohibited from, and at once, Vader felt at home here. It was dark, sinister and foreboding, the Force sitting heavy and thick and oppressive in the air, a shroud that blinded him to what lay just beyond as it intoxicated him. The eerie glow of lava felt dangerous just as it felt beautiful, just like the Dark Side itself, and Vader wanted to have it, _needed_ to have it, and when he killed Obi-Wan, this palace would be his.

He could hear her before he felt the sharp pang of her presence break through the veil of the Force. He always felt her within him, burning and consuming his thoughts, but now, when he could hear her voice, the ache and the yearning for his wife erupted into pain and desperation, his lust for revenge forgotten as he rushed the winding halls of the palace's vast expanse. If only he could find her, if only he could come to her side, then he knew he could save her, render his vision merely a nightmare, a thing to be forgotten in the dark upon waking. She was... _angry_. Arguing with something or someone, and he ran to follow her voice, like music to his ears even in its anger, and slowly, he began to find his way, her voice growing louder and louder until he threw open the doors to a large, spacious livingroom and saw _her._ Padmé, his lovely wife, so large with her child that Anakin thought she might break upon the slightest contact. She hadn't seen him, so involved was she in her fierce diatribe, two women standing beside her and politely listening as the furious Senator wildly gesticulated with a datapad in hand. Vader recognized them both. Mand'alor Bo-Katan Kryze and Jedi Master Shaak Ti. Vader felt relief leave him as his blood began to _boil_.

"Is _this_ how democracy ends?" she snapped, thrusting the datapad at the Mandalorian. "Is this how liberty dies? With thunderous applause," she scoffed, arms crossing over her chest. "And the _Jedi_ are the villains here? How can they all not see through this, how can _nobody_ see!"

"It's not all bad," Bo-Katan said softly. "Mandalore rejoiced when my sister sized absolute power, and we thrived under her rule."

"An _Empire_ ," Vader said, deep and smooth and in a voice not his own, and the three women quickly turned to face the newcomer, the Mandalorian quickly drawing and pointing twin blasters at a man she knew was far too dangerous to engage. "A Mandalorian Empire of traitors and murders, united by a Sith Lord and his slut." He drew his lightsaber and ignited it, the blue blade's thrum cold and menacing as the blade pointed toward the combative woman. "And now, their new leader is complicit in kidnaping, aiding that _filth_ in crimes against the Republic, _just_ like the Jedi Order."

"Anakin, _stop this_!" Padmé pleaded, gasping in shock when her husband's eyes fell on her, cold and raw and sickly yellow, and she shook in revulsion when the man _smiled_ at her.

"Don't worry, Padmé," Vader said softly. "I'm going to save you. After I kill these traitors, we can go home..."

Bo-Katan didn't wait to listen to another word out of Anakin Skywalker's mouth before she started shooting. She had made a promise to Obi-Wan, had sworn to protect Padmé and the child she carried while he was out ending the war, doing the bidding of his Master so that one day, he could slay him and finally be free. They had failed Satine and her child, and Bo-Katan wasn't about to fail another woman that Obi-Wan had brought under his protection. The blue lightsaber blazed, moving at blinding speeds as Skywalker effortlessly blocked every shot fired, deflecting the plasma rounds harmlessly away until the blade suddenly changed angles, and the Mandalorian's fired shots came straight back at her.

Blue flashed before Bo-Katan's eyes as Shaak Ti dashed before her, a lightsaber in hand as she batted back the redirected shots that would have certainly struck the woman. "Stop shooting," the Jedi calmly commanded. "You'll only get yourself killed. Protect the Senator." The Togruta didn't wait to hear the Mandalorian's response, her bare feet pushing off the warm, black stone of the ground and rushing to engage Skywalker, the young man looking at her with a mix of shock and amusement as he effortlessly parried every strike she brought down upon him.

"Master Shaak Ti," Vader growled, more bemused than angry. "I hear you've been made a _slave_."

"I see you have as well," the Jedi bit back, and the amusement was gone, replaced by bitter rage. "I have felt the death of the Jedi!" she snapped, her blade moving faster, suddenly violent, and Skywalker had to step back, momentarily stunned by the ferocity of the woman. "I have felt their execution, I have _heard_ your Emperor condemn us all to death!"

" _As you deserve_!" Vader shouted, circling his blade around hers and quickly pressing forward into a ferocious offense, the blinding speed of the switch forcing the Togruta to fall back into the defensive Soresu that had characterized her style as a Jedi Master. "You sit here in wanton excess in service to a _Sith Lord_! You are a traitor to the Republic, a traitor to all that the Jedi stood for!"

"Don't you _dare_ lecture me when you stand in service to the Sith yourself!"

Her words bit deeper than he thought they could, and for a moment, there was pain deep within him, a small cry of remorse and shame and regret for all he had done, all he had been _made_ to do. No sooner than it was felt, the Dark Side took that pain and made it into hatred and anger toward the Jedi that stood before him. She didn't understand. He didn't _serve_ the Sith. Everything he did, _everything_ , was for Padmé, for the Republic, for the _Jedi_. It wasn't his fault the Jedi were twisted and corrupted by the Sith, condemning themselves to death when they stood against the Republic. It wasn't his fault that the Republic needed to be held together, no matter the cost, and if that meant slaying the traitorous Jedi, so be it. It wasn't _his fault_ that Padmé would die at the hands of Obi-Wan Kenobi, not his fault that the Jedi actively prevented him from saving her, did everything they could to keep her from him when he _needed_ her. She was a Jedi that lived to serve Obi-Wan, so how _could_ she understand?

But Sidious understood. Sidious understood the danger of his wayward apprentice, had given Vader not only the chance to kill him, but gave him to opportunities to destroy Kenobi's allies to ensure his victory. He wasn't _serving_ the Sith Master, he was _using him_. When Kenobi was dead, when Padmé was safe, Sidious would have nothing more to offer him. Except for power. Except for _glory_. Except for fulfilling his destiny as the most powerful Force user _ever_. If only he just stayed to learn, let the Sith Master help him reach his potential, helped him grow even more powerful, submitted to his will so...

With a vicious snarl, his emotions churning with hatred and contempt and confusion, he pushed back with the Force, the Togruta sliding backwards, and Vader charged at her with all his speed, form and technique forgotten as the sheer force of his stab keeping the Jedi from stopping the blade's forward momentum. The air within the Jedi ran searing hot as blue, burning plasma entered her lungs, the lightsaber buried to the hilt within her chest, and with a weak whimper, Shaak Ti fell dead at Vader's feet.

There was nowhere to go, nowhere to run, nowhere to hide where Skywalker wouldn't find them, and even if it _was_ possible, Bo-Katan didn't think the heavily pregnant woman could run if she tried. She placed herself between the Senator and the rogue Jedi, her blasters pointed threateningly at him, though she did not fire. She knew it was pointless, and acting rashly now would only get her killed. Simply putting herself in his _path_ may get her killed as well, but she had to do something. She was a child of Mandalore, and she did _not_ fear death. Her sister was waiting for her, when her day came, but Bo-Katan vowed that today was not that day. _No more death_ , Kenobi had said before he left for Raxus with a tied up Cody. _No more loses_. They had failed in that, but at least they could limit the damage.

With a sneer of contempt, Vader swept his hand across the air, and the Mandalorian standing in his way went flying across the room, fast and high in the air until she was stopped by the wall, the unyielding stone cracking with the impact of her body, and Bo-Katan fell to the ground, a hard, sickening thud echoing in the room as she struck the floor and lay still. Padmé shrieked in dismay as she began to run to the best of her ability toward the fallen woman who had stayed by her side as her protector for the past few weeks, and she jolted to a stop when a strong, cybernetic hand wrapped around her wrist and pulled her back to fall against her husband's tall, strong body.

She struggled in his grasp for only a moment, to Vader's immense satisfaction, stilling when her back was pressed flush against him and his arms grasped her around her chest. She convulsed violently for a moment, gasping almost as if in pain when his left hand drifted over her swollen stomach, and through her, he could feel the child kicking and moving and squirming, a bold assertion of the life that lay within her, and for just a moment he felt warmth stir in his chest. This was his child. _His_. All tests had said so, all genetic panels had confirmed it beyond a shadow of a doubt. Padmé herself even insisted, fervently and several times. Soon, this child would be born, within a month or less, and Anakin would be a father, his child growing up in a world where its parents could live openly without censure from the Jedi, could be raised in a world without the vile influence of Kenobi. His child. _His_! But _maybe_...

Upon his wife's neck was a dark, red mark, the kind so often left by lovers in the heat of the moment, and Vader _burned_. This was recent, and it was a sickening reminder that Kenobi had his wife held captive here for _months_ , had exerted his will over her, had rendered her submissive and willing beneath him, had given him _everything_ that should have only been reserved for _him_ , and the suspicion, the _doubt_ resurfaced. His child could have _easily_ been Obi-Wan's, planted within Padmé to be concealed and hidden and raised by his enemy, a kryat dragon in the midst of banthas to be loved and cared for only to turn feral and vicious when the time was right. A _Sithspawn_ to be raised by the enemy of its father, a plant that would grow to destroy him.

Vader wouldn't allow it. Kenobi's touch was black and poisonous, and even though this _was_ his child, the fact that it _could_ have been Kenobi's enraged him, and worse, his child, the child that he and Padmé created out of _love_ may be twisted and corrupted simply by being near the Sith, by having been touched by the culmination of his lust within his captive wife. When the child was born, he would know for sure if it was worth saving. He looked down at the woman in his arms, his hand grasping her chin and making her look up at him. She looked...stricken. _Terrified._

It made him love her even more.

"Anakin..." she asked, her voice thin and trembling. "What have you done?"

"I've made us _safe_ ," he said smoothly, drawing her closer to him and breathing in the fragrance of her hair. It wasn't like before. She smelled like _Kenobi_.

" _Safe_?" she cried, wiggling in his grasp and she finally managed to tear herself from her husband's arms. "How is this _safe_?! The end of the Republic, Anakin, the end of the _Jedi_?!" Yellow eyes drifted as Anakin followed his wife's arm to where she was pointing at the dead Togruta on the ground. "This is _murder_! Did you kill the others too? Tell em you didn't do this, tell me you didn't betray your family!"

" _You_ are my family," Vader snarled, stepping closer to the girl, but she took a step back, a look of horror on her face when he didn't deny the accusation. "You and our baby, everything I have done, I have done for _you_. To keep you _safe_." He laughed softly as he drew closer to her, and Padmé stopped trying to retreat. She couldn't outrun him. All she could do was deal with the beast that had been her husband, the yellow of his eyes glowing with murder and power, wild and crazed and out of control, so unlike the kind blue he once possessed.

"What Palpatine is doing is _madness_!" she hissed, trying against all hope that she could get him to see reason. "This is tyranny, Anakin, nobody can be safe in a regime that would _murder Jedi_! Anakin, if Palpatine is killing Jedi as traitors, then you need to run and hide, or he's going to get you too! That isn't safety, not for a family, not for _us_!"

"No, no, you don't _understand_!" Vader growled, his irritation slowly growing. "I'm not a Jedi anymore! There _aren't_ anymore Jedi left! It's _just me_. Don't you see what that means? We don't need to hide anymore, there is no more need for secrets! The war is _over_. I ended it."

"You and Palpatine," Padmé spat, but Vader just smiled. "He killed the Republic, and you helped him!"

"It needed to die." Padmé stepped back and shook her head, disbelief on her face and her chest convulsing with pain.

"This isn't safety," she muttered, steel coming to her eyes. "There's no safety for me because _you're here_."

And still, Vader smiled. "You won't think that when I've freed you, Padmé. I did all this for you. The Jedi would keep me from you, but _Palpatine_ did everything he could to bring me here to you, gave me the power I need to free you, and soon..." He chuckled softly, reaching out to take her hands. She let him. She had no choice. "Soon, Obi-Wan Kenobi will be dead, and you and I can finally be together..."

"Oh, Skywalker, you delusional fool, you have _really_ outdone yourself." Vader whipped around to look at the open door and he hissed in rage, grabbing hold of Padmé's wrist so hard with his mechanical hand that she winced, his other hand grasping her hip to keep her by him as she struggled.

" _Kenobi_ ," Vader growled dangerously, focusing on the man as he slowly entered the room, calm and poised and relaxed, a clone by his side with his blaster raised and trained on the intruder.

"Kenobi..." the Sith Lord scoffed, gold eyes running over Skywalker as he roughly moved Padmé behind him, the woman gasping and struggling to pry the mechanical grasp off her wrist to no avail. "Come now, let's put aside this pretense and address each other by our _real_ names."

He glowered, his teeth grinding together so hard he thought his jaw may crack. " _Lumis_."

He inclined his head slightly. "And what does our Master call you?"

A cocky, arrogant smirk came to Skywalker's lips, and his chest swelled with pride as he drew up to his considerable height. "Darth Vader," he drawled, Padmé's gasps going unnoticed as her heart began racing with terror.

There was only one reason this would happen, only one thing this had all meant. Kenobi made it back to Mustafar before Sidious had even finished with the swarm of press that surrounded him upon his ascension to Emperor, and yet, his personal shuttle, using the Sith Master's access codes, was in the hangar bay. The sense of unease he had been feeling since the execution of Order 66 erupted, the Dark Side taking him in its grasp and holding him close, snarling protectively as Obi-Wan and Cody quickly made their way through the palace and to the rancor that lay dead in the hallway. Kenobi had only taken a moment to mourn the beast, his hand on the cold skin of its mighty head and drinking deep of the grief he felt, taking it within him and allowing the feeling to add to the ball of cold rage within him.

He didn't think it was possible. Never had he imagined that Sidious would abandon him for a child, a slab of rough, coarse stone that had yet to be carved into a masterpiece. He had assumed that Sidious would try to take them both, his greedy hands grasping both vergences' in the Force to do with as he pleased. And he had the opportunity to, now that Skywalker had become Darth Vader. All he had to do was Keep Vader by his side on Coruscant, and when he was through, come together with his new apprentice to introduce him to Lumis, the Master's presence surely enough to stop them from killing each other, at least temporarily. He could have had them _both_.

But he had sent Skywalker here alone, and the meaning was not lost on Obi-Wan. This was a test. A _challenge_ , an obstacle to be overcome, a trial to be passed. One apprentice against another, fighting for the coveted place by Darth Sidious' side. But the test wasn't for Darth Lumis. This test was for _Vader_. There would be no other reason to make Skywalker a Sith Lord unless he intended to keep him, and there was no reason to send Vader to Mustafar if Kenobi's death weren't the objective. Like Qui-Gon Jinn before him, Darth Sidious had cast away Lumis for a younger, greater talent. For _Skywalker_. And as before, with the bitter stab of betrayal, he felt the Dark Side rush to him.

Obi-Wan expected to be more angry. He expected more pain, more hurt, more pure rage, as the Dark Side swelled around him, but he felt none of that. He could feel the grip of the Force upon him, not clutching him in talons that pierced and hurt, but gently stroking his shoulders, embracing _him_ as he embraced it. His senses sharpened, the disturbance in the Force brought about by the dying light, the inky pitch of darkness seemed to part before him, and he could see clearly what it was he must do. Everything fell into place as euphoria and relaxation washed over him, the exact meaning of all of this becoming clear and tangible.

Darth Sidious, Lord of the Sith, considered him a _rival_ , had sent a powerful new apprentice to not only kill him, but prove his worthiness in the process, and if it didn't work out, _well_ , it could easily be explained away, and despite his clarity now, Obi-Wan _knew_ that Sidious could enter his mind and manipulate him back into obedience, knew that even now, _especially_ now, he lacked the strength to destroy the Master. But in all of this, Sidious had shown weakness. He was fearful of his apprentice, feared death and the place of the Master to fall to his Apprentice, as the Sith had done for a thousand years. And in showing this fear, by Skywalker even _being_ here and calling himself Darth Vader, Sidious was recognizing Lumis as a _Master_. Relief washed through him just as power did, the Dark Side soothing and caressing him, not as a possession, but as a friend, a _lover_ , and in his mind, Obi-Wan could hear the soft, sweet whisper of three words that meant more than any he had heard in a _very_ long time.

_You are free_.

Lumis felt surrounded by the Force, so deep within the Dark Side that the violent disruption of the tempest that raged above went unnoticed, so peaceful that the screams of the Force as the Jedi died never reached his ears, so cold that the rage that burned within him froze and sharpened into a dangerous blade. And curled around him was a leviathan, coiled and still as death, and Kenobi would have thought it so if he hadn't been looking right into its large, golden eye rimmed with red, the eye of a Sith, awake and blazing with hatred and vengeance and wrath and _power_ , infinite and unlimited. Kenobi was insignificant beside the creature, and yet, his presence didn't go unnoticed. The creature _saw_ him. And yet, it lay still, lay patient, lay waiting for the moment to rise up, the slightest movement of its body enough to send the surface waters crashing in violent, destructive waves upon all that came near, and Obi-Wan wondered what would happen if that beast were to fully awaken, to not just move slightly, but move with purpose toward a single goal.

"I'm giving you one chance, Vader," Obi-Wan said calmly, looking about the room and focusing on the body of Bo-Katan as she began to move, and watching as Cody quickly moved to the side of the fallen Shaak Ti and gently brought his hand to her face. The clone was more upset that Kenobi had thought he would have been. He had always thought the Jedi was merely a possession, but it didn't appear that way now. "Turn back now. I won't have more death today."

"But _I_ would!" Vader snarled, his grasp tightening around Padmé's wrist, and the girl cried out in pain. "I won't let you take her from me!"

"Take her?" Lumis asked softly, a smirk on his face as he looked the man over. "I can't take from you what _you don't have_." Obi-Wan could feel Vader's anger spike, the Dark Side howling and raging around him, a savage beast that clawed and swiped the air with razor sharp claws, and Lumis stared at him with indifference. Vader's power was _immense,_ but the more angry he became, the more unbalanced he was. It made him exceptionally dangerous, but it also made him reckless.

" _She is mine_!" Vader snarled, and Kenobi just laughed.

"Shall we ask her?" he asked softly, eyes never leaving Vader's face, watching as hatred and fury and jealousy played across his face like a symphony.

"You're going to kill her!" Vader shouted. "I have seen it, you're going to kill her! I'm going to save her life by _ending yours_!"

"Anakin..." Padmé gasped, her eyes wide as she looked up at him. " _Let me go_!" She struggled in his grasp and reached out toward the Sith Lord that stood calm and collected on the other side of the room. " _Obi-wan_!"

With a furious snarl, Vader threw Padmé to the ground, the woman whimpering for just a moment before the Force closed around her throat, and Kenobi rushed forward, skidding to a stop when Padmé began to writhe upon the ground, not just from the struggle to breathe, but as pain shot through her. The high whine of blasters being primed sounded through the air as Cody and Bo-Katan, both warriors absolutely furious, trained their weapons on the creature before them. Kenobi outstretched his hands toward them both. "Stop, don't shoot!" he commanded, and while neither of them moved, he could feel them silently comply, their tense trigger fingers relaxing. "Let her go, Vader!"

" _You turned her against me_!" Skywalker snarled, his eyes never leaving Kenobi's, his extended hand slowly tightening its grip on the struggling woman.

"You have done that yourself!" Kenobi hissed, slowly beginning to inch forward, and he smirked softly when Skywalker's fury intensified.

"Me?" he gasped, staring at the other Sith Lord for a long moment before his hand released, Padmé's struggling ceasing as she lay still, and Skywalker's lightsaber flew to his hand and blazed to life. " _Me_?!" he shouted, rushing toward Kenobi and stopping suddenly when he felt the Dark Side hiss in warning, the snarling beast ceasing its thrashing as it began to pace, cautious and watchful. He was _stronger_ than Kenobi, and he had always been so...why was he so afraid? "You took her from me! You manipulated her mind, you made her _want_ you!"

"I did _no_ such thing," Kenobi said softly. "That would be your dear, sweet Master. What better way was there to manipulate you?" Anakin snarled in fury, his saber raised as he slowly began to circle Kenobi, his rage settling into focus as he took the measure of his opponent, the man calm and collected as he slowly mimicked his steps, circling each other slowly as each prepared to strike. "She came to me," Obi-Wan said softly, "bruised and battered and mentally destroyed and so, _so_ afraid." Kenobi stopped moving, and Vader quickly followed suit, his jaw clenching in anger, and a small smile had come to Obi-Wan's lips. He and Anakin had switched positions. Padmé was behind him, in pain and unconscious, but alive. "Of _you_. Scared enough that she came with willingly."

Anakin hissed in pain as a voice cut through his mind like a knife. An irritating, nagging thing that told him that Kenobi was _right_. She had been gone for months, her handmaidens stationed to cover for her, the girls acting like nothing was out of place when they should have been frantically searching for her. _Unless they knew_. Unless Padmé had told them she was leaving. He shook his head and growled in rage as he pushed the notion away. "Your words are poison, you are _lying_! She just doesn't understand what you are, I will _make her understand_."

"Cody," Kenobi said softly when the clone sidled up next to him, "your only objective is survival. Get Bo-Katan and Padmé to the _Umbra_ and load up the rancor. If things go wrong, I want you all safe. You know where to go."

"I'm not leaving you, sir," Cody whispered, and Kenobi shot him a withering glare.

"You will do as I say, Cody."

The clone looked at the Sith Lord by his side for a long moment, his golden eyes fixed on the nearly hyperventilating Skywalker. "...I'm coming back for you, Kenobi. Stay alive until I do." Slowly, the clone began backing away, coming to stand beside Bo-Katan, and after whispering to her for a moment, the woman nodded, kept her blasters trained on Anakin, and they both moved back to crouch defensively before Padmé.

"Maybe I was wrong," Obi-Wan chirped, his voice light and easy, and Skywalker nearly came out of his skin. "Maybe you're just here for our trade. Dear Wilhuff misses you _so_ much..."

A cruel smirk slid across Vader's face, and he tossed his blue lightsaber to his left hand, and with his right, he called the one on his belt to his hand, Quinlan Vos' green blade extending with a hiss, and Kenobi's eyes widened. Vader could feel those eyes burning holes into him, and for just a moment, he felt darkness, hatred and anger that burned so deep, it nearly took his breath away, nearly made his tight hold on the Dark Side slip away from him. And then it was gone, a void of a different kind left in its wake. If the man felt the pull of insanity that Sidious said he would, than Lumis hid it well.

"I'm going to kill you, Lumis," Vader said, his voice deep and cold. "I'm going to gut you with your best friend's lightsaber, I want you to feel it burn the heart right out of you." He grinned broadly when Lumis' face became entirely expressionless, blank, save for his eyes, which glowed with golden fire, with hatred and wrath and grief so deeply felt, Vader saw nothing else within him. "You should thank me for it. This is an experience you will share with Satine. I hear that slut died with a lightsaber through her, as did your vile spawn." He chuckled deeply as he looked at the man, twirling the two lightsabers in his hand, but Kenobi wasn't moving. "I'll find Tarkin after you're dead. Draw your blades, _Lumis_."

" _Blades_..." Kenobi hissed, snatching one of the lightsabers off of his belt and holding it in his hand. "I only need one lightsaber to end you, Vader." He thumbed the switch, the blade igniting with a hiss, and Anakin's previous balance was lost in an instant as he stared at the thrumming blade in the Sith's hand, the glow of the weapon casting his face in blue light.

_Qui-Gon's lightsaber_.

Vader's eyes narrowed on the weapon, his heart suddenly racing as rage turned quickly to power within him, the cyclone spinning out of control as the Force roared around him. "That weapon belongs to _me_!" he snarled, pointing Quinlan's green blade it it. With a deep breath, Lumis spun the saber in his hand, the weapon coming to rest behind his shoulder, blue blade angled down as he assumed Soresu's defensive posture. He had things to defend.

Kenobi extended his hand, feeling the Force flow through him as he beaconed Skywalker to come at him. "I disagree," Obi-Wan said softly, "but if you mean to claim it, _come and get it_."

Vader's tenuous control snapped, and nothing else mattered. With a howl of rage, he pushed off the ground and rushed at the Sith Lord, both of his blades clashing against Kenobi's blue, his defense perfect as he deftly sidestepped and redirected the fight, retreating backwards rapidly under the savage offense and leading Skywalker out of the room, and Obi-Wan smirked softly as he watched Bo-Katan and Cody quickly move to lift the unconscious Padmé and bring her to safety. Once in the hallways, Kenobi slowed the speed of his retreat, breathing deeply as he calmed his heart, slowed his breathing, and allowed the Force to guide his movements. They were small deflections, the slightest movements necessary to bring wild, savage blade away from striking him. Vader's blades were moving so fast, they drew long ribbons of light in the air as they slashed and cut and circled and spun, the motions unpredictable, the movements random, but Kenobi blocked them all, his small, controlled movements ensuring that his blade was always exactly where it needed to be.

Lumis was a master in this style. Perhaps _the_ master in this style, according to Sidious, to his constant disappointment. For years, the Sith Master had tried to impose a more aggressive style, a more violent style than the careful defensive that had served the Jedi so well, and while he did take to the other forms, Soresu had always been what Kenobi was best at. He had always been patient and cautious, and allowing an opponent to break themselves against his impenetrable defense suited him just fine.

But Vader was _good_. _Very_ good. He was swift and strong, highly athletic and very aggressive, his immeasurable strength in the Force kept him from fatiguing as he drew upon its infinite well, and his mistakes and missteps were few and far between. And still, Kenobi defended, retreating as he did so, his movements fluid and instinctual as the calm, cold ice of the Dark Side guided his actions, patiently waiting for the right moment to strike. Vader's wide, wild swings arched in the air, each strike beating against Obi-Wan's blade each slash brutally sending showers of sparks flying into the air, each sweeping swing striking the wall and leaving long lines of angry red scars in the black stone.

His green blade dragged through the floor as he slashed upwards, snarling in rage as the slash connected with blue, and quickly brought his own blue weapon around as he spun, slicing downwards and quickly up and across, Kenobi blocking and ducking under those as well as his lightsaber suddenly pressed forward to shoot toward Vader's wrist, a weakness in his offensive flurry detected. Vader only just managed to wrench his arm out of the way, snarling in fury as he leapt into the air to flip over the Sith Lord, but was cut short when Kenobi's weapon raised up with him, the tip of the blade searing into Skywalker's ankle and lancing him with pain. Pain turned to hatred and then to power, the sudden rush opening Vader to the Dark Side and sending the beast howling in outrage, and hand extended, Kenobi grabbed hold of the raging young Sith and threw him back against the wall.

Vader twisted in the air as he landed, unsteady on his feet from the sudden pain that shot through his leg from the smoking hole in his boot Before he could regain his balance, Lumis was upon him, his careful, easy defensive abandoned in favor of a punishing offensive as he pressed the advantage he had, and Skywalker found himself being pressed back in a mad retreat as he struggled to regain his balance under the pressure of the onslaught. Vader hissed in fury as he was pressed back. He had been forced to follow Obi-Wan when he had been the attacker, the fury of his rage against the man driving him to relentlessly pursue, but now that he was on the wrong end of a rage-fueled assault, Skywalker found himself being _herded_ , directed in exactly the direction the Sith wanted him to go.

It was too much. With a howl of rage, Vader lashed out with both his blades against his attacker, green and blue slicing both sides of the narrow hallway with deep, long cuts, but striking with no blade as Kenobi ducked underneath the uncontrolled slice and cut a long, thin line across Skywalker's side. This time, the pain went hardly noticed by the enraged Vader, and Obi-Wan slipped back into the defensive as his opponent renewed his assault.

The hallway opened up into a large, circular room, the walls made of thick glass that served as an observation deck that overlooked the black, ash banks of the lava rivers below, inky stone of the floor and ceiling catching the light of the lava and casting the entire room aglow in sinister light. The wide open space works to Vader's advantage, the confines of the hallway gone and freeing him up to fully utilize his fast, athletic style, his movements wild and swift and highly mobile. Gone is the danger of close quarters, faded away as he opened himself up to the fury of the Force, the divine delight of the Dark Side as he lunged around Kenobi, circling him like prey as he jumped and flipped and spun, his twin sabers beating against the Sith Lord in rapid, continuous spray of sparks and flashing light as the blades connected, never seeming to leave contact.

Vader is a blur of green and blue light, so fast, so _chaotic_ that it is almost painful to look at him, and the pulsing fury of the Dark Side, the violent rage of a storm untethered would be enough to tear a lesser man to bits. Perhaps a Jedi would fall before such a powerful creature, savage winds tearing down any defenses, any resistance that may be in place, but by the time it touches Darth Lumis, the cyclone is a gentle breeze, the fires hissing and dying as they lick at a wall of ice, cold, hard rage keeping him focused upon the increasingly wrathful Vader. A swift and sudden stab came dangerously close to Kenobi's neck, a swift sidestep saving him from what would have been immediate death, and the calm, expressionless mask he wore broke into a contemptuous sneer, the leviathan that lived within the deepest reaches of the Dark Side stirring, slowly moving beneath the thick sheet of ice within him.

Kenobi batted Skywalker's sabers away, strike after strike, and, raising his hand, lightning arched from the tips of his fingers, blue, arching bolts that Vader, only just avoided, swinging his own blue saber around to absorb the energy, and with a vicious snarl, the two clashed again. Force lightning continued to crackle in the air as Lumis channeled the wrath of the Dark Side through him, keeping Skywalker's off-hand blade occupied with keeping deadly electricity from touching him while green blade met the Sith's blue. Vader dodged and ducked, dashing from side to side in an attempt to get the lightning to cease, but to no avail. He looked into the blazing eyes before him, glowing with hatred and focus so sharp that it physically hurt him to look upon the Sith, but Vader found he couldn't look away.

Skywalker could feel the pull toward the man, something in his chest aching and yearning to fly from his grasp and join with the enemy, and further hatred rose within him. Kenobi, _Lumis_ , would take _everything_ from him. His ships, his Admiral, his _wife_ , and now it seemed as the Force itself was being pulled toward the man, abandoning him in favor of something that Anakin could not understand. A sneer of contempt crossed Skywalker's face as he backed into something more defensive, one blade warding against the lightning that continued to flow while the other tried desperately to drive itself into the Sith's vile, blackened heart. His fury continued to rise as the Sith struck at him, and Vader could feel the Force pulsing through him as he drew deeper of the power that called to him, but the harder he grasped at the Force, the faster the uncontrollable blaze slipped out of his grasp. He caught some of the flames, to be sure, but the inferno raged wild, and for as much power as he drew from it, just as much was slipping from his grasp, drawn to the cold fury of Obi-Wan.

The currents of the Dark Side flowed through everything, and the harder that Vader grasped it, the deeper he dove to draw from it's power, the more Lumis knew him, sensed him, grasped at the darkness running through him, and within moments, he was in Skywalker's mind, a vast expanse of fires the raged and burned everything within him as the Dark Side howled with laughter in its conquest. A slow smirk came across Lumis' face. He sensed hatred and anger, intense and wild and dangerous, but above everything within Skywalker, there was fear. Fear that was quickly and properly channeled into power, yes, but fear none the less. Fear for his captive Admiral, the man that he had served with for so long and came to see as a friend. Fear of losing this fight, for being shown to be inferior to the man he hated above all else. Fear that his child would be tainted and corrupted by Sith evil. Fear of losing Padmé, his lovely, used and abused wife. Fear that he had chosen wrong. Fear of what he had become.

And through it all, he could sense his Master's hand, deep and insidious within him, not only influencing him, but slaving the powerful youth to his will. Kenobi could already sense Vader's submission to Darth Sidious, the yearning to do as he commanded, even as he hated him, even as his mind and the Dark Side raged against the idea, drove him toward murder, convinced him that he was strong enough to kill the malignant Sith. It wouldn't last, of course. Sidious would quickly put him in his place. Kenobi knew that all too well. Even now, he could feel his Master's grasp within him, could sense the whimpering ache to kneel, to learn, to _submit_. He could never be near Sidious again. He made slaves, not apprentices, and Vader's mere presence had snapped his chains, and now, he was _free_.

Not yet powerful enough to kill the Master, but in time, he would be.

"Do you know what you are?" Lumis asked softly as he knocked Skywalker's blade out of the way, the lightning ceasing, but remnants still crackled and sizzled along Vader's blade. "You've become Sith, Skywalker. I don't think you grasp what that means."

"It means that your usefulness has _ended_!" he snarled, beating down upon Kenobi's blades with heavy, violent strikes, but the calm elegance of Obi-Wan's blade easily redirected them to crash uselessly against the floor. "When you're dead, when Padmé is safe from your evil, I'll kill Palpatine, and Padmé and I will rule the galaxy _together_!"

"Oh, you poor idiot..." Lumis groaned, arching his blade up as Anakin's wild swings left an opening, and the tip of his blade grazed the scar that already ran next to his eye. Vader didn't even seem to register pain as anger rushed through him, and he became stronger still, and Lumis drank deeply of the Dark Side that flowed from Vader's well. "Sidious is already within you, you must feel it. I can already sense your yearning for submission." A wry smile crossed his lips as his blade seemed to move on its own, blocking the mad, wild strikes of Vader as his hatred deepened, as fear surfaced with the clear cut of truth deeply felt. "As I said to you so long ago, once a slave, _always a slave_."

It broke him. The Force itself ripped open under the strain of the blazing wrath that consumed him, the feral, savage beast warping and twisting into something large and crazed, the predator's snarling calculations and vicious single-mindedness ripped apart and replaced with blinding fury so strong, so intense, so unfocused that it lashed out at _everything_. The ceiling began to shake, the glass vibrating rapidly as Darth Vader howled from the depths of the Dark Side itself, wild and savage and lacking for even the slightest control over his body. His speed increased tenfold, his strength punishing in its intensity, his limbs flailing wild and random as he lashed out at the grinning Sith Lord before him. He was dangerous, far more than he had ever been, far more than he would likely ever be again.

It was _exactly_ what Lumis wanted.

"Ashajontû kotswinot itsu nuyak," Kenobi snarled, his hand extended as he focused the Force to reach out slowly, carefully, Vader's rage blinding him to his intentions as he beat his blades against other Sith. "Wonoksh Qyâsik nun. Through victory, my chains are broken, Darth Vader, and when I beat you, I shall be _truly free_." A savage howl of rage ripped through the air as Vader swung his sabers, and Kenobi flipped above them to get out of the way, and as he gazed down at the blazing yellow of Skywalker's eyes, his hand tightened into a fist, the Force clamping shut at his command and shattering Vader's cybernetic right hand in a shower of sparks and screeching metal. Obi-Wan's hand flew open, reaching out and pulling back, the falling weapon flying to his hand, and as he landed, the brilliant green of Quinlan Vos' lightsaber ignited.

" _None of this matters_ ," Vader savagely growled, his entire body shaking with rage and hate that he could not contain. "When you're dead, _none of this will matter_. And you _will_ die, _Lumis_ ," he snarled, his blue weapon raised and pointing toward Kenobi. "I am more powerful than _any_ Jedi _ever_!"

Obi-Wan smirked as he watched the powerful man, the raging of the Dark Side pulling him off-balance with the might of its fury. "Maybe so," he said softly. "But I am no Jedi."

Vader was more dangerous than anticipated, and he fought better with one blade than he did with two, and when they clashed again, Kenobi could feel the oppressive weight of the darkness within him pressing down hard, ensnared by this powerful nexus to do his bidding, even as it tried to flee from him. But as Skywalker drank deeper and deeper, Kenobi could feel him drowning, sputtering for air as he sank, his sense of self being lost in the greedy pull of the dark tide within him. It was the power of a Master, practiced and powerful, but in the Dark Side, Darth Vader was a child, and he was reaching far beyond his abilities, and in the throes of the Dark Side, he began to make mistakes. _Big ones_.

An unguarded flank drew green plasma across him, burning the black of his tunic and the skin underneath, an over-reaching lunge found blue touching his leg before he swiftly withdrew with an angry snarl. Through the pain, through the hatred, through the rage, Vader grew stronger and stronger, wild and reckless abandon marking his every move, and while Kenobi blocked and dodged, the strikes became harder, faster, stronger until Anakin's blade circled his, sending his blades upwards, and a swift, powerful foot drove into Obi-wan's stomach. The air was knocked from his lungs, and as he flew back, he felt searing pain rush through him as the tip of Vader's saber dug into his shoulder and ripped across his body, cutting away his robes and exposing his pale, scarred skin, a deep, burning line of flesh running across his chest.

Less than a second later and Vader was upon him, Kenobi's twin blades held up before him to catch the blue saber as it crashed down upon him. His arms shook with pain, and he could feel the heat of the lava outside through the glass against his back, but his eyes never left Vader's, his intense, hateful, triumphant gaze piercing right through him, and he could hear the Dark Side roar in victory, Skywalker's power surging as he trapped the rival Sith. A high pitched whine echoed through the room, and a moment later, Vader howled in pain, lurching forward, and pressing his weight down harder against the Sith, and before Lumis could react, Skywalker's fury was redirected, his wrathful gaze ripped to the source of his agony as he slammed his knee into Kenobi's stomach and took off running.

Shaking in pain as he caught his breath, Obi-Wan looked on in horror as Darth Vader, a smoking hole in his shoulder, rushed toward the other side of the room, batting continuous fire away as Cody shot at him. The suppressing fire slowed Skywalker down considerably, and in a moment, Kenobi was on his feet, lightsabers in hand as he rushed to his friend's aid, but before he could reach the enraged young Sith, Skywalker had gestured wildly with his hand, tearing the blaster from the clone's grip and sending him flying toward the nearest wall. The thick glass cracked with the impact as Cody struck it, and he fell dazed to the floor, scrambling to get back to his feet, but his legs wouldn't obey him.

The blaster that hung suspended in the air began to warp and twist, the metal groaning and screeching as it was compressed and shaped into a wicked, dull point, and Kenobi brought his sabers down upon Vader just as the man had used the Force to hurl the metal at blinding speeds, the blue saber coming up to ferociously block Kenobi's strike, but Vader's eyes never left the clone. Kenobi followed his gaze just in time to see the dull blade pierce through the prone Cody's side, the man gasping as his body tensed and shuddered, and time froze as Obi-Wan watched his clone, his _friend_ get struck down. He didn't hear himself screaming as he sliced his blades up Vader's body as he disengaged, Skywalker twisting out of the way, but the blue saber cut through what remained of Anakin's right arm Kenobi rushed to Cody's side, blind to all else, deaf to the outraged, pained cries of Vader as he looked at the smoking piece of his arm upon the ground.

Obi-Wan dropped to the ground, the lightsabers in his hand deactivating and falling with a clatter beside the clone, and he grabbed the mangled blaster and carefully removed it from Cody's body. Blood pulsed out of the wound and puddled on the ground, and Obi-Wan quickly shrugged off the tatters of his robes, bunched them up, and pressed them to the bleeding hole, the clone gasping in pain as the Sith Lord applied pressure. Kenobi was almost too nervous to feel for him in the Force as the man clenched his jaw, his body tense and his eyes focused on the man he served. Obi-Wan couldn't look at him, and he closed his eyes, a hand on the man's chest as he felt his heart and felt it strongly beating, felt pain through the Force, but also defiance and anger, strong and unyielding. This was not the feel of a dying man.

"The ship is secure, sir," Cody gasped. "Everyone's safe..."

"You _idiot_ ," Kenobi hissed, pressing down harder on the tatters of his robes, and the clone gasped in pain and chuckled softly.

"Told you I'd come back for you..." Obi-Wan looked down at the man, the ghost of a smile on his lips, but it faded quickly as he heard Vader laughing behind him, felt the Dark Side swell and rage and the newly made Sith Lord drank deep from the pain of the clone, the blood spilt on the ground, the promise of death and victory, the _thrill_ of watching his enemy lose something he clearly cared for. Kenobi took his fallen lightsabers and pressed Quinlan's into Cody's palm.

"Hang on to this for me," he muttered. "You need to give it back to me when I return."

"Promise?" Cody gasped, clutching the weapon tightly as his other hand replaced Kenobi's on the cloth over the wound.

" _Yes_ ," the Sith Lord growled, looking over his shoulder at smug, arrogant, intoxicated Vader. " _I promise_." He could suffer no more losses. Not today, and not because of this upstart. All that mattered now was protecting Cody from the beast that now knew how much this clone meant to him. All that mattered was protecting this man, one that had stood by him for so long, his only true friend left. The thought of losing him flashed through his mind, and Kenobi could feel himself slipping, grief swallowing everything he ever was and devouring him, leaving him an empty shell for the Dark Side. Obi-Wan closed his eyes and snarled as he pushed the thought away. It wasn't an option. He wouldn't lose Cody. _He couldn't_. Deep within himself, he could feel rage move within him, cold and sharp and _living_ as he grasped hold of his need, and turned himself over to the Force.

In a moment, the ice shattered. The thick wall of his cold rage that had contained the power of the Dark Side, the barrier that kept him calm and cool and measured, broke, crumbling to nothing as the leviathan, the ancient creature deep in the depths of the Force, reared up and broke the surface of the Force, not just to be seen, but to roar its fury, so fearsome that the very air shook. Vader felt the air knocked out of his lungs as the Dark Side he commanded suddenly turned on him, clamping down around him and extinguishing the wild, untamed flames, and he was left with pain and fear, his eyes slowly widening as his heart began to race.

Before Vader could see him move, Lumis reached out with both hands, wrath drawn from the Force itself rushing through his veins as blue lightning arched through the air toward the other Sith. Vader brought up his blade to block the barrage, but he was too slow, the spread too wide, and it struck him in the chest with such power that it threw Skywalker through the air, slamming him against the thick glass with such force that it shattered, and Vader fell to the fiery banks below.

Anakin landed in the banks of black ash beside a flowing river of lava, and he quickly jumped to his feet, hissing in pain as the exposed flesh of what was left of his arm sizzled from the touch of the burning ground. His lungs filled with air so hot he thought his chest would burn from the inside, and he quickly began to run up the slope, his feet scrambling for purchase as the ash slipped and smouldered beneath his feet, his body nearly immediately covered in a sheen of sweat that dripped off his face.

He had nearly reached the top when Darth Lumis jumped from the observation deck and landed before him at the top of the hill, his red lightsaber in hand, golden eyes glowing with malice, his sharp, merciless face cast in red light and black shadows, his bare chest almost seeming to glow with power, and Vader could feel the air around him _freeze_ , the blaze of nearby lava unable to penetrate the Dark Side that engulfed them. The Force had been torn open, and for the first time since the battle began, Vader _felt_ Lumis in the Force, infinite darkness and focused power rushing through the man that was lined with pain and hate and anger and grief so profound, it nearly overwhelmed him, so cold, he thought he would freeze to the spot, so blinding, he thought he'd never see again.

It was like looking into the heart of the Force itself.

There was no balance to be had, physical or otherwise, as Vader moved his blade as quickly as he could trying to ward off the fast, vicious strikes of the Sith Lord as he was slowly pushed back down the hill toward the river of lava below, fear running like ice in his veins as he stood against not an apprentice, as Sidious had said, but a Master. He could feel his mind begin to weaken, the dark tendrils that ran through him bending toward Lumis, a soft whisper within him urging him to bow, to _submit_ , and Anakin felt the sinking feeling that Lumis had been right. He was already bound to the Sith Master, already tied to his will, and he _wanted it_.

He shook his head to clear the notion, moving his blade as quickly as he could slowly sliding down the ashy hill as Lumis pressed down against him, drawing ever closer to the lava below. He twisted to maintain balance in a lopsided body and evade the quickly moving blade, the red weapon barely visible in the red lighting of the planet as it drew long, bleeding gashes in the air. One thing became clear to Vader as he was pressed down the hill.

He had to get away from the lava.

Drawing deep of the Force, Anakin looked to the spot on the hill above the furious, focused Lumis, and taking a deep breath, he bent down and jumped, flipping above the Sith Lord's head. It was a jump he could easily make, the Force always running strong through him, but as soon as his feet left the ground, he felt a sharp pain in his chest as he realized his mistake. At his best, the jump was an easy one, but here, _now_ , the Force was not his ally.

As he flipped over Lumis, he lashed out with his blue blade, the weapon sparking as it struck bleeding red with such impact that the spin of the jump was knocked out of line, and instead of landing gracefully behind Lumis, Vader twisted, his eyes widening as pain rushed through him, landing on his side in the ash and rolling down the hill as the ground slid and shifted beneath him. He planted his feet to stop his fall, but ended up howling in pain as his flesh began to burn, and he let go of his lightsaber to dig his hand into the ground, sliding to a stop mere feet from the river of lava at the bottom. Vader whimpered in pain, his body shaking and convulsing from the pain, the searing heat, the biting cold, and he looked with stinging, watering eyes to his side to see his legs laying a few feet beside him, severed mid-thigh.

Lumis slowly walked down the hill, sure of foot in the ash where he had spent countless hours training, and he grabbed Vader by the wrist with the Force and lifted him in the air, the convulsing, defeated man, groaning in pain through grit teeth, his red and yellow eyes staring unfocused and hazy at the man that had vanquished him. Lumis looked him over, impassive for a moment before a vicious sneer came to his face.

"You lost Padmé the moment you threatened to kill her child," Lumis said softly pity lining a voice that burned low with hatred of the man he held. "Kriffing hell, you may have even succeeded in that, your assault on her tonight isn't a thing those bolstered by the Force handle well..." A pained, grieving howl tore from Vader's throat as he weakly struggled in his grasp, the stumps of his legs flailing and tearing through with pain with every movement.

" _I hate you_!" Vader screeched, his voice cracking with pain and the depths of his now impotent rage, and Lumis chuckled softly as he looked at him.

"Good. You hold on to that hatred, Vader, let it sustain you. It's how Maul survived, and I cut _him_ in half. You're far better off than he was." Kenobi laughed bitterly. "I find this ironic, don't you? The only Sith Lord to die by my hand was the one I called an ally, and a friend." Gold eyes focused on the man suspended by his arm, and he could feel his chest harden with ice, the powerful creature that wrapped around him retreating back into the depths of the Force to rest as it awaited the time when it would be called again. Hatred and cold anger gripped him, and he took a few steps closer to the struggling man.

" _Death_ ," he growled deeply, "is too good for you. You and Sidious deserve each other." Lumis held up his red saber, the weapon thrumming in the air before them, the blade reflected in the hateful, fearful eyes of Darth Vader. "This is for Quinlan Vos," he drawled, and he sliced the bloody blade across the arm the Vader hung suspended by, the screaming man dropping with a thud into the smouldering ash.

Weariness overcame Kenobi, and he jumped upon a nearby rock formation and sat, his legs dangling over the edge and his arms draped behind him as he watched the glowing embers catch fire to Vader's robes, and screaming, the man began to burn. Relief and satisfaction ran through Obi-Wan as he watched the culmination of over ten years of visions play out before him, his face in flames, Anakin Skywalker, screaming and howling in pain as fire danced over his skin, charring and burning until it was blackened and cracked and bleeding, and Lumis thought it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

Revenge was immeasurably sweet, and Kenobi could feel satisfaction and pleasure rush through the Dark Side, a silent, affectionate sign of a job well done. He had briefly considered killing him when he felt the satisfaction of his suffering fade, but then what? Sidious would come after him, and with an Empire at his call, hiding may not be an option, a thing that would be made even more difficult if Padmé were alive and managed to deliver the twins. Being in hiding with an infant, let alone two, was a difficult task, and Vader would never stop hunting for his wife. It created _several_ problems, but the solution was twofold.

If Vader lived, if Sidious was forced to live with the apprentice he had chosen, rather than the apprentice he had, then he would be occupied not just in training formidable Vader, but in keeping him leashed and building him up to be strong enough to one day clash with Lumis again. Searching for him would be _far_ more difficult then, though Kenobi had no doubt that he would. After all, with Lumis gone, Sidious would risk losing _both_ his vergences instead of just the one if he abandoned Vader to look for the rogue Sith Lord. And Darth Sidious deserved to have a mangled, shell of an apprentice for his betrayal, for his misuse of the Force, for all he had done to bend the Force to his will when all he needed to do was follow the flow of the mighty river. The Force was biting back. This was _right_.

As for Padmé...

Kenobi shook his head. He didn't want to think about it.

"My Lord!" Lumis tore his golden eyes away from the burning, screaming Vader and looked behind him to see Cody, the clone limping down the hill, the Sith Lord's belt strapped around his waist, three lightsabers clipped to it, and the tatters of the robe held tightly to his side and clearly soaked through with blood. He reached out with the Force and grabbed the man, lifting him in the air and gently setting the wincing man down on the rock beside him. He looked weary and pale and in dire need of medical attention.

"Bo-Katan commed me," Cody whispered, leaning back against the rock formation and gasping in pain as Kenobi's hand covered his own on the rags and applied greater pressure, his body suddenly tingling with the warm touch that he knew to be the Force. "Scans picked up a fleet of Star Destroyers coming out of hyperspace within the system. It won't be long before they surround the planet."

"My Master is coming..." Lumis said softly. "I can't be here when he arrives. We need to go." Cody nodded wearily and drew a blaster from the holster on his leg and pointed it at the screaming man below.

"Do you want me to kill him?"

"No," Lumis said, his voice almost indifferent, if not for the current of satisfaction running through him, intense eyes fixed on Vader and drinking in the sight so he would _never_ forget. "Let him burn." With a nod, Cody holstered the blaster, groaning as he tried to sit up, but giving up soon after. He unclipped one of the lightsabers from the belt he wore and pressed the hilt of Quinlan's weapon into Kenobi's palm. With a small, grateful smile, the Sith Lord slid off the rock, taking a deep breath as he commanded the Force to set the clone down beside him. Slinging Cody's arm around his shoulders, Obi-Wan led his friend up the hill, away from Anakin Skywalker, and he never looked back.


	117. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my GOD YOU GUYS, it's over! I KRIFFING DID IT! And it wouldn't have been possible without you guys. You've helped me create something awesome. This story was a living document that you guys helped shape and create. Really, thank you all so, so much for helping me do this. You're all the best.
> 
> As many of you have been asking, yes, there will be a sequel. The format is a little unclear as of yet, so give me a few days to organize my thoughts and get them down into something I'm proud of. In the meantime, though, I got a few drabbles and one-shots that I've been requested to do based on things that haven't happened in the fic, or were glossed over or went unmentioned. If you guys have things like that you want to see, let me know and I'll see what I can do.
> 
> I've gone on long enough. Please, enjoy, and thank you all so, so much. You're the greatest, and I mean that.

The pain that Padmé felt wasn't just emotional, wasn't just from the rage of the Force that rushed through her as he husband held her in his grasp. It was her children, the twins so afraid that they began to claw their way out of their mother, a desperate attempt to save themselves as they felt death all around them, and aboard the _Umbra_ , an hour from Alderaan, the Naboo Senator went into labor. Kenobi was blind to all else as he urged the ship to fly faster, not just for Padmé, but for Cody, who was stable, but needed something more than a bacta patch and a pain killer, and for Bo-Katan, who was certainly concussed, though she denied any injuries.

When he landed the _Umbra_ in Aldera Universal Medcenter's emergency bay, every single doctor, patient, visitor, and anyone else who happened to be milling about dove to clear out of the way as a crazed, shirtless man ran through the hospital, carrying a pregnant woman and followed by two Mandalorians and the biggest rancor anyone had ever seen. As soon as the doctors had discovered that the woman was Padmé Amidala, former Queen of Naboo and close friend to the ruler of their planet, Prince Bail Organa, they spirited the woman away to the best, most private rooms they had, secured by the Alderaan royal guard, given what appeared to be a sensitive subject, since the young Senator had no husband to speak of.

Sixteen security droids were destroyed before the hospital stopped trying to drag Obi-Wan from the room where Padmé lay as she struggled to deliver her children. The Sith Lord paced restlessly back and forth, his golden eyes never leaving the woman's face, and he growled in irritation every time he reached out through the Force to touch the woman and found her severely weakened from the ordeal on Mustafar. It was more than a person could handle, and far more than a woman so heavily pregnant could take.

" _You should have killed him_ ," Qui-Gon whispered in his mind, his voice strong and clear, and the Sith snarled in his rage.

"You know very well I could not, you know what his death would have meant for me."

" _You don't know what his life will mean for the galaxy_." Kenobi scoffed, shooting a glare at one of the droids in the room as it glanced up to look at the man that appeared to be muttering to himself, and the droid swiftly returned to its work.

"And what has the galaxy ever done for me?" Lumis growled. "Why should I care what happens to it. Let Sidious do as he wishes, let him raise his new, _broken_ toy, let him try to rule this galaxy with a hammer by his side instead of a Negotiator. It'll just make it easier for me to overthrow him when I'm ready, the galaxy will be _hungry_ for it." Qui-Gon hissed his disapproval.

" _Sith greed_."

"Jedi arrogance!" Kenobi spat back, glowering and biting his tongue when Padmé shrieked in pain. "You would dare lecture me?" he hissed, his voice lowered to keep from disturbing the woman's efforts. "You made this situation, Qui-Gon, all of this was _your doing_. If you had just left him on Tatooine, let the boy live his life of slavery, _none of this_ would have happened."

" _Killing him would have been merciful_ ," Qui-Gon said softly and so, so sadly, and Kenobi scoffed, but felt himself soften to him.

"I wasn't feeling merciful," he muttered. "Can you blame me?"

" _Obi-Wan, he-_ "

"General Grievous," Lumis said softly. "Barriss Offee. Asajj Ventress. Quinlan Vos." He looked over at the woman on the table, his golden eyes dull with pain that would never, ever fade. " _Satine and my son_..." Obi-Wan said softly, his voice just barely a whisper, and for a long while, there was silence as the Sith Lord stood and took stock of the deep, bleeding wounds upon his heart.

" _No_ ," Qui-Gon finally said. " _No, I don't blame you_."

"The time of the Jedi is over, Qui-Gon," Kenobi said softly. "That chapter has ended. But a new order can rise from the darkness, and it will be better, _stronger_ than it could have been in the light." He looked over at Padmé once again, his heart pounding faster as she screamed, such an unholy thing that he thought it could send his lone rancor running in fear. "Is it supposed to be like this?" he gasped, and the voice in his mind softly chuckled. "Honestly, why do people even _have_ children if they know how it happens!"

" _Squeamish, Sith Lord_?" Qui-Gon said softly, his voice filled with laughter. " _You have butchered people, brutally maimed them, and hours ago, you sat back and watched a man burn. Death doesn't phase you, suffering has no effect, but you shy away from life?_ " Kenobi's only response was to look away and grind his teeth together, shutting his eyes as if it would block out the sound. " _You know why people have children, Obi-Wan_ ," the spirit said soft and kind, and Kenobi felt the dull ache within him.

"It's a biological urge," he growled. "We are sentient beings, we should rise above such things."

" _Is that why you created a child with Satine_?" The Sith's hand closed tightly, and he began to tremble with emotion that he struggled to repress.

"I needed," he growled, "to keep her safe from Sidious, we-"

" _You loved her, Obi-Wan_ ," Qui-Gon said sadly. " _You still do. Don't cheapen what that means because you're hurting._ "

"And what about her?" Kenobi growled, pointing at the suffering, weakening Padmé. "Her husband wanted to kill his own children, that isn't love, that's _bitterness_."

" _A mother's love is infinite,_ " the spirit said. " _And she knows her children will have you._ "

Obi-Wan was silent for a moment as he looked at the woman on the table, the medical droids stabilizing her and beeping excitedly. "You should have been there," Kenobi muttered almost absently. "You should have seen what your student had become, you should have been there to tell him how spectacularly he failed you."

" _I didn't need to be there for that_ ," the spirit said. " _He already knows. And I wouldn't be able to manifest there anyway. The Dark Side is too strong on Mustafar_. _Though, I did try. I don't know if he heard me. And if he did, I don't suspect he would have cared._ "

"But you _can_ manifest?" The voice chuckled gently.

" _I can. Dagobah was good for me, and Master Yoda helped anchor me._ " Kenobi sighed heavily.

" _Fantastic_. I'm going to be haunted forever."

" _Is that such a bad thing_?"

"...I might not mind so much." Kenobi quickly brushed Qui-Gon away when Padmé screamed again, this time trailing off into gasps and pants from effort as the pain temporarily stopped, and Obi-Wan rushed to her side, gripping her hand tightly when the medical droid held up a tiny infant, the little thing red and crying, a fearful, trembling presence in the Force, and Obi-Wan quickly took the child from the droid, placed his thumb on the boy's forehead, and calmed him. Kenobi felt immediately the warm, desperate grasp of the Force from the child, and the Sith Lord closed his eyes and projected calm and safety through the connection that he already felt with the infant, a silent promise that he would be protected, no matter the cost.

A moment later, the Sith shielding the infant from his mother's screams, and the second child was placed in his arms. He had been worried, the babies born a full month early, but they appeared to be healthy, and when Kenobi held the two of them together, their fear subsided and they calmed, reaching out to grab the man that would be their father, secure and safe within the protection his considerable strength afforded them. Their tiny presences', still small from the terror they had endured, slowly began to unfurl, and Obi-Wan could feel the strength of the Force within them, pure and powerful and wrapping around his being, filling him with sympathy and comfort for his grief, the tiny hands supporting his weary heart. _Luke and Leia_.

He loved them already.

"Ni kar'tayl gai sa'ad," Obi-Wan said softly as he clutched the infants to his bare chest. _I know your names as my children._

"Obi-Wan." The call was weak, barely a whisper, but it cut through his consciousness like a knife, and the Sith turned his attentions toward the pale, weak woman and she smiled at him, a small, pained thing, and reached up with a shaking hand to stroke the heads of her children. "How are they?" she asked softly, her voice trembling from residual pain and effort from her task.

"Good," the Sith said quickly. "Healthy. Strong. _Beautiful_. Twin stars in the darkness of the Force. They're going to be magnificent." One of the medical droids reached out to take the newborns, and Kenobi drew back, wild and ferocious as he clutched them tightly to him, gold eyes glowing dangerously as he snarled. Luke and Leia wriggled in his grasp, but seemed otherwise unaffected by the violence of his protection.

"Sir," the droid intoned. "The infants must be checked for any complications to ensure their health."

"No droid is going to touch my children!" he growled, low and dangerous, and the droid slowly rolled backwards, mindful of how many others had been reduced to scraps for crossing the man's violent temper. "Send me Cody and Bo-Katan, they'll take the children where they need to go." The droid stared at him for a moment, its gears whirring, and a series of short beeps sounded as it rolled away to do as it was told. Soft, exhausted gasps and the quiet whir and beeps of monitoring systems were the only sounds in the room as Kenobi stood close to the woman, the small rise and fall of tiny chests in his arms as the twins stirred, small hands grasping against the raised, dark scars that covered him, the physical reminder of what he had endured.

He hissed in pain when Padmé's hand reached up and ran along the blackened burn that crossed his chest, the surrounding skin blistered and raw and painful to the touch. He looked down at the woman, and all he felt from her was pain, deep and emotional, a profound sadness for what she knew was lost to her forever. "Is that from a lightsaber?" she asked softly.

Kenobi nodded, and instantly regretted not lying to her when she turned her face away from him and quietly cried. "It isn't so bad," Obi-Wan reassured, but her breath hitched when he said it. He was lying, of course, and she knew it. When everything was secure, when what had to be done was done, he'd get it treated. It was deeper than he had previously thought, and it hurt to breathe. The pain eased slightly and a sly smirk crossed his face when he thought about how badly it would hurt for Darth Vader to breathe. The pain must have been _exquisite_.

"What happened on Mustafar?" Padmé asked, her voice trembling, hesitant and reluctant as if she didn't actually want the answer. "Is Anakin dead? Did you kill him?"

"...that would very much depend on your point of view." The answer was evasive, he knew. How easily he slipped back into words, assuming the mantle of Negotiator that he had been so long before. Before the war. Before his friends were dead. Before his love and his son had died. Before he almost lost himself to insanity and darkness. It felt... _good_ to reclaim something of his old self. The grief would never end, the pain would never cease, but perhaps he could go on after all. The woman's eyes narrowed. She wasn't so bemused by this as he was, and he cleared his throat, sobering slightly. "Anakin Skywalker is dead. Darth Vader is all that's left." It was another lie, but she didn't know it that time. Anakin wasn't dead. Not yet. But he would be very, _very_ soon.

"Is this what the Dark Side does?" she hissed, angry and grief-stricken. "It warps and twists everything good and makes it _rotten_. Look what it did to Anakin." She glared up at the Sith Lord. "Look what it's done to _you_!" She bit down on her lip, guilty as soon as she said it as she looked at the Sith Lord so carefully holding her children. "I'm sorry..."

"You aren't wrong," Kenobi said softly. "Your view is simplistic, yes, but the Dark Side changes people, as knowledge and power often does. I feel," he said, holding the twins close and looking at them, ignoring the sound of the door hissing open and the soft, uneven sound of footsteps, "that there is a place for bad men. An important place. Sometimes, death pays for life. And when the time comes, you're going to want a bad man by your side." He scoffed softly. "Good men won't do what needs to be done. If they did, the Jedi would have ended the Clone Wars _years_ ago."

"And you think that's you?"

He looked at her with a mix of pity and sadness and slowly nodded. "I will do what I must, yes."

"My Lord," Cody said, a wry smirk on his face as he limped toward the Sith, "you're going to traumatize the children if you don't put a shirt on." He held out his arms, wincing as he shifted his weight, and Bo-Katan quickly moved to help support his weight. "Give them here, sir."

"We'll keep them safe, Kenobi," Bo-Katan quickly reassured him. Obi-Wan carefully passed the children off to the Mandalorians, smiling softly when the twins' tiny hands grasped his fingers. "I've called the Death Watch," she whispered as she took Luke and frowned, biting down on her lip as she looked at him. Her sister's son should have been the first infant she ever held, not this one, but she could see how much they mattered to the Shadow King. "They're coming here to escort the Mandalorian relief effort back to my territory. There are _thousands_ of refugees here, and Bail Organa says he'll be coming with more by the end of the day. We'll be transporting most of them back to Mandalorian Space."

"You'll need to make a statement about Palpatine's Empire soon," he softly warned. "You don't want to be seen as a threat to him, though I suspect he will need to spend some time securing the space closest to Coruscant before he ventures into the Outer Rim. We have a little time to get established."

"The galaxy is a small place when you're being hunted," Cody said softly, a faint smile on his lips as Leia wriggled in his arms. "How do you intend to avoid your Master and Skywalker carrying around two babies and a high profile Senator?"

"He isn't my Master, Cody," Kenobi said absently as he reluctantly slipped his fingers out of the twins' grasp. "And I have an idea of how to go about doing that." He took a deep breath and held it, and to the Mandalorians, the Sith Lord looked... _distant_. Sad, as if he was looking at something very far away, lost in the Force and searching for guidance, as he so often was. His attention quickly snapped back at them, a forced smile on his lips. "Go, take the twins to have them cleaned and checked. We won't stay here long."

The two soldiers bowed slightly, holding the infants close, and Bo-Katan walked beside Cody as he slowly limped out of the room, his wound wrapped but not yet fully tended to. The clone would be fine, much to his relief. He'd need a good friend like that going forward. Obi-Wan looked back at Padmé, medical droids surrounding her as they scanned and prodded and administered medical treatments for something they barely understood.

"You too," he commanded the droids. "Out."

"But sir," the med-droid exclaimed, the lights of its eyes blinking in the mechanical approximation of shock. "Senator Amidala needs medical treatment immediately. She is in need of weeks of intensive recovery. Her health is poor, and she must be tended to."

" _I_ will tend to her," he growled. " _Get out_." The droid was silent for a long moment, calculating and measuring the current command with its programmed directives, and finally, the Sith Lord was ruled as the higher authority. It issued its commands to the other droids, and they soon rolled away, the lead med-droid ambling out of the room reluctantly and vocalizing its protests all the way out the door. It hissed closed, and Kenobi tapped the console beside the door to bolt it shut, his other hand raised in the air to short circuit the monitoring devices, and he looked over his shoulder at th despondent woman, his eyes burning with resolute sadness in the expressionless mask of his face.

How long had Padmé been a tool of the Sith? How long _would_ she unwittingly continue to serve? Her place in Sidious' plans were far from over. Vader would _never_ stop hunting for the wife he obsessed over, would stop at nothing to kill the Sith Lord that took her, would be relentless in the search for the child he fathered, either to raise it or kill it, if it proved to be corrupted in his eyes. Sidious would use this, of course. Out of his grasp, Padmé was a source of further darkness, a way to continue to warp and twist what was left of Anakin Skywalker, a way to further Vader's rage against his Master's escaped apprentice, and should he manage to get his hands on the woman, she was a leash, a cruel, effective way to keep Vader submissive and obedient for fear of what harm may come to her if he did not obey. The same thing applied to the child she bore, an infant brought into this world a slave to the machinations of Darth Sidious.

Obi-Wan had felt the fear in Vader on Mustafar, deep and primal and consuming, and knew that Sidious had learned his lesson from Satine. Kenobi had been allowed to keep his Mandalorian goddess, and it had made him willful and defiant. _Sidious_ would keep Padmé and her child, _children_ , if he knew, and sooner or later, he'd find out. For all that he was, Sidious was no fool, and ambition would be enough to capture a woman and her child, no matter how well they were hidden, no matter who stood to protect them. As Cody had said, the galaxy was a small place when you were being hunted, and even now, Obi-Wan could feel it closing down around him, the Force itself gripping him in warning, a painful reminder of what he must do.

Vader had said he had seen visions of Kenobi killing Padmé, but Obi-Wan had quickly dismissed them. After all, poor Anakin had been corrupted by Sidious, and the Sith Master was known to play mind games. What's more, Kenobi had always been gifted in foresight, and not once had he seen what Anakin had, though Obi-Wan had always seen final outcomes, and it was his duty to find a way to reach it or avoid it. Anakin's vision seemed to be more a nightmare than anything else, a way for Sidious to prompt the boy's hard and fast fall, but the moment Darth Vader set foot on Mustafar, everything had become clear to Kenobi. He knew what he had to do.

With one act, the twins would be hidden forever, the knowledge of their birth erased, Vader's ferocious hunt ended before it even began. He could free Padmé from the Sith. It could be done. It would be done. It _must_ be done. For the sake of Luke and Leia, the children the Force was so keen on protecting, for the children he would raise, and for their safety, there was no cost too high. Obi-Wan had failed so, so much in the course of the war, but he would not fail Luke and Leia. He couldn't. _He promised_.

"No matter the cost," Padmé had said to him, "do what's best for Luke and Leia." He knew what he had to do, had known it for hours, and now, it was time. She was weak and injured, and because of her close connection to Bail Organa, Alderaan would be one of the first places that Sidious and Vader looked for her. She would be a slave again, tortured and abused, but Kenobi could free her.

Never in his life had he felt like more of a snake.

"Death pays for life..." he muttered under his breath as he slowly approached her. Padmé's fate had been sealed the moment Anakin Skywalker laid his eyes on her so long ago on Tatooine. There was no other way. Vader would know about her children, or at least about one of them. Luke and Leia would never be safe. _Sure_ , Kenobi would be hunted, but he could survive that, could evade that, could make Sidious paranoid in looking for the wayward apprentice, could make him jump at shadows until Vader was strong enough, and that alone would occupy a vast amount of time, to say nothing of the Empire he had to run. Sidious had his hands full, and with nothing to look for, the twins would be invisible to Vader. There was no better option, no safer solution than this one, but a price had to be paid for it.

Kenobi laid his hand on Padmé's cheek and carefully looked her over, the woman far past the point of exhaustion and mired in grief for what she had lost. "I'm sorry..." Obi-Wan whispered, brushing back the damp curls of her hair. "I couldn't protect you. I did try, but it seems as though the Force has other ideas."

"This Force of yours is a cruel thing," she said, her voice sounding almost bitter, and Kenobi chuckled softly.

"It can be, yes."

"So," Padmé whispered, a tremble in her voice that she couldn't keep out, and Obi-Wan sent calm through the Force, feeling the woman relax underneath his touch. "What now?"

"Now," he whispered, "I take Luke and Leia, and I train them in the ways of the Force."

Padmé's eyes narrowed in anger. "In the Dark Side? In the thing that _destroyed_ their father?"

"If they wish it," he said softly. "I was a Jedi once, I don't _have_ to teach them the ways of the Sith. Just...the Force." He smiled softly as the idea struck him. "They should follow their own path. The Force will guide them and protect them, as it always has. As will I."

"But will they be _safe_?" she asked desperately, clinging to his hand as tightly as she could, and Kenobi leaned over and swiftly kissed her cheek.

"I promise you they will be," he said firmly. "No matter what, no matter the cost. I may be hunted, but nobody will even know Luke and Leia exist. They'll be free of Sidious, at the very least. I can give them that." A small, sad smile crossed Kenobi's lips as he leaned over her. " _You_ can give them that..." Padmé's body trembled, her hand tightening in his, her eyes speaking the question that went unsaid: _How_. Obi-Wan sighed as he kissed her forehead. "You're their mother, Padmé. Their father will hunt for them for as long as you live, but if he doesn't know they were born, if he thinks they _couldn't_ have been born..."

"You can do that?" she asked, her eyes wide, innocent and trusting, and Kenobi could feel his heart freeze, his entire being hardening into grim resolve. She wouldn't be a tool to be used, not anymore.

"I promised you I would do what's best for Luke and Leia," he said softly, stroking her cheek and leaning down close to her. " _No matter what_. And I will." He smiled as gently as he could, but it never reached his eyes. "Do you trust me?"

Padmé nodded, her eyes closing as Obi-Wan brought his lips over hers, kissing her with fierce abandon. She gasped as she felt him shift over her, the weakness of her body leaving her feeling flushed and lightheaded, and for just a moment, she could feel cool metal press against her stomach. Without a moment's hesitation, Lumis activated his lightsaber, the red blade hissing as it pierced through soft flesh and the cold metal of the table, the Sith's lips over hers stifling her gasp of shock, her thin body, weakened from childbirth and pain at the hands of her husband tensing and shaking, but only for a second.

Life left her quickly, painlessly, a far better thing than the suffering she would have endured in the hands of the Lords of the Sith, his included. He had failed so many, and perhaps he had failed Padmé too, but it didn't feel like failure, not this time. Her life was a small price to pay to end her suffering, to free her from the Sith that had used her without mercy to further their own plans, to exact their revenge, and for a moment Obi-Wan felt a pang of pity for Anakin Skywalker. He may have been manipulated, but his love for her _had_ been real. Warped and twisted by the end, but it had started off as something else entirely.

But above all else, her life had bought safety and freedom for Luke and Leia that would have been impossible otherwise. Vader would have no knowledge of his child, no wife to hunt, and in such, they would be free of Darth Sidious. Life paid for in death. It was a fair trade, and though it had hurt to do it, Lumis would have done the same again.

The soft thrum of the lightsaber ceased when Kenobi felt the last of her presence in the Force fade away, and he felt a stab of pain deep within him. Nothing felt good about this. Of all the murders he had committed, and there were _many_ , this was the first one he hadn't _wanted_ to commit, hadn't chosen to do. For the sake of the twins, for the future of what would be, the Force had led him to this point, forced him to make this sacrifice, and it felt _hollow._ He never wanted to hurt Padmé, and she didn't deserve what she got. She should have been safe in his care, but he had failed her in even that, like he had failed Satine and his own child.

All of this, the situation that led to this point, was created by Sidious, and, to degree, by himself in his blind desire for revenge against Anakin Skywalker. Her death was a mercy, and it was only right that he be forced to give it to her, a small way that the Force bit back, and it _hurt_. Her sacrifice wouldn't be wasted. Padmé's children would be raised in safety because of her unwitting sacrifice, and Obi-Wan wouldn't squander that. Luke and Leia would be loved and protected, no matter what, perhaps not raised in the way he'd have raised his own dark son, but he'd do his all to be a father to them, as he had promised Padmé Amidala. The Sith Lord looked her over carefully, planted on last kiss on her lips, and left to seek out his children.

* * *

The Emperor stood still, silent, _seething_ , his hands folded behind his back as he impassively observed the surgical room below. The procedures were painful, and he could hear the screaming through the thick glass that surrounded his observation room. _Good_. Failure should be met with pain and suffering and anguish, and Vader's would be forever. Sidious had expected to arrive on Mustafar to find Lumis dead and Vader triumphant, the burning desire to liberate his wife, his pure, raw hatred boiling within him and his powers bolstered by the deaths of a thousand Jedi driving him to achieve victory over the insane, established apprentice. Sidious had given Vader the tools he needed to succeed over Lumis, the knowledge of how to trip up his tenuous footing and plunge him into insanity, a thing that should have easily been bested by brutal, uncompromising might.

_Or_ , alternatively, he expected to find Vader dead, the boy's career as a Sith prematurely ended, the instinct to protect bested by a man that had nothing left to lose, and without the Sith, Lumis truly did have nothing. Lumis and Vader, two powers so strong that even Sidious couldn't control more than one. Together, they could have been a fearsome thing. Vader's reckless strength could be tempered, focused, directed to make for a powerful weapon against those that stood against the Sith, and Lumis' careful, subtle manipulations could be turned to unite a galaxy, a smooth, dangerous inspiration that could make people yield willingly to the Empire. Together, none could oppose them, each of them a storm of a different making that when combined, could tear the galaxy apart.

They had turned each other, each responsible for the darkness that lay in the other. It was beautiful. It was art, a _masterpiece_. Until it wasn't. Until it was _broken_.

Sidious expected to come away from Mustafar with a powerful apprentice, the stronger of two vergences, one born, one made, the victor of a confrontation that had been foreseen in the depths of the Force for _years_ , before Obi-Wan Kenobi had become Darth Lumis, before Anakin Skywalker had grown to be a man. He came away not with the victor, the Dark Side triumphant, but the one who had _failed_ , the man not killed, as was the duty and the right of the Sith, but left to live, to suffer, and Darth Lumis had walked away, condemning Sidious to an apprentice that was a shell of his former self, a fraction of what he had been, a _shadow_ of his once infinite potential.

Lumis had the _audacity_ to deny Sidious what was his by right, had stolen from him what had been the claim of Sith Masters since Darth Bane instituted the Rule of Two. The strongest of what the Dark Side had to offer belonged to the Sith, to be raised and crafted into stunning masterpieces of darkness, forged by hatred and cruelty, rising to become apprentices on the shattered remains of all those too weak to achieve victory. And Lumis had _won_ , had broken the might of Darth Vader on the sharp edges of his fury, and in defiance of the line of Sith he was destined to follow, Lumis _left_ , leaving Sidious with the raw slab of darkness from which he would carve his masterwork hopelessly shattered in the ashes of Mustafar, and in walking away, had branded himself a Sith Master.

It was an _insult_ , bold and defiant, as Lumis had always been, and in breaking his chains, he had shackled Sidious, chained him to the apprentice that he had chosen, and that was the most bitter sting of all. He had gravely underestimated his insufferably clever apprentice, hadn't seen how close to mastery he had come until it was far too late, and now, Vader would _never_ be the same. A cyborg, a man confined to a suit that served as a prison, a leash, the collar of a slave, the Dark Side flowing powerful and strong through flesh that burned with the searing agony of Mustafar, but those limbs, cold, false, dead to the Force, would never know the rush of Force lightning, a chief weapon of the Lords of the Sith. He would be a brutal weapon, a powerful apprentice, but never so strong as he _could_ have been were he whole.

Lumis needed to be destroyed. There could only be one Sith Master, and a loose end such as that could topple an Empire, much as Maul had brought the Mandalorian Empire crashing to its knees, a single point of unfinished business undoing everything that Lumis had fought for in an instant. It would be some time before Vader was recovered, strong enough to rival the rogue Sith Lord, though Sidious was reluctant to elevate him so high. Doing so with Lumis had only come back to bite him, and in Vader, he saw a servant, half a man that not even the Dark Side could make whole. He had a galaxy to secure, anyway, a monumental task to unite every system under the banner of his Empire, a task that required patience and time, lest he lose it all, though the matter of his rogue apprentice had to be solved immediately, before the boy disappeared into the vast expanse of a galaxy in chaos after war had ravished it. He would be found. He knew Lumis to be a covetous creature obsessed with ruining Anakin Skywalker, consumed with taking everything that was his, and with Vader's defeat, Skywalker's wife would still be his. Lumis was far too lustful, prideful to let that go.

After Vader had been recovered from the ashen lava banks and brought to Coruscant to begin his... _recovery_ , Sidious had stormed Mustafar, tearing Lumis' home apart in search of some secret the boy had kept, some hidden place where he had honed his skills out of the sight of his Master. He found a laboratory, dark, sinister, sprawling and completely destroyed by the wild, violent strikes of a lightsaber clutched in the hand of a furious, grieving man. This had been the place where Lumis had made the Sithspawn he was occasionally seen with, but none of that mattered. None of the knowledge was there, only the tattered remains of a place that had once been used to corrupt the living into servants of darkness.

He found his consolation in the dungeons where he had found the husk of a Jedi Master, still living, but only just, a gaping wound in the Force torn deep within him, and Sidious had quickly packed him away to be brought back to his scientists, where he would be dissected in hopes of unlocking the secrets of the immortality Lumis had discovered. He had also found Wilhuff Tarkin, the man chained and tortured and barely conscious, and Sidious also had him packed away for immediate transport back to Coruscant. The man was a vital part of his plans, an ally far too useful to be discarded, the cold, brutal calculation to Vader's powerful rage, a combination that would cull the galaxy into submission.

Sidious had _also_ found, perhaps ironically so, the mangled, gibbering Maul, his _first_ apprentice, also beaten by Obi-Wan Kenobi, also reduced to half a man, cruelly alive by the grace of the merciless Lumis, and it was too great an opportunity to pass up. Sidious had dragged the frantic, fearful Zabrak back to his ship, a second shell of an apprentice to the Sith Master. He _had_ learned what a danger it was to have more than one apprentice, both from the conniving alliance between Dooku and Lumis that helped set loyal Kenobi against his Master, and from the confrontational, explosive, _brief_ dual apprenticeship of Lumis and Vader, but this wasn't the same. Maul and Vader were both _half_ of the men they used to be, and together, they made _one_ apprentice. Both these men had ruined Lumis before, through the deaths of Satine and Quinlan Vos, and perhaps they could be united in their rage against him to bring down the _pretender_ , the false Sith Master that Lumis had become.

He looked down below to where Vader and Maul lay on operating tables, screaming as the painful procedures to attach cybernetic limbs and stabilize unstable bodies concluded, and slowly, after nearly three days of working, the medical droids began closing Vader into the suit that would be his life support, his salvation, his prison, his _hell_. The man was still and silent, pain rendering him nearly unconscious as a black mask was lowered over his face, hissing as it was sealed and bolted to the helmet on his head. With a sigh of satisfaction, the Emperor slowly walked out of the observation deck and headed to the operating room to greet the new form his apprentice had taken.

One of his royal guards handed him a datapad as he walked, citing a matter that he should be made aware of, and Sidious watched closely as the recorded news broadcast played over the holonet showed the image of Mand'alor Bo-Katan, her Death Watch by her side as she announced Mandalore's full support of the new Empire, showering them with praise not only for ending the vicious, brutal war her sister had been so opposed to, but for the swift and complete execution of the Jedi, an order that the Mandalorians had a long history of opposing in the most violent ways possible, and the woman vowed to aid in the hunt and execution for any Jedi that remained.

The legitimacy of this was suspect at best, at least so far as their support went. Even after Satine, the Mandalorians had been supportive of Lumis, though he had conditioned them to accept the rule of the Sith Empire when it came to pass. If Lumis was at the head of their considerable army, now was the time to attack them, before Imperial might had the chance to become established. It was _possible_ that Bo-Katan did this on her own, but regardless of why, this was a relief. In time, Sidious would test the Mandalorian support for his Empire, but for now, this was just one less thing to worry about. He'd have to contact her soon. Between Mandalorian fervor and Vader's hatred, Sidious could see a swift end to any surviving Jedi. At least that was legitimate. Not even Lumis wanted the Jedi Order to survive.

But more importantly was the broadcast live from Naboo, where the entire planet mourned the death of Padmé Amidala, beloved Senator and former Queen, dead from what the hospital had reported as "causes unknown," the casket holding her body marched in a somber parade through the streets of Theed to be laid to rest in the tomb reserved for the planet's monarchs. Sidious had felt the chill grip him as he listened, his already slow pace slowing even further as he shuffled toward the operating room. She was the last link to Lumis, the only way that Sidious knew how to find the man for certain. Vader would have hunted her, tracked her down to the ends of the galaxy to get her back, and Lumis would have been with her. He _had_ to be. And now, she was _dead_ , turned from the perfect control for his new apprentice into merely a point of pain and a dead end, her usefulness to the Sith finished in a whimper.

" _Causes unknown_ ," he growled, his voice contemptuous as he entered the brightly lit, sterile room where Vader and Maul had underwent days of painful surgery. The Zabrak lay in a medically induced hazed, sedated to keep him from thrashing in his frantic, maddened state, his insanity nearly as complete as Lumis' had been. It would take _years_ to undo what Lumis had done to him, to reintroduce anger and hate where now only fear and submission existed. But Vader lay still, the room echoing with the sound of his deep, regulated breathing, pendulous and ominous, a thing that would one day come to be feared as the sound of death approaching. With the tap of a button on the side of the table, the mechanics whirred as the steel bed moved to a vertical position, Vader held in place by restraining cuffs around his wrists and ankles.

"Lord Vader," Sidious said slowly. "Can you hear me?" There was silence, save for the sound of his breathing, so long that Sidious thought the man couldn't hear, that the helmet had not been applied properly, that the auditory channels weren't functioning, but a soft groan of pain, low and reverberating in the vocal modulator of the mask, indicated otherwise.

"Yes, Master," Vader said, and Sidious felt that the man sounded...defeated. _Broken_. He was, but he would be rebuilt. "Where is Padmé?" he asked, almost desperately. "Is she safe? Did you save her from Lumis?"

"No," Sidious said after a moment. "She was gone when I arrived."

" _Then Lumis has her_!" he snarled, his arms shaking against the restraints, his anger making the medical equipment in the room shake and groan as metal collapsed in on itself, the state of the art facility bucking under the weight of the Dark Side. "We must go after her. _Now_."

"I'm afraid that's impossible," Sidious snarled bitterly. "She's dead, Vader. From _causes unknown_."

" _Dead_?" he whimpered weakly, the restraints holding him clicking open, and Vader stumbled forward, his new legs nearly unable to support him. "That's impossible, she was alive, I _felt her_!" He snarled viciously, a terrible, savage thing through the filter of the mask. "This is Lumis' fault, _he did this_!" A loud, metallic thud rang through the room as cybernetic knees met the steel of the floor.

_You lost Padme the moment you threatened to kill her child_ , Lumis had said after he defeated him so soundly, and now, Vader could hear the truth in those words. His wife, _his child_ , dead, a grief that he now shared with Darth Lumis. Lumis may have killed her, but Vader felt that he himself was just as responsible for her death, if not more so. Or maybe she died as a result of his actions on Mustafar. He'd never know, and that was _so_ much worse.

Vader shivered as the cold and the pain gripped him, anger and grief and self-loathing and thoughts of revenge filling the void inside him as the last shreds of light finally died.

* * *

_These aren't just refugee war orphans_ , Lumis thought as he stood overlooking the central plaza in the city of Aldera, converted into a relief camp to aid the lost and homeless of the galaxy. _These are Jedi_.

There were hundreds of them, all of them young and frightened, the oldest no more than seven or eight. They came from dozens of different species, all had different levels of potential, some great, others not so much, and as Obi-Wan held the twins to him, the children nestled in the comforting embrace of fine black robes and Mandalorian armor, he couldn't help but feel as though he was looking at the future.

"You've outdone yourself," Kenobi whispered, and behind him, sitting atop the head of the Sith's mighty rancor, the great beast laying on its belly on the ground as it calmly slept, Jedi Grandmaster Yoda chuckled.

"Possible, this would not have been, without your warning, Obi-Wan."

" _How_."

"Dead, Padmé Amidala is," the Jedi softly countered. "How." Kenobi snarled in anger, but the Jedi remained unmoved, smiling sadly when he saw pain, not anger, within the Sith Lord.

"Don't ask me what I had to do, _Jedi_. The Force protects her children, but that protection isn't enough. My own failures have taught me that. I did what I had to do to keep them _safe_."

Yoda softly gruffed, his feet kneading at the skin of the rancor's head, and the beast began groaning in contentment. "Help, I had, in saving the younglings," he finally said. "From Bail Organa. Master Luminara Unduli. Ahsoka Tano." The Jedi smiled when the Sith Lord reeled on him, golden eyes wide with surprise.

"Ahsoka and Luminara are _alive_?" he gasped, and Yoda looked away.

"Contact, I had, with Luminara. Into hiding, she has gone, as per my instructions. A call, I sent, to all Jedi that live. Hide in these dark times, they must. Challenged, they will be, in all things, but persevere, they must. Trust in the Force, the Jedi will."

Kenobi slowly nodded. "Wise advice. It's been a long time since the Jedi have followed the will of the Force. It's about time they do."

"Survive, the Jedi will," Yoda sighed as he looked upon the rescued younglings, the Mandalorian Darth Watch moving through them, taking their hands, and leading them toward the ports where ships were waiting to carry them away from Palpatine's reach.

"...what about Ahsoka?" Kenobi asked, and Yoda frowned, the wrinkles on his brow deepening.

"Saved many, Ahsoka did. Heard from her, I have not. Dead, she may be, but strong in her are the lessons of Quinlan Vos." Obi-Wan tensed, clutching the twins tighter to him, and Yoda looked down to the Sith's belt where four lightsabers were clipped, one of which belonged to the Sith's fallen friend. "Alive, I believe she is."

"...I think so too." The plaza began to open up as the younglings were escorted away by the Mandalorian warriors, and Bo-Katan rushed up to meet Mandalore's Shadow King, grinning broadly and followed closely by her partner in the relief efforts, Bail Organa, the man's face sad and somber, but he held himself tall and strong. He was grieving, yes, but he was firm and resolute in his path. Trailing far behind them was Cody, the clone shouting curses at the pair as he limped along, his arm draped over the shoulders of Boba Fett, clad in the armor of the Death Watch and doing his best to keep his father's pace slow. He _was_ injured, after all.

"We'll be ready to leave within the hour, Kenobi," Bo-Katan said. "The Death Watch is returning to Hutt Space, like we discussed." A wry smile passed over her face as she looked at the sleeping twins. "It would appear that my warriors are following the example of their King. They're going to raise the Jedi younglings to be warriors of Mandalore."

"That won't be enough to keep them safe," Obi-Wan said softly, but the woman shrugged.

"Maybe not, but at least they'll have a chance. Mandalorians have a proud tradition of adoption, and being part of a galactic relief effort, _of course_ our Empire is flooded with war orphans. It won't look so strange, and I'll be staying on Mandalore to rule and publically support Palpatine's Empire. It should keep them off of us, for at least a little while."

"An army of Force sensitive Mandalorians..." Kenobi muttered, watching as the younglings were escorted away. "It's a long term plan, of course, but in fifteen or twenty years, that's going to be unstoppable. Sidious won't know what hit him." He glowered. "Provided they don't get hunted down and killed..."

"I think _actual_ Jedi have more to worry about," Bo-Katan scoffed. "Temple life doesn't exactly prepare one for a life on the run. My warriors will train them how to be smart and survive. They'll be alright."

"I believe you," Kenobi said, smiling widely as Cody and Boba Fett trudged up to meet them.

"You guys," Cody gasped, "are _assholes_!"

"Time's short, idiot," Bo-Katan scoffed, crossing her arms and looking entirely superior. "We've got places to go and an Empire to outrun."

"We need to begin our attacks immediately," Obi-Wan said softly. "I'm going to start right away in my efforts to undermine and destabilize Palpatine's rule. We want to keep defiance as an option, or his grip is going to be too strong to break away from."

"And you're going to do that with _twins_ to raise?" Organa gasped, mouth hanging open at the idea. "Those are _Padmé_ 's children, and you promised to keep them safe!"

"And I _will_ ," Kenobi stressed. "They will stay hidden, and they will stay safe, as I promised."

"You can't keep them safe while you attack the Empire!"

"Sir," Cody said, laying his hand on the Sith's shoulder. "He's right. You can't take them with you into battle."

"Important, these children are," Yoda said. "Safe, they must be. Separate, they must be kept, in case discover them, Darth Sidious does."

Kenobi hissed his disapproval, but said nothing to object. They _were_ right. At the very least, while he was actively engaging the Empire, the twins needed to be kept in a place of safety, and to maintain the secret of Padmé's twin birth, they needed to be kept apart in case they were found, so that if one was killed, the other may live.

He felt _sick_ thinking about it, but it had to be done. For the twins, _everything_ for them.

" _I_ am their father," he growled.

"Yes," Bail said softly, "And I _think_ Palpatine will know where to look when you have two children running around with the last name Kenobi." He extended his hand, kind but firm. "My wife and I have talked about adopting a daughter. We can care for Leia when you can't."

"And Skywalker has a brother on Tatooine, doesn't he?" Boba said enthusiastically. "He was a nice guy."

"And after what happened to his mother, I don't think Vader will _ever_ set foot down there," Cody said. "His fall started there, right? I don't think he'd be eager to go back. _And_ I bet we can get Jabba to keep an eye on him. We've also got Hondo and his pirates, if we need them. They can smuggle a child away without much difficulty."

Obi-Wan was silent for a long time, his arms tightening around the twins he held. "These are my children," he said softly. "I will raise them, and they will stay with me." He sighed wearily. "But...there is wisdom in what you say. I welcome the help in the times I am fighting, but I'll be back to pick them up as soon as I'm in the clear."

"At the very least, sir," Cody drawled, "they'll be well traveled."

"Yes, I suppose." Kenobi took a deep breath. "It...sounds like a plan. I'll lay low for a few days before I start making messes. Gives me some time to recover from my own injuries and I need to be with the twins for a while before they start visiting their ragtag family while daddy works..."

"I'll be keeping Mandalore Space safe for as long as I can," Bo-Katan said softly. "And my Death Watch will keep an eye on those Jedi for you. If we find any others, we'll make certain you know."

"I'll be fighting Palpatine in the Senate," Bail said gravely. "He has to be stopped, and if you're fighting him out in the galaxy, I will do what I can in the seat of his power."

"To Dagobah, I go," Yoda said. "Meditate on the Force, I must. Where it leads, where I will go. Many things, has Qui-Gon to teach me."

"He can teach you anywhere, Yoda," Kenobi said quietly, and Yoda softly chuckled.

"Worried, are you, Obi-Wan? In exile, I am not. Part of your fight, I will be, but not yet. Find in the Force, the path I must follow."

"...can I at least leave the twins with their weird, green grandpa from time to time?" A slow grin spread across Yoda's face as he slowly nodded. "We need to go," Obi-Wan said softly. "There's a lot to be done. This fight will take years and years to see through, but I promise you this. Sidious _will_ fall. He's made some very grave mistakes, and the Force won't stand for it. _None of us_ will stand for it." Kenobi took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "The time of the Jedi is past. They have been lost for so long, that it finally destroyed them. But maybe the Sith have been lost too."

"A new way, we will find," Yoda said softly.

"Yes..." Obi-Wan said, holding the twins close and feeling the warmth of their presence, the strength of the power they commanded. So much had transpired, so much had been lost to lead to _this_ , the twins, Luke and Leia, chosen by the Force, created as a means to exact revenge upon the heinous misdeeds of Darth Sidious. The Sith Master had twisted the Force, bent it to his will, destroyed all that was meant to be. _Satine. His unborn son. Asajj Ventress. Count Dooku. Barriss Offee. General Grievous. Quinlan Vos_. _Padmé Amidala._ Jedi Knights and Masters. All of them, dead, and all led back to Sidious' manipulations of the Force. Even Anakin Skywalker, the Jedi Knight that stood above the rest, had fallen because of Darth Sidious, had been targeted the moment he had come into Sidious' sights as a child.

And now, the Force had given them Luke and Leia, children of a Jedi, to be raised by a Sith Lord to bring an end to Sidious. The Force had a plan. And Obi-Wan Kenobi followed the will of the Force. _Always_.

"Yes," Obi-Wan repeated, a smile on his face as he looked upon the children he would raise as his own, "we will find a new way."

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Mandalore and her Sith](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8851612) by [lucife56](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucife56/pseuds/lucife56)




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